 Image by Jani Heinonen They say life’s a bitch and then you die, that's why I can cry when a real homie die. They say there is a Heaven for a gangsta. Well is there? Find yourself and tell me... LOST Lost in another world, I pray that God finds me and I know he will But will it be too late? When he comes looking and I can't be found, will he continue to look or will I be forever "LOST" in time? LOST I'd be just another memory like all our fallen soldiers, another page turned making our today a yesterday and must I still go on? LOST? Tired of living like this Sometimes I just want to give up But I keep my faith up, stay prayed up, and hold on, cause I know life goes on. But I really pray that he continue to look, cause I'll continue to seek, wish I could find him before me. But as another day comes to an end I'm still seeking cause of my faith within ...LOST... If you or someone you know is a currently or formerly incarcerated person with creative content to offer, please submit your materials to admin@vote-nola.org and we'll be in touch! We'll share the content on social media and always give credit to the artist(s) involved. Any type of submission--whether stories, poems, illustrations, music, videos or something else--are welcome! Jeremy Smith is currently incarcerated at Angola State Penitentiary.
0 Comments
 On Sept. 28, directly impacted people, scholars, and activists gathered for a summit on Life Without the Possibility of Parole. “One of the biggest lies we’ve been told is that time heals all wounds,” Justin Singleton told an eagerly-listening crowd on the morning of Sept. 28. “But time adds to the wounds. Love heals all wounds.” Singleton is currently doing a life without the possibility of parole (LWOP) sentence at Angola State Penitentiary. Usually, people doing LWOP are silenced and hidden from the public eye. For one rare day, however, we heard from not just Singleton, but several others doing life. As a partner of the Life With Other Possibilities Summit, we gathered many concerned citizens, scholars, and activists to learn more about LWOP and what we can do to end it. We heard how the laws created and enforced by our elected officials can help or harm people currently sentenced to death by prison. In addition to hearing from six lifers still on the inside, we were also encouraged by two others who were released because freedom fighters on both the inside and outside demanded that laws and policies be changed. Their stories remind us how much more work we have to do to end LWOP. They also help us understand what we can do about it right now, including vote for elected officials that support real reform. As Fox Rich, our beloved friend and fellow formerly incarcerated leader says, “When we are united, the laws will change.” Laws change every day, because they are made by humans who can change every day, too. LWOP laws are no exception. They only began in the 1970s when the Supreme Court ruled against the death penalty. Those who wanted to maintain a system of retribution but could no longer send people to the chair as often decided that LWOP was an equally punitive sentence, Dr. Marcus Konkar explained to us on the 28th. While this history is a bleak one, it reminds us that LWOP was created not long ago, and therefore can be abolished just as quickly. Every day we witness public and political opinions of justice reform changing, which means more and more people are realizing that we can’t heal trauma with trauma. We see that giving people the opportunity to hear directly from the people most impacted by the criminal (in)justice system really works, which was no less true at the Summit. Singleton spoke on a panel with his allies Keith Morse and Samuel Kelly, who are also doing LWOP at Angola. Together they run a reentry program for men who are doing shorter sentences at the same facility. Their program has graduated more than 1,500 men in Angola, and their model more than 10,000 worldwide. While Angola’s general recidivism rate is 50%, only 9% of the men who have gone through their program have landed back behind bars. “[We do this] out of a willingness to say we are better than our worst mistakes,” says Morse. “To say we have something to offer.” Kelly agrees, sharing that he helps others succeed “to see hope.” The tragic irony, of course, is that the system has stripped these leaders of their chance at freedom, yet they’re directly showing others how to get and stay free. At their end of their panel, the men implored the audience to get involved as much as possible. To start, we can vote on their behalf, carefully choosing candidates who offer incarcerated people opportunities for freedom. “We are continuing to strive even though people tell us that it’s purposeless and meaningless,” Singleton says. Samuel Kelly speaks on his experience of doing life without the possibility of parole in Angola. From L to R: Samuel Kelly, Keith Morse, and Justin Singleton. Michelle Benjamin was sentenced to LWOP at 16 years old. She did 24 years until being released this past spring because the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that sentencing juveniles to LWOP was unconstitutional. She explained how she was constantly treated like her life and opportunities didn’t matter as much as people who weren’t sentenced to life. After all, the system told her she was going to die in prison. She was denied access to many of the programs that people with shorter sentences were easily able to sign up for, including the high school courses she needed to finish her degree. Instead of giving up, she filed a lawsuit for her right to finish school. She got her GED, got out, and is now working on her college degree. In part because of her persistence, the prison policies have changed. Now people doing LWOP have equal access to resources. If Benjamin can organize for lasting change from the inside, we can do the same on the outside.  Michelle Benjamin speaks on her experience of doing 24 years of a juvenile life sentence. From L to R: Michelle Benjamin, Laura Davis and Candice Malone. One of the ways we can organize is by supporting the families of those doing LWOP. As Selina Anderson, another lifer at the Summit, says “[many] mothers are struggling because they're away from their kids.” Shanda Crain chimed in, sharing that when her grandkids come to visit for children’s day activities, they can’t understand why she’s never coming home. Shanda Crain tells us about the family separation she feels and sees in prison while doing her life sentence without the possibility of parole. Kelly Garrett, is the Policy Council of our partner organization, Voters Organized to Educate. She’s also the partner of Singleton. “It's a challenge to try to explain to people that [those doing life] are a human being just like everyone else,” she told the audience. “They need even more love.” Her concerns about others’ judgement were echoed by Dominique Jones, Founder and Co-Director of Daughters Beyond Incarceration. Jones’ father is also at Angola doing life. As a kid she was one of the best track runners in the state, but without her dad around, the success didn’t matter to her. At 16 years old, high-schooler Kasey relates to this experience. Unsure what the right thing to do was, the adults in her life kept the secret that her dad was doing LWOP. The system has put countless families in this same lose-lose situation. Keisha White, now an adult, also grew up with her father doing LWOP. She explained how no one from the prison called her when her when her father started having medical troubles. They turned out to be fatal, and he died in prison.  A panel of women and girls with currently and formerly incarcerated loved ones speak about their experiences. Pictured (L to R): Kelly Garrett, Dominique Jones, Kasey, and Keisha White. Candice Malone, another lifer, posed the most poignant question of all.“[Is doing] a life sentence really justice?” she asks. “Does it truly make the community better? … I don’t think so.”
