My release day appears to be June 11. Two years of supervised release may be a real problem. The government claims a right to determine where I live, who I associate with and what my political activities are.
I'm writing here in the sewing room. Women are making beautiful quilts and crossstitch items.
About a week ago the U.S. Marshalls picked me up at the Elmwood Jail and brought me over to the federal prison in Dublin: F.C.I. Dublin. What a change from the county jail! I can go outside; the guards wear white shirts and ties instead of cop uniforms; the food includes vegetables; and the guards don't insult us all the time.
But the main difference is that this is a federal facility and my dispute is with the federal government. I'm one of a handful of political prisoners here. 'There are at least 150 political prisoners in the U.S. and those here are serving long sentences: 40 years, 55 years, 10 years or life. My sentence is barely an eyeblink.
There is no unemployment at this prison. Jobs are assigned without regard to age, race, handicap or gifts and talents. I am lucky to have a job that I enjoy in education, tutoring women in reading, math and GED preparation. Pay is about 12 cents an hour, or around $5.00 a week.
It seems like most people think that the prisons are to keep the violent prisoners off the streets, but from what I see most of the women are here for nonviolent offences. But the increasing demonization of prisoners continues. The mandatory minimum sentences, along with the conspiracy laws, make for extremely long sentences. Probably the average sentence here is 20 years. Women are convicted on the conspiracy laws not because of what they did, but because of who they knew. It's a system that is based on snitching, on telling on others in exchange for a plea bargain. Women are given long terms on the say-so of another person. And its hard to prove that you weren't at a meeting on a particular date 5 years ago.
When I look around at who is here, I see that about half of the women are foreign nationals, and most will be deported when their sentence is up. About 45% are Hispanic, 30% Black, 10% Asian, maybe 10% White. Maybe 25% don't speak any English. The prison is pretty much bilingual; forms are in Spanish and I'm at a distinct disadvantage not knowing Spanish.
This prison is overcrowded. It was originally built to hold 336 prisoners; there are about 950 here now. The women say it has become more repressive recently and just in the past few months women have lost their inmate clubs. These clubs were a way to raise money and bring speakers, bands and workshops to the prison. They also included the hobby craft clubs where women taught each other crossstitch, quilting and other skills like that.
Looking at this place from the eyes of someone fresh out of a county jail, I see the place looking like a college campus. But behind those looks is the ever present threat of being thrown in the SHU (Special Housing Unit) if you do anything out of line or say anything that can be taken the wrong way.
I ended up in the SHU last Friday. The guards here wear shirts and jackets with logos on them that say "Dept. of Justice," and the things that pop into my head when I see those logos and think about the marginalized women who are here, treated so unjustly by the courts, are not the sort of thoughts that those in power around want to hear. Reminds me of Bob Dylan's song where he sings, "If my thought dreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head in a guillotine." After I missed an appointment I ended up talking to a lieutenant who was impressing on me the importance of doing my job, which included showing up for "call-outs" or appointments. He told me that if he didn't do his job, I'd get stabbed in the back. I told him that I didn't think so, that I'd cast my lot with the women here, that most were held unjustly. For some reason that upset him and he immediately had me cuffed and taken into the Special Housing Unit.
Fortunately for me, one of the counselors (the guards have different job titles) came in to see me. I told her that I had been in the county jail for 7 months and hadn't been able to go to services. She had compassion for me and got me out on Saturday - otherwise I wouldn't have been considered for release until Tuesday. I have to do 8 hours of extra work for her.
In this system work is used as a punishment. What a different idea!
I'm writing this letter [separate from the card with comments introducing the article - ed.] in the law library in the education building. Women are reading law books, discussing law, writing and typing, all working hard and in earnest.
I'm in the process of making friends, trying to stay healthy and out of trouble. After that 30 days in solitary in Santa Rita from when we painted shadows at Livermore Lab, I find I don't respond well to being locked down alone. The extreme feelings of longing to be with other people and extreme frustration of being locked up alone that I experienced at the end of the 30 days come back to me right away. I have a lot of respect for Vanunu, who has been in solitary in an Israeli prison for over 9 years.
Thanks for all your prayers, letters, cards, news clippings and books. The book situation is good here. There is a library.
Easter...the resurrection. Just as Jesus walked out of the tomb, away from death, we are invited to walk away from the death dealing weapons. We are invited to respond to God's nonviolent love.
Copyright Mendocino Environmental Center 1997
Permission granted to excerpt or use this article if source is cited