(Cross posted on my Patreon)
I’ve been thinking a lot about safety, as I watch people get murdered in the street by government agents for the crime of existing, and people thrown in jail for decades for the terrorist act of Trying To Help People. Also, the illusion of safety that comes from ignoring those things, or refusing to stand up and point them out; or the illusion of safety that comes from compliance with a system that harms and murders others.
I have had the privilege of knowing (directly and indirectly) a lot of people I consider to be superheroes. Just average, everyday people who end up doing wonderful things to protect their family, their community, or the world. Some of these people do things like create art that makes the world a better place, grow food to feed their neighbors, or share knowledge and expertise where it is needed. I also know people who have put their entire bodies on the line, or sacrificed their entire life as they knew it for a specific or even general cause.
As for myself, my mind is adventurous and willing to entertain an entire universe of thoughts. I am a thinker, a connector, an observer, an occasional peacemaker, a poet, and an artist. My body, on the other hand, prefers a certain amount of comfort that I have grown used to…and perhaps even more now that I’m growing older and my body expresses its opinions louder. To me, it feels like the “bodies on the line” folks have a kind of bravery that I lack. Or that I missed an opportunity at a critical juncture in my life and ended up in anarchist administration, instead of field work.
That may be true, but the larger reality is that all communities and movements need both kinds of people, and the entire spectrum of kinds of people between and outside of these. We need everyone, in fact, who shares the belief of collective liberation and freedom from oppression for all. And unless you are of the mind that everyone has the exact same capabilities, skills, and desires – which is pretty much antithetical to collective liberation – we need you, too. And that other person who has a skill you don’t value as much (even if that person is you?) We probably need them (you,) too.
We also need to support those who have ended up in prison for putting their bodies on the line, whether they intended to do so, or not.
I want to talk about the Prairieland Defendants right now, because they are the most recent example, but they are not by any means the only people who are in prison for supporting a cause. I feel a personal affinity for the Prairieland folks because, even at a time in my life when I was completely risk averse due to having young children to care for, I have attended noise demos. Those activities have never been considered remotely high-risk. Yes, precautions always need to be taken. Especially now. But I would have been very shocked and unprepared to be hauled off to jail for bringing noisemakers and standing outside of the city jailhouse on New Year’s Eve to celebrate with those inside, or to be charged with terrorism for watching an entire punk rock show outside of a detention center in TX – both events that have happened numerous times with zero negative consequences within the last ten years or so,
I cannot even imagine how it must feel for those folks – who did not set out to risk their lives. They were not laying their bodies down in front of bulldozers. They were not chaining themselves to trees. They were merely standing outside of a harsh and brutal building, making sure the beating hearts inside would know they weren’t forgotten by those of us outside of the walls. They were there on my behalf. I’d like to hope they were there on your behalf, as well. On behalf of everyone who has been rendered immobile by the crushing weight of everything that is happening all at the same time right now, and everything that has always been happening. They were there to represent our collective sorrow, our hopeful joy, and our loving solidarity. Because THAT is what anarchism is about. They may have discussed prison and prison solidarity in their reading groups, but they almost certainly weren’t thinking that knowledge would be required for a noise demo.
And yet, from everything I’ve read about the (non-snitch) defendants, they have handled everything with the bravery of any of the people I have ever known who CHOSE to take a stand that they knew would put them in jail. I can only imagine how very scared and lonely they must be right now, but they have been and remain so fucking strong.
I am proud of them, but we must free them. If we can’t free them, the least we can do is offer the same they were offering: reminders that they will never be forgotten. They will never be alone. They will always be loved.
To write to the Prairieland Defendants: https://prairielanddefendants.com/write-to-the-defendants/
To find other political prisoners to write to: https://nycabc.wordpress.com/guide/
I have been listening to interviews with Eric King, and drawing a great deal of inspiration from his story. He makes it clear the support he received in prison was life-changing.