We don’t, either, and that’s why we need to use our power: as leaders, as neighbors, as family members, and as voters. The materials that build the majority of prisons are funded by voters, and so are the elected officials who ordered them to be built in the first place. This Saturday, we have the opportunity to vote for those who will order the closing of prisons and the creation of better approaches to harm. Please vote on behalf of all of the voices heard above, and all others sentenced to life without parole. Not sure where to vote? Find out here. Still not sure who to vote for? Check out Know Your Vote to see who's running and what issues they care about. The primary election is this Saturday, Oct. 12, and the runoff is Nov. 16.  Image by David Foldvari To give a loving service,
that's what I've read; these days to some-- that's a dread. To take, is the way most get by; but in my heart I know that's a lie. Jesus said, to give as a friend, to a friend, for a friend; what then? Do I expect something back? Maybe something that I lack. Thinking like that seems right to some; not for me no, I'm not the one. What if that person has no way to honor the help that I gave? Do I demand payment and make them a slave? Then I'd be like the loan shark; my true intentions would be in the dark. Rethinking the way I should give; is to know how Jesus showed me how to live. Going through life one day at a time; keeping that one thing on mind. Gift-giving is not inherently in our souls; however, it's more precious than gold. Some people would say when asked, what? the nerve; never knowing that blessings come when we learn how to serve. If you or someone you know is a currently or formerly incarcerated person with creative content to offer, please submit your materials to admin@vote-nola.org and we'll be in touch! We'll share the content on social media and always give credit to the artist(s) involved. Any type of submission--whether stories, poems, illustrations, music, videos or something else--are welcome! Michael A. Videau is currently incarcerated at Angola State Penitentiary.  When we passed Act 636, we restored voting rights to at least 40,000 Louisianans on probation on parole. We fought for the opportunity to prove that our votes and voices as formerly incarcerated people (FIP) are a force to be reckoned with. We hope you prove us right in Louisiana’s upcoming super-election, because more than 250 positions are up for reelection on Oct. 12. These positions have serious power over whether our criminal (in)justice system continues to work the way it was built--a revolving door to put mostly Black people behind bars--or is reformed to focus on real transformation. These are positions like the sheriff of your parish, your District Representative, your Senator, and the Governor of Louisiana. Each position has control over different parts of the system that have significantly impacted our lives, often for the worse. If you don’t quite believe in the power of your vote yet, we got you. Here are some of the many positions running and how they can either harm or help heal your future. Senators and Representatives (AKA The Legislature) No matter where in Louisiana you live--whether in Spearsville or New Orleans--you have Representatives and Senators up for reelection in your area. They make up Louisiana’s House of Representatives and Senate, respectively. Together, the 105 Representatives and 39 Senators of Louisiana have the power to push forward, vote against, edit, or pass every state bill about mass incarceration that we are concerned with. Because they vote on every bill they receive, electing even a few more legislators who are on our side can be enough to sway the vote in favor of liberation, making statewide change. Just last year, we saw this working multiple times. For example, we fought to eliminate the death penalty. With a few extra supporters in the State Senate, the bill moved further along than ever before. This shows progress on a notoriously divisive topic. We also had success advocating for the Truth in Sentencing bill. Based on the fact that 95% of people who have faced a conviction in Louisiana take a plea deal, and the majority of them don’t know the full consequences taking this deal, this bill mandated transparency. It obliged the prosecution to explain the true punishment involved with pleading guilty, including how it affects a convicted person’s access to housing, employment, and higher education. Thanks to the hard work of our members and allies--some of who testified in front of their elected officials--this bill passed! On Oct. 12, we can make more wins like this possible by electing Senators and Representatives who have a history or platform that supports prison reform. Governor The position of Louisiana Governor is also up for election on Oct. 12, which works closely with the state legislature. The governor can pass or veto any bill that the House and Senate has already approved. The governor also controls many other statewide institutions. For one, they appoint the Secretary of Corrections, who runs Louisiana’s Department of Corrections (DOC). They determine how facilities are managed, who’s hired, and total operations. Therefore, electing