This is from Hannah who was incarcerated in Texas. 

Addiction is a disease – and yes, it is a disease – that is met with judgment and intolerance instead of compassion and understanding. It is the only disease I can think of that is actually criminalized.

I have lost so many loved ones – good people – to this affliction, and I can’t help but blame this stigma for some of that. I have heard people say that even if they overdose, they don’t want 911 called. They are scared to ask their families for help due to fear of judgment and anger. They refuse to go to the hospital for life-threatening infections due to the backlash and patronization they will surely receive from doctors and nurses.

I didn’t used to believe this was a disease. I thought that was a cop-out. I now know that it is. Addicts don’t want to be drug addicts. They don’t want to spend all of their money, face homelessness, lose their families and friends, their freedom, and possibly even their life. I can remember times I would sit in my bathroom or closet, spending hours futilely looking for a vein, as tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to be doing that, no addict does, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t even getting high anymore, only maintaining, but I still couldn’t stop. Drug addiction is such a sad, lonely existence, and nobody wants that life.

I was fortunate to have a family that cared enough, and had the resources to send me to one treatment center after another to try to help me. I ultimately went to a total of 8 rehabs and numerous other detox centers. I tried medication-based treatment, and Twelve Step groups, but nothing worked.

While I was there, I met other women (and men) who turned to drugs because life became too much to bear. They did it to escape, at first, but eventually found they were unable to stop. These were good people, with loving friends and family, who simply didn’t know how to cope with a variety of issues, including, but not limited to: childhood abuse, sexual molestation, death of a child, adoption, and co-occurring mental illnesses. Those are just a few of the things that I, personally, was trying to numb out.

I spent 16 months in county jail and state prison for nothing more than drug possession. When people think of prison, they tend to think of rapists and murderers, but I can tell you from experience that those are the minority. Most people are in for drug-related offenses. They are incarcerated in hot, non-air conditioned prisons throughout the Texas summers. Temperatures inside are easily higher than 100 degrees, and it becomes difficult to breathe. The guards treat inmates like dirt, simply because they can. Their human rights cease to exist. At this point, they are no longer considered human, but instead “state property.”

I have since turned my life around. I am no longer addicted to drugs. I have a decent job, a nice place to live, bills to pay, and responsibilities I am able to stick to. I am one of the lucky ones.

However, because of my past, I will always be judged. My “criminal” history will never leave me. I will forever have trouble finding jobs, housing, credit, etc.

Just this past weekend, I applied for a volunteer opportunity to help children who are struggling with some of the same issues I have faced – children who will almost certainly attempt to self-medicate at some point in their lives. I thought I had something to offer, and I was excited to be a part of this. I was approved and ready to go, until they ran a background check at the last minute. At that point, I was turned away. People told me this would happen, and it’s something I live in fear of every day.

People wonder why recidivism rates are so staggeringly high. Why people who are released from prison go right back to the same behaviors that got them in trouble. This is why. There is no hope for us who have been convicted of a crime, even a non-violent one. We are branded forever with a scarlett letter, of sorts. There is no incentive not to commit more crime. Once you have one felony, in this country, you really might as well have ten. It becomes too difficult to get a legit job and to make clean money, so it becomes almost necessary to get back into the dope game or illegal activity just to support our families.

People often say, “don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” Well, I did the time. I’ve paid my debts. So why can’t people just drop it already? Why can’t we leave it in the past?

To put it into perspective, my first offer from the prosecutor in my case, was 5 years in state prison. I would have been better off, legally speaking, had I stolen a car, assaulted someone, committed certain sex offenses, or put people’s lives at risk by driving drunk. I have always adhered to a certain moral code, even in my addiction. There were things I just wouldn’t do. I refused to share drug paraphernalia, steal, or sell my body. But according to the law, I would have been better off doing those things than committing the crime I was charged with, even though the only victim in my case, was me.

All Photos by Christopher “Puma” Smith, Feb. 17, 2018.
Robinson Theatre, Richmond Virginia

Last month I had the opportunity to witness a powerful experience in group organizing. I saw, first-hand, how film is a tool that can engage the mind, move the heart, and lead to action. But as much as that, and believe me, that was already unexpected and exciting, I saw how trusting one’s community and soliciting voices of all members is an unbeatable way to engage people in their welfare. As community strategist Lillie A. Estes says, conversations need to happen to “get people to step into their community power….The community must resume its rightful place in the establishment and or re-establishment of how our communities grow.”

