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excerpted from: Michelle S. Jacobs , Piercing
The Prison Uniform of Invisibility For Black Female Inmates; Book
Review: Paula C. Johnson, Inner Lives: Voices of African American Women
in Prison (New York and London: New York University Press, 2003). 339
pp., 94 Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology 795-821, 808-811 (Spring
2004) (149 footnotes omitted)
A woman's struggle to protect herself from violence in the home is
difficult under any circumstance; however, African American women have
an added dimension to their struggle. In addition to the gendered nature
of violence, they must also contemplate the effect that reporting
violence may have on the black community in which they live. Frequently,
black women are asked to subordinate their own needs as women to the
needs of the community. Cooperating with authorities against black men
can "result in community abandonment or scorn because of the
perception that black men are selectively penalized."
The reality confronting black women requires a multidimensional
approach to evaluating the lawbreaking of black men and a woman's
response to such activities. Black women know the experience of living
in an oppressed community. They know their communities are both
underserved by the police and at the same time are subject to
"hyper-aggressive policing [,]" resulting in large scale
arrest and incarceration of black men and other men of color. Black
women feel the effects of racism on their community and the economic
consequences of racism, not only for themselves, but for their men as
well. Many black women, even those experiencing violence at the hands of
black men, will try to avoid subjecting black men to the possibility of
law enforcement oversight or control. Black women "may connect the
physical abuse with racism." In her research on battered black
women, Beth Richie coined the phrase "gender entrapment" to
explain black battered women's interplay of loyalty and racial identity.
Richie posits that gender entrapment helps keep black women locked into
relationships where violence occurs. The loyalty trap affects the
ability of black women to seek protection and effective counseling. For
example, African American women do not feel comfortable discussing their
problems in an integrated setting. The fear is that the disclosure may
hurt the community. Therefore the prohibition against airing dirty
laundry becomes more important than healing.
This complex play of loyalties surfaced in the narratives of the
women in Inner Lives. Their narratives poignantly depict the struggle
the women face between choosing what is best for themselves and choosing
what is best for their black community, or more specifically what is
best for their men. Their positions, both as women and as black people
in subordinated communities, "colored" their decision making
at every moment. This is reflected in the narrative of Marilyn who
refused to testify against her co-defendant, a boyfriend who brutalized
her. Her failure to plead and testify against him earned her a sentence
of twenty-two years to life. Judge Juanita Bing Newton, whose narrative
appears in the third section of Inner Lives, also mentions the
phenomenon of loyalty in connection with the case of Angela Thompson.
Thompson, a young black woman, played a small role in a drug ring run by
her uncle. She was arrested and faced a possible sentence of fifteen
years to life under New York's Rockefeller drug laws. Judge Newton later
learned that Thompson had refused a plea which would have exposed her to
only three years in prison because she believed if she accepted the plea
she would be required to testify against her uncle, who raised her after
her parent's death.
What do black women receive in return for race loyalty? Does the
level of violence against them drop? Are they valued and respected more
in the community? It does not appear that they are. Black women who have
been incarcerated have a difficult time re-entering their own community.
Wives, girlfriends and mothers make efforts to see incarcerated men, and
the men are welcomed back to the community upon release. The same cannot
be said of black women who serve time. They do not receive the same
number of visitors as black men. Karen Michele Blakney, for example,
received no visits from her family while she served time in a federal
prison. They simply could not afford to travel to where she was
incarcerated.
In contrast, when a black man who has children is arrested, the
children's mother, his mother or grandmother may assist in raising the
children. When a woman goes to jail, who maintains her family? Very
rarely is it the father of the children. If she has immediate relatives
who are able, they may take her children; otherwise they are placed into
the foster care system. If her incarceration is extended, she may lose
her children. She may not even know where her children are. In the
narratives of many of the women, they expressed concern about the
wellbeing of their children and they worried about how to keep their
families intact. Joyce Ann Brown, Ida McCray, and Donna Hubbard Spearman
have all started organizations since their releases to address the
conditions women are facing in prison. In particular, Joyce Ann Brown
and Ida McCray seek to help women maintain ties with their children by
arranging visits between child and mother, and by providing counseling
for the children. Sandra Barnhill's organization (AIM) does the same.
They also provide support services to the caregivers who step in for the
mother while she is incarcerated, who are frequently stressed and
subject to the same living conditions that the incarcerated woman faced.
Once black women are released from prison, they do not receive the
same reception from the community that black men do. In the words of
Donna Hubbard Spearman:
[M]en are almost made martyrs and heroes when they come out of prison
and go back into the community. But when we go back into our
communities, we are not only unfit people, now we're unfit mothers, and
it's hard to trust us. . . . The communities want women who come back
from prison to become gray shadows and to disappear, because if you are
there, then we have to address you. Through her work, Rhodessa Jones of
the Medea Project: Theater for Incarcerated Women helps the women learn
who they are, to think through the unresolved issues in their lives, and
to gain discipline through performance. She helps the women find their
voices and gives them an outlet to express the emotions which may be
trapped inside.
Despite the adversities which they have all experienced, the black
women of Inner Lives refused to remain silent. These women will not be
gray shadows. In telling their powerful stories they demonstrate that
they are a force to be reckoned with both while incarcerated and upon
release.
[a1]. Professor of Law, Frederic G. Levin College of Law at the
University of Florida. |