a governor who aligns with VOTE’s values allows us to trust they will appoint a Secretary that can reform the DOC from the inside out. Another important appointment the governor makes is each person on the Board of Pardons and Parole. Once you’re incarcerated, appealing to the board is one of the only ways you can get out. We need a board that is less punitive or more merciful, so we need to elect a governor who feels the same way. ** The positions we’ve mentioned so far mostly have to do with statewide systemic change that affects people who have already been convicted. But, there are also positions up for election that determine whether or not someone is incarcerated in the first place. People on the school board, in policing systems, and in the court system all have seats open this election, and all influence whether someone is convicted and incarcerated. ** School Board On Oct. 12, seven seats of Louisiana’s top school board are up for election. To figure out why this matters, let’s follow the life of Devon, a Black, 17-year-old high school student living and learning in Jefferson Parish. Because of chronic stressors related to racism, a lack of financial resources, and more, Devon has depression and anxiety. Because he’s still learning to cope with these mental health struggles, he’s missed a lot of school. After two warnings for bad attendance, he’s called into the Principal's office and is put on a 3-day suspension, thus beginning the school-to-prison pipeline. While the school board doesn’t directly decide the fate of Devon, they do set the culture of the schools in their district, which indirectly affects him in a big way. The board makes decisions like whether or not there are police officers at a school, if there are time-out rooms that function like solitary confinement cells. They can encourage the administrators of the school to be more punishing, or use their resources to promote a positive learning environment, such as effective counseling programs, and restorative justice practices. Sheriffs As Devon is walking home from his grandma’s house, a deputy working for the Sheriff of Jefferson Parish pulls up to check his ID. He let him know he’s out past curfew, which he didn’t know. Because of a long-history of racial bias and subsequent profiling in policing as well as other institutions, the deputy thinks Devon looks suspicious. He searches him for drugs. Already having a stressful week, Devon tries to explain to the deputy that he doesn’t have anything and just wants to go home. The deputy arrests Devon for what he perceives as resisting arrest. Devon gets brought to the local jail, where he is put behind bars for simply trying to get home. The sheriff who this deputy works for was elected. Like the school board, he can decide how punitive the people who work for him are--the very people who are often the first point of contact for those experiencing the (in)justice system. Sheriffs can decide how much they will follow or resist the history of stop-and-frisk. They can decide if their staff goes through implicit bias training. Since they also determine the number of beds in the local jail, Louisiana sheriffs have a clear stake in the number of arrests made. Some have taken pride in filling their jail to the brim, and our hope is that every sheriff elected on Oct. 12 feels the opposite. We want every sheriff to fight for change, as we do with the Orleans Parish Prison Reform Coalition. In the Coalition, we demand that the city makes good on its promise not to expand local jails and to remove people from the temporary detention center. If we elect sheriffs who are also committed to not filling all jail beds or building more facilities, we can decrease the amount of people who go on to be incarcerated. Finally, sheriffs also have the power to end pretrial detention, which is when innocent people are sitting in jail awaiting their trial because they are too poor to afford bail. This election, our Baton Rouge chapter is keeping our eye specifically on the sheriff races in East Baton Rouge, because right now their office jails people at a rate of 381 for every 100,000 residents. Almost 90% of those in jail are locked up because they are too poor to afford bail, yet the sheriff has the power to change that. Of course, while you aren’t able to vote on a sheriff outside of your parish, the sheriffs all over the state still matter to all of us. After all, where you get arrested is where you’re going to be put in jail, regardless of where you live or vote, so if you have any friends or family in nearby parishes, please encourage them to go vote, too. Judges After spending several nights in the Jefferson Parish Jail, a deputy handcuffs Devon and drives him to the courthouse where a local judge will decide his court date and bail amount. Whether Devon goes to trial or takes a plea deal, the judge will decide his sentence. The judges in Jefferson Parish are notoriously harsh, so Devon doesn’t have high hopes for having a bail amount to be able to pay, which would allow him to go home. He also doesn’t want to plead guilty since he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong, and as a 17-year-old, he doesn’t want to