On February 17th, 2018, I attended the Community Justice Film Series (CJFS) in Richmond, Virginia, part of an initiative co-founded by Estes to engage Richmond in action-oriented conversation. I have written about Lillie Estes here and here after we first met at Harvard’s Charles Hamilton Houston Institute of Race & Justice (CHHIR&J) in October, 20i7.  This is also where I first learned the concept of “community justice.” Per CHHIR&J, “It is a call for the active participation of communities that have, for too long, been largely dismissed in policy discussions that directly affect their health and well-being.”

Before this event, community leaders had met, blogged, written articles, participated in meetings, and taken actions to get engagement of more community voices. On October 25, Michelle Saka  El persuasively blogged to answer the question  “Is CJFS entertainment or education?“ Her response was educational if “forward-thinking action” is added to the mix, in order to “stop our oppression by government at all levels, institutions and even the oppression of ourselves.” She listed CJFS planning committee suggestions for action after and between each film event.

• “Have ongoing house gatherings to keep your circle together around the justice themes you are working.
• Post a blog or create a log/diary of the things you learned everywhere, your thoughts or ideas on social, political, and economic justice.
• Create an alert call/ email list of at least five to ten people involved with the theme after each film or activity associated with the theme(s).
• Host an activity associated with the theme event you attended and share it with CJFS planning committee.
• Commit to working on an ad hoc committee of one or more of the film theme(s).
• Make a list of little known facts about the community justice theme(s) that you learned to share with all.
• Tell your story, record your struggle and journey to justice, freedom, equality, and inclusion. Video and audio record your efforts the meetings, presentations, protests, everything.
• Research and consider running for office and boards share the information.
• Create and or sponsor/co-sponsor at least one activity for children of all ages on social justice awareness.
• Sponsor senior citizen activities especially those living in low income housing that put them in touch with their representatives, i.e, post card mailings to legislators and local officials.
• No one can do everything for themselves, but we all can do something that helps everyone in our community.”

Lillie A. Estes, introducing the final film of the CJFS on Feb. 17. 

The series of six films in the CJFS took place over an eighteen month period, which reflects how deliberately the organizers went about this process. Estes says the process began in the fall of 2014, after Michael Brown’s death, and after crisis after crisis in her community–from housing accessibility and affordability to a lack of viable transportation and a disproportionate impact of violence on those who live in public housing. At one point, during a particularly cold spell, tenants of the Richmond Redevelopment Housing Authority (RRHA) slept in layers of coats and blankets as thick sheets of ice formed on interior walls. Families heated their homes with their ovens, and residents given space heaters by RRHA were charged for electrical use overages.

With issues as crucial as these, concerned members of the community have been coming together through this film series to demand that their voices be heard to solve city problems. The choice of films reflected hot-button issues that the planning committee felt needed addressing—education, public safety, whole body-well being, transportantion, housing, wealth creation, and job building.

The final documentary shown on February 17 was Against All Odds: the Fight for a Black Middle Class, It explores the often “heroic efforts of black families to pursue the American dream in the face of unrelenting barriers.” Featuring journalist Bob Herbert, the film “connects the dots of American history to reveal how the traditional route up the economic ladder by attaining a job that pays a living wage and then buying a house — is a financial ascent that has been systematically denied to black families.” The documentary tackles injustices such as reduced educational opportunities, rampant employment discrimination, mortgage redlining and virulent housing segregation, all converging to limit the prosperity of black families from generation to generation.

This documentary was used to  explore the theme of job creation and wealth building, and it provoked wonderful conversation and important insights that came out in small group discussions after the film. Facilitators raised questions such as “Do you believe the American Dream was ever achievable for Black people?” And community members gave answers such as “The so-called American dream has never really worked for Black Americans because Blacks are not respected, but Blacks need to create their own American dream;” or “Certain folks had a head start…There is an intentional war on the poor.”

At the end of the afternoon, after lunch and talk had subsided, facilitators reported back on the conversations from their groups. Some discussions included “considering entrepreneurship and not just jobs;” “teaching people how to fish and not just giving them fish;” “the need to build more security into the labor system;” “the recognition that home ownership is important to building wealth:” “reparations;” “healing from trauma;” and “having block parties to build community.” The participants were clearly energized. It was clear that this was far from the end of the process.

Stay tuned here as I explore more uses of film across the country to promote justice and the next steps for the CJFS. My final comment: The Community Justice Film Series in Richmond should be a model across the country.