This interview with Eric King, Jake Conroy, and Josh Davidson (Eric’s co-author) was especially good: https://thefinalstrawradio.noblogs.org/post/2024/10/27/prisons-and-prisoner-solidarity-with-eric-king-jake-conroy-and-josh-davidson/#Prisons&PrisonerSupport
Specifically this quote by King:
I don’t know if any of you know Tom Manning, but he’s one of our elders. He’s one of my heroes. A dedicated anti-racist fighter and warrior. He did brutal time. He was also at ADX. He did five years there, and he was someone I looked up to. When he passed away, I thought, I wonder what his life was like like. I wonder not what his ethics are, but what’s your day-to-day like? Did you have friends? Did you ever cry? Did you ever miss your son? And I was desperate to know this because, between me and you, I’m very soft. I am a very emotional person, and this stuff that was happening imprisoned me at these times was crushing. It was hurting me physically. I got the scars, but it was also destroying me emotionally. And I felt really alone. Because when you read about our elders, what you hear is this bombastic, like “We’re fighters. We never back down. We do this, we do this.” But you never get to hear the vulnerability of like, “I cried because I missed my son’s birthday.” Or “My little girl turned 10, and I didn’t get to hug her.” So I wanted to know, am I alone? Am I a *** because I’m crying all the time? But that was really, really important to me to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling this.
When Josh and I formulated the question—Josh made the lot smarter than I could have—and when I read other people’s answers, I saw other people had a bad time. Other people felt things, other people were sad sometimes, and other people made friends. It’s okay to make friends and find happiness because finding happiness is resistance inside. If you can find joy inside of it, you’re beating these mothersf*ckers. When I got to read about different people’s experiences, not only like, “Yes, I’m sad all the time,” but also, “Yes, I’m happy all the time, and I do it despite these punks trying to bury us.” That made me feel… What’s the opposite of alone? It made me feel encompassed. Like what you said, we’re in this together. We’re a unified front of resistance inside of prison, it’s both our joy and our vulnerability that binds us together, and it made me feel so happy.
And this quote by Conroy:
But if I can echo what Eric said, those little bits of support that might feel like a little bit, from someone on the outside, as a huge, huge boost to people on the inside. I always call letters a jailbreak. Every letter was a jailbreak. You get that letter. And I was very lucky. I got a letter literally every single day that the prison would give me my mail, which wasn’t all the time. But on the days that I got mail, I got a letter. Sometimes I got five. Sometimes I got 20. Sometimes I was getting 50 letters a day. Which is incredible, which speaks to the level of support that we all on the outside understand those on the inside need. But every one of those letters I would take up to my cell, and I’d set them out, and I would open that one, and I’d read the front, I’d read the back, and that was a jailbreak. It was a prison escape. I looked at the picture of the cat someone sent. That’s cute. I got so many pictures of cats, which I appreciate, of course. And then I put that letter away, and open the next one. That was my next jailbreak. If I was lucky, I get five or 10 jailbreaks a day. And every letter 5-10 minutes, I get to read it. And I would read it so slow and savor them. I’d hear about your vacations, the food you’re eating, the television show you’re watching, the camping trip you went on, and stuff you might have been thinking was so boring. No one’s going to want to read this letter. That was me escaping from prison, and then I would get to as much as I could write everyone back. And that was a prison escape. And the relationships I formed with people, similar to Eric, are so special to me. I got out in 2010, and I’m still friends with people that I wrote in prison. I still have very special relationships with them, and I still go and visit, and they visit me, and those things wouldn’t have happened without prisoner support. And so I don’t say it lightly when I say that those letters and the support that I received, and I’m sure Eric received, saved my life. I don’t mean that metaphorically, or figuratively, it literally saved my life.
I am so thankful these folks made it through, and grateful they continue to share their stories and educate people. And I’m grateful for the support people, who worked tirelessly to record all of the court notes, press releases, and community organizing (THE NECESSARY AND IMPORTANT ADMIN WORK) on behalf of the Prairieland Defendants. I’m proud to be part of a larger community that prioritizes not letting people fall through the cracks. And I will say loud and proud in the middle of my room full of thousands of zines to the tiny audience of this blog – I am proud to be an anarchist.
Stay well, y’all. Be as brave as you possibly can. I love you.
Featured Song: Akron/Family – Before and Again https://youtu.be/CfT_eaK8UQU?si=wWERtssEaiYiNGrg
UnrulyMom.Com 