be in prison with adults. No matter the judge Devon faces, that person has been elected. It’s no secret that corruption has been a big part of the judge races in Louisiana, and Oct. 12 is a chance to change that reality. We should be electing trustworthy judges who work towards a more just Louisiana, not a more punitive one. Because of all of the above and more, we want to make sure people all over the state are voting with mass incarceration reform on their minds on Oct. 12. There are people running for office who will make the lives of people like Devon much better, or much worse. This is not because of the personal choices of the individuals involved, but because of the way the system works. There are people currently in office who don’t want to see people in our communities thrive. With our votes in unison, we can replace those people with elected officials who understand our value and will do their jobs based on our interests. Unlike the Electoral College in a presidential election, in local and statewide elections, your vote is one vote. It weighs the same as everyone else’s, no matter who you are. In other words, our vote is our voice. For more information on who’s running in your area, visit our partners, Know Your Vote. Missed the registration deadline for Oct. 12? You can still register in time for the Nov. 16 run-off elections! Register by Oct. 15 in person or by mail, or online by Oct. 25 with a Louisiana ID. Remember, you CAN vote if:
 Image by Tracie Ching Now Ïz the t’yme to open our eyez And realÏze our own demÏse WE MUST RÏSE! The lÏmÏt Ïz the sky; As we strÏve to survÏve We the people must unÏte Put pryde to the sÏde. Now Ïz the tyme Tú konneck wÏth our kreator B’kum a Ïnnovator, Not no ÏnstÏgator, And Ïnkrease lÏke an elevator. Now Ïz the tyme Tú shyne, Water our vÏnes Strength’n bonds, Keep relatÏons DÏvÏne And embrance the sÏgns as the chose’n people. Now Ïz the t’yme Tú make a choÏce And have a voÏce, ExercÏse yo lÏbetÏes ExhÏbÏt yo dÏgnÏtÏes, And stand fÏrm LÏke the Statue of LÏberty. Cislah Smoot is currently incarcerated at Angola State Penitentiary. If you or someone you know is a currently or formerly incarcerated person with creative content to offer, please submit your materials to admin@vote-nola.org and we'll be in touch! Any type of submission--whether stories, poems, illustrations, music, videos or something else--are welcome! We'll share the content with our network and always give credit to the artist(s) involved. Over the weekend, VOTE and the Power Coalition officially launched our fall Get out the Vote (GOTV) efforts. Now, canvassers are hitting the streets, knocking on doors to encourage people to vote. At the same time, VOTE staff members continue to coordinate with probation and parole offices across the state, making sure everyone is up to speed with the Act 636, the new law that restored voting rights to at least 40,000 Louisianans on March 1.
The key to our efforts is helping each player help themselves, whether they are a volunteer, a probation and parole office employee, or a formerly incarcerated person trying to get registered. Our Shreveport Chapter Organizer Felicia Smith went to support Ms. Jessie, a volunteer from Lighthouse Ministry, who was doing voter registration at the local probation and parole office. Initially, the probation and parole staff were saying "we aren't clerical" and would not print out any Voter Eligibility Forms, which is the key piece of paperwork that people registering under Act 636 need. Eventually, Felicia convinced the staff to help. "Make a list, and we will get the forms to people," they told her. About an hour later, Mr. Nolan, the probation and parole office supervisor, showed up and got the forms. Of the 25 people listed, 13 were eligible, and they all got their paperwork completed that one day. Felicia is staying in close contact with Ms. Jessie, who has been back several times to register even more people. Over in uptown New Orleans, on Thursday night our superstar member Earl Hagans will lead a meeting at 6pm at Rosenwald Recreation Center, 1120 S. Broad St. Earl's goal is to listen to the local needs of his community, and engage them in his own GOTV efforts. Though our work has not been without administrative problems--raising crucial concerns about voter suppression--we will keep moving forward. In addition to our canvassing initiative, we have yard signs posted in neutral grounds, billboards in prominent intersections throughout the greater New Orleans area, and a how-to registration video that is being shared far and wide. Our amazing teams in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Lafayette and Shreveport are going full force just in time for the upcoming voter registration deadlines. In order to vote in Louisiana's Oct. 12 super-election, where many positions that directly affect the fate of mass incarceration are open, people have to register in person by the end of TOMORROW! While the online deadline to register isn't until Sept. 21, we encourage anyone with a conviction to register in person since there is additional paperwork to submit. Call us at 504-571-9599 for help, or email us at vote@vote-nola.org.  Who am I to demand justice?
I have no rights. I'm just an inmate. Human rights, women’s rights, children’s rights, animal rights, What am I to expect? Oh! what the heck, I'm just an inmate. I trusted justice and received conviction without evidence. I became the property of the state, Oh well! I'm just an inmate. No control over any part of my life, yet I exist. Damn, I'm pissed! The power of the D.A.'s office and the court system to have me jailed, With erroneous testimonies, the verdict was hailed, Make him an inmate. I pray to God and have great faith, and yes,I'm still the property of the state. I'm just an inmate. The faith that I have, in the power of prayer and of my God, I'm confident and trust in my Lord. Truth and justice will prevail; I know this down in my soul's core. My faith and fighting to show my innocence, I know soon, I will be an inmate no more. If you or someone you know is a currently or formerly incarcerated person with creative content to offer, please submit your materials to admin@vote-nola.org and we'll be in touch! We'll share the content on social media and always give credit to the artist(s) involved. Any type of submission--whether stories, poems, illustrations, music, videos or something else--are welcome! Michael Videau is currently incarcerated at Angola State Penetentiary. Approximately six million Americans are denied the right to vote because they have a conviction. This is called felony disenfranchisement and it is one of the many tactics of systemic racism. For many years, formerly incarcerated people--like the majority of us at VOTE-- have been stripped of our right to vote, which is essentially the right to speak up and see true justice. Without our voting rights, we’ve had to watch as people who don’t understand or care about us make decisions for our future. But, as of March 1, many of us no longer have to watch from the sidelines. Thanks to the dedication and successes of formerly incarcerated leaders, on that day about 40,000 Louisianans with convictions became eligible to vote. Under this new law--Act 636--anyone who: is off probation and parole, is on probation, or has been on parole for at least 5 years can vote. Now that many of us have our voting rights back, we need to hit the polls. We need to vote on behalf of those who still can’t, who are still behind bars. We need to be modern-day mythbusters, knocking down every argument we hear about why voting doesn’t matter. Because it really, truly does. By voting, we can elect leaders who will help us create a world without mass incarceration. Louisiana has a super-election in less than 60 days. In addition to local elections for sheriffs and judges, we have elections for the Governor, Attorney General, Lieutenant Governor, Secretary of State, Treasurer, all 105 State Representatives, all 39 State Senators, and more. Every one of these positions has a say in the fate of mass incarceration in our state. In other words, the time to use your vote to help us fight the criminal (in)justice system is Oct. 12. The deadline to register in person is Sept. 11--less than a month away--and the online deadline is close behind on Sept. 21. Please vote because the system will only work for us if we change it to be that way. 1. “My vote is just one vote, so it’s not significant enough to matter.” This is an excuse that almost all of us have heard. It's understandable that people might feel this way, but it couldn't be further from the truth. There have been many times in history that a single vote was the deciding factor in a major election. In 2016, a House Representative from Wyoming won by just one vote, 583 to 582. In 2008, Republican Rep. Mike Kelly won re-election by a vote of 5,018 to 5,017 over Democratic challenger Karl Kassel. Four years later, Representative Stacey Newman of Missouri won 1,823 to 1,822--just one vote more than her opponent. Now how can you tell us that just one vote can't change the course of the future? 2. “There are no good options, none of them stand for what I truly believe in.” No candidate is perfect, and that fact shouldn’t discourage us from voting for the one who most closely aligns with our beliefs. It’s better to have someone in office who agrees with two or three of the core issues we are working to reform, rather than someone who will actively support mass incarceration. Choosing someone who checks off some of our boxes is still a step in the right direction. 3. “No candidate truly cares about us.” It can be hard for us to trust candidates who say they care about us when we’ve been taken advantage of or completely disregarded by the government for centuries. But, there are candidates who do really care about us. For example, Louisiana House Representative Patricia Smith is not shy in showing how she cares about her people in Louisiana, especially those of us with convictions. Smith helped us pass House Bill 265, which restored voting rights to 40,000 formerly incarcerated Louisianans on March 1. When she’s not in her office working on legislation, she is out in her community. On a Sunday, she came out to a Black Voters Matter voter registration event we were hosting, and a few weeks later attended several women’s parole hearings to show her support for bringing them home. She is an elected official who is not in it for the money or the power, and she’s not the only one. Royce Duplessis is another Louisiana House Representative who has come to our meetings, asking his community for feedback about what he can do better--an action that is sometimes ignored by our politicians. These politicians were elected by people like us, and just imagine how we could elect more leaders like them if we all voted. 4. “The government system is corrupt. It’s broken beyond repair at this point.” The criminal (in)justice system we’re living under isn't broken, it works perfectly. It does exactly what it was made to do. But the way it’s made is not for our people. What makes our system work this way one might ask? People. People are the ones who create and maintain the system. A way to change the system is to change the people who influence the system, and that’s where voting comes in. We need to vote for the people who make sure the system is in our best interest, and not vote for the people who perpetuate corruption. 5. “The Electoral College system is rigged. Hilary got more votes than Trump, but he won.” The Electoral College only applies to presidential elections, which are every 4 years. There are so many other important elections between then, however, that affect our daily lives and do not use the Electoral College. Local and state elections are based on a simple popular vote win and influence issues closer to home, such as housing, employment, reproductive rights, and criminal (in)justice reform. Our votes have even more power locally than they do at the federal level because, on average, far less people vote locally than they do nationally. Because the Governor, Lieutenant Governor, Attorney General, Secretary of State, Treasurer, all 105 House Representatives, and all 39 State Senators have their seats open on Oct. 12, Louisiana has a chance to “reset” the state on that day. In other words, we can elect officials who will create and change laws and policies that directly affect us. 6. “I have so much on my plate right now, so voting is not a priority.” When we are just trying to make ends meet day by day--which is even harder for people with convictions--it’s easy to push voting to the side. Voting can seem very disconnected from the challenges we face everyday, but it can actually release those stresses. The minimum wage we receive, the healthcare we have or don’t have, and whether or not we’re able to access housing with the stamp of incarceration on our backs are all a function of the government. By voting, we are making our voices heard and let the government know how it should be taking care of us. 7. “The polls are not easily accessible for me.” Voting takes less than 15 minutes on average, whereas the issues and people we’re voting on will affect us for the rest of our lives. While many states require employers to give employees paid time off to go vote, unfortunately Louisiana isn’t one of them. But if we all go vote, we can change this and add our state to that list! In the meantime, you can pack a lunch for work and head to the polls during your break or early before your day starts. Most polls are open as early as 7am and as late as 8pm. Find your polling location hours here. If transportation to the polls is an issue, there are options such as getting a free ride through Vote Riders or a Carpool Network if you’re in New Orleans. If it’s still not possible for you to get to the polls on Election Day, you can vote early during the Early Voting period (Sept. 28 through Oct. 5 for the upcoming Oct. 12 election). Or you can submit an absentee ballot as long as you plan ahead so that it will get to the Registrar’s Office in time for the election. 8. “I don’t think I’m eligible to vote.” As of March 1, if you are off probation or parole; have been on parole for at least five years; or on probation, you CAN vote! If you’ve been to jail but never received a conviction, you can vote, too. Finally, if you have a misdemeanor charge, you never lost your voting rights! Disenfranchisement is only based on felony convictions, and we fight to end this practice every day. Don’t assume you or your loved ones can’t vote! If you’re unsure, please call us at 504-571-9599 or email us at vote@vote-nola.org. There are a lot of myths out there about who can and can’t vote and what you need to do to get registered, but we’re here to help you figure it all out. 9. “I don’t want to be called for jury duty.” Juries are the cornerstone of democracy in America. Juries decide if we are innocent or guilty. As such, our lives can be in the palm of their hands. Juries were created to be a representative sample of the person on trial’s peers, yet in Louisiana, on average only two of the 12 jurors are people of color. Worse, until January 1 of this year, Louisiana was one of only two states that allowed people to be convicted on a non-unanimous jury. In other words, this Jim Crow-era law made it possible for 10 white jurors to convict someone who they thought was guilty, even if the remaining two jurors thought he was innocent. This led to the wrongful conviction of many Black Louisianans, including our own leader, Norris Henderson. Today, thanks to Norris’ leadership, non-unanimous juries are no longer legal in Louisiana. But that doesn’t change the racial makeup of juries, so it’s as important as ever for those who care about ending mass incarceration to show up for jury duty. This gives us the power to make fair and just decisions on behalf of those in our communities whose lives and circumstances may be a lot like ours. 10. “I don’t vote because it’s not part of my norm. I have never been surrounded by people who vote.” Now is the time to break the cycle of avoiding civic engagement. Many of us have lived our lives without understanding the importance of voting, whether it be because our parents never voted or our social circle never talked about politics. But our ancestors didn’t fight for our rights--including the right to cast a ballot--just for us to dismiss them and ignore the chance to create change. We owe it to them to never miss an election day and to show the next generation the importance of exercising the right to vote. If everyone participated in voting, our whole government could be rid of injustices. We need to wake up the sleeping giant by having our voices be heard at the election polls. If we haven’t convinced you by now to vote, we won’t stop trying. With less than 80 days until the Oct. 12 election and so many seats up for election, there is a lot more work to be done. If you or someone you know is interested in helping us register people to vote, call us at 504-571-9599 or email us at vote@vote-nola.org and we’ll get you set up. Geaux vote!
 The force moved me.
A powerful one beyond my conscious control--it pushed me through the torrential rainstorm darkening the landscape of my consciousness. Walk upstairs, the force compelled. Turn right. Three shadowy, indistinguishable figures were to my right, standing just outside of my mom’s apartment door. Go inside. Another dark figure inside--keep moving. Somehow, someway, as I moved past the figure inside, a slurry jumble of sounds coalesced into a recognizable expression: “What’s up, Rico?” But I was powerless to respond to it. Keep moving. Then all of a sudden, as if teleported, I found myself standing at the foot of my mother’s bed, trembling uncontrollably as I looked down at her napping. About two feet to the left of her head, a night stand held a small, rectangular alarm clock. In red, computerized digits, the clock read 2:53 p.m. Just an hour earlier, I had been playing Nintendo at my friend Kevin’s house. “I’m tired of beating you,” I said to Kevin, playfully. “It’s three-to-one,” he responded. “You said the same thing last time and I came back on you.” We were playing a Nintendo basketball game called Double Dribble. Kevin, who was fourteen, thought he was always supposed to beat me in any competition since he was a year older than I was. “Let’s go by Lil Robert’s house and shoot a game of twenty-one. I might let you win a game,” I said. “Let’s go,” he said. Lil Robert was a friend of ours who lived in a section of our neighborhood called ‘’Cross The Canal.’ To get to his house, we’d literally have to cross over a canal that divided The Loop--our neighborhood--into two almost symmetrical sections. The canal divided The Loop in other ways as well. ‘Cross the Canal was the more crime ridden section of The Loop. Once happy homes where large family gatherings had taken place, where childish squeals had erupted from little kids playing hide-and-seek, where love, laughter, and life had vibrated like a pleasant hum, soothing and welcoming--most of those homes ‘Cross The Canal had been reduced to barely habitable dwellings. Some were crackhouses in front of which stood any number of drugs dealers plying their trade. Sometimes when we’d pass them, the younger ones close to our age--Kevin and mine--would stare at us with provocative intensity, daring either of us to respond to their unspoken challenge. Beware, their eyes said to us in warning. Beware! Nevertheless, whenever we wanted to play basketball, we’d go to Lil Robert’s. His house was a refuge of sorts ‘Cross The Canal. His dad had bought him an adjustable basketball goal for his thirteenth birthday and set it up in their driveway to keep Lil Robert close to home and out of trouble. All of the neighborhood kids loved to play ball over there since they could adjust the goal to its lowest notch and mimic the slam dunks of their favorite basketball players. The sun hugged me when I stepped outside of Kevin’s house. I greeted it with me eyes closed, smiling as it delicately embraced me with its warmth, a sensation which reminded me of the loving, good-bye hugs my mother gave to me just before she’d send me off to stay with my dad for the holidays. A lot of people will be there today, I thought, as Kevin and I skipped down the street. In our neighborhood, everybody liked to play basketball on beautiful summer days. But to my surprise, when we made it to Lil Robert’s house, Shane was the only person there. Shane was another friend of ours who lived ‘Cross The Canal. We often played basketball with him whenever we met up at Lil Robert’s house. You could count on him being there any time the sun was out. “Where’s everyone at?” Kevin asked him. “I don’t know,” Shane replied. “I was just sitting here waiting for somebody to show up so I could beat ‘em in a game of twenty-one,” he added tauntingly. “Take out,” I said. Shane took off a black backpack that he always carried with him and laid it in the grass right beside the driveway. Then he took the ball out. Just as he usually did, Shane completely dominated the game. He was sixteen years old, five feet ten inches tall, athletic, and very strong. He was also very aggressive. Neither Kevin (standing at about five feet even) nor I (standing slightly under that) could compete against his physical or athletic advantages. We tried though. One play during the second game, as Shane drove hard to the basket, Kevin, laughing, jumped on his back to prevent him from dunking. After shaking Kevin off his back, Shane immediately spun around. His presence had completely transformed; it radiated with violent energy. It was there like atomic energy, present but not visible, unstable and highly charged--explosive. “What did you do that for?” he yelled angrily at Kevin . Then he grabbed the basketball with both hands and slammed it into Kevin’s face. Kevin staggered backwards, stunned. Shane then turned and glowered at me. “You want some, nigga?” he asked and started in my direction. At his approach, my reality seemed to speed into a streaking almost imperceptible blur: adrenaline rushed; time zoomed; sound muted. The minutes earlier screech… screech… screech… of athletic shoes gripping on concrete pavement; the loud CLANG of a vibrating rim; Kevin’s gleeful, childish exclaims of “Michael Jordan”--all of those 'summertime in The Loop' sounds--transformed into tragic silence seconds after I looked away from Shane’s stare and ran towards his black backpack where I knew he always kept a loaded handgun. * * * I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but at some point I raced home from ’cross the canal, shock subjugating my conscious thought, turning instead to instinctual drive. So it was with a vague sense of puzzlement that I read the time--2:53 p.m.--on the alarm clock beside my mother’s bed. After standing at the foot of her bed for a few seconds, my mind cleared up suddenly, like someone had blown a layer of settled dust from the surface of an old record. “Ma! Ma, wake up! Ma, wake up!” The words nervously rushed out of my mouth. I was just about to reach down and shake her, but she turned on her side and groggily looked up at me. I was her only child, her innocent, precious and only son. “I think I just killed Shane!” she heard me say in a panic. Before that day, I didn’t know that taking someone’s life was something to be proud of. I had been a normal thirteen-year-old kid who loved to hang out with his friends and play videogames. Nor did I know that I was supposed to idolize the neighborhood drug dealers, gangsters, and killers; no one had ever taught me that what they did was a route to success. I certainly used to listen to gangsta rap music, but only because I liked the sound--before that day, I had not interpreted its messages as tutorials on how to live. But years later, after I had served two years and eight months in a juvenile prison, I had been reprogrammed to travel life in accordance to the rules of a new value system. I had crossed the canal. Jirrico McKee is currently incarcerated at Raymond LaBorde Correctional Center (RLCC). f you or someone you know is a currently or formerly incarcerated person with creative content to offer, please submit your materials to admin@vote-nola.org and we'll be in touch! We'll share the content on social media and always give credit to the artist(s) involved. Any type of submission--whether stories, poems, illustrations, music, videos or something else--are welcome! Albert Woodfox spent almost 45 years in a 6-by-9-foot cell for 23 hours a day. Despite this, he says that his mind was free, in large part because he still had access to books. In other words, reading is freedom, and can help us see a pathway out of our current reality. Whether you’re new to the issue of mass incarceration, or directly impacted by it, our summer reading list has a book or two for you! From the racist history of modern-day slavery to the possibilities of a world without prisons, this list will take you from past, to present, to future. Can you finish this list before the summer is over? Challenge on!  This book should really be in the #1 spot, but we are starting this list with books that teach us how mass incarceration became a system of racial control and its impacts today. Alexander challenges the notion that the election of Barack Obama created a new era of colorblindness, arguing that "we have not ended racial caste in America; we have merely redesigned it." This is a must read for those who haven’t read this book before or are new to the issue. And, if you have already read this book, it’s a book worth reading again!  We love this book not only because it is written by a formerly incarcerated person, but also because Curtis used to co-lead our Shreveport chapter of VOTE (and is now using his talents as a certified paralegal at the Southern Poverty Law Center). Our leader Norris Henderson often says that “ those closest to the issue are closest to the solution,” and Curtis is a great example of this kind of leadership. Through a collection of essays and articles, Curtis illustrates the current state of the Louisiana criminal (in)justice system and its failures. Through his first (and likely not last) publication, he answers such questions as: how did Louisiana become the state with the highest incarceration rate? Why are more than 80 percent of Louisiana prisoners of African descent? We’ll give you a hint: it has to do with white supremacy and enslavement by design.  “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done,” says Bryan Stevenson, Director of the Equal Justice Initiative and a feature on the Netflix movie, 13th. Stevenson shows how the current issues of the criminal (in)justice system by sharing his experience of working as a civil rights lawyer fighting for the rights of death row prisoners. This inspiring and powerful book about defending those who are incarcerated includes stories of those who are still on the inside. Stevenson epitomizes how one person can change many lives. 7. Solitary  Woodfox, the aforementioned survivor of solitary confinement, is a Native New Orleanian who spent almost five decades in lockdown for a crime he did not commit. One would think that this experience would push him to be defeated, but those harsh years of enduring violence and deprivation have instead inspired him to demand an end to this form of torture. As part of the Louisiana Stop Solitary Coalition, last month we hosted a press conference where Woodfox and other survivors of solitary spoke about their experiences. Their words align with a groundbreaking new report that includes testimonies from more than 700 people currently on lockdown--the largest ever of its kind. Watch the whole conference here, then come to our next coalition meeting!  We know that racial discrimination is one of the root causes of criminal (in)justice system. The Hate U Give is narrated by a 16-year-old girl whose life becomes public on a national level when she witnesses a white police officer fatally shoot her childhood friend, Khali, who is a Black teen. She is the only one who can share what really happened that night Khali was shot, and what she says has an effect on her community. Through fiction, this book attempts to teach readers what life is like for a young Black person in America.  The story of five young boys who were wrongfully convicted has been brought in the spotlight again by Ava DuVernay’s new series, When They See Us. Whether or not you have already seen the series, this book is a must-read to understand the deep-rooted race and class divisions in New York City at the time of the conviction, and how this case could've easily been in Louisiana, too. Sarah Burns tells the full story of this historic case as a microcosm of the ongoing criminal (in)justice system in America. This is a thought-provoking summer read for those who want to learn more about institutional racism and the challenges that young men of color face from arrest to sentencing and beyond. While this book and those before it have painted a picture of mass incarceration today and how it came to be, we also know that we need resources that can help us imagine a world without incarceration. The next books on this list will take you on that very journey into the future.  One out of every 7 people in prison in the United States is currently serving a life sentence. The Meaning of Life advocates for the end of life sentences, as well as reducing all sentences to 20 years or less. The authors explain how most incarcerated people age out of crime and once they are in their 40s, meaning that from then on they are at a very low risk of recidivism. This is a book for those who hunger for compassion and justice.  Imagine a world without prisons, a world more focused on healing and rehabilitation than punishment. Are Prisons Obsolete? advocates for the end of incarceration. Longtime prison abolitionist Angela Davis describes how prisons perpetuate racism and sexism, and imprison Black and Latinx individuals for capitalistic reasons. For generations of Americans, people thought the abolishment of slavery was not attainable, but it was. People thought segregation would last a lifetime, but it did not. Now we are asking you to believe in a world without mass incarceration. This book is a must read for those who are ready to take on the case for the complete abolition of all prisons.  Danielle Sered is a good friend of VOTE’s, but that’s not the only reason we chose this book for our list. Sered helps us see the possible future by offering insight into how we can address violence without relying on the inhumanity of mass incarceration. This book centers not just the stories, but also the desires of survivors of violence in terms of healing, accountability and interacting with the people who hurt them. She shows that people who commit violent crimes can accept responsibility and make meaningful amends to those they have hurt--something that the current process of trials, sentencing and incarceration doesn’t allow for.  Last but not least, this book discusses one of VOTE’s most important values: community. This book influenced Woodfox, the author of Solitary (which is earlier on this list), to believe that one man can make a difference. The Different Drum describes what community means, how it can be developed on the principles of love and tolerance, and how it transforms our lives. Peck addresses the stages of spiritual growth and shows how the weaknesses of human nature and lack of true community in the world have led to some of the world’s most pressing problems. This book is for those who seek to learn how to be authentically part of communities and how, together, we have the solution.
|
Archives
October 2019
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
© 2019 VOTE. All rights reserved.
Voice of the Experienced | 2022 St. Bernard Ave., Suite 307, New Orleans, LA 70117
504.571.9599
504.571.9599