The fight to be heard not stereotyped

The fight to be heard not stereotyped

The fight to be heard not stereotyped, and launching paid subscriptions

Delonte Wilkins writes about his experience with the journalist Aaron Wiener who reported on gentrification:

“During the interviews, I shared so much detail with Wiener on my life experiences with the violence of gentrification, and even my experiences with the legal system and family struggles. I eloquently broke down the system and explained how gentrification developed.

I broke [gentrification] down to Wiener, and also explained to him my experiences with the criminal justice system and being arrested for marijuana multiple times. I found it funny that in his article he failed to mention that though marijuana was illegal at the time, it is now legal. […] He decides to leave the reader guessing by only saying “drug possession”.

I could go on and on about how Wiener, in this article, erased all the violence that my community faced for the new white colonizers. Or about how he erased my strength and courage in fighting back and reduced me to some sort of criminal beggar whose only saving grace was a nonprofit. He fails to mention my accomplishments.

Articles like the one Wiener wrote can be described as slightly informative and vaguely thought-provoking. Yet, the Washington Post and all major media. even while having opportunities to tell unique and accurate stories, choose to perpetuate the same narrative over and over: poor, drugs, criminal, social services, Section 8 housing, etc.

So while I’m fine with Wiener and the Washington post pointing out my struggle, prison sentence, drab housing, bedbugs, stress and anxiety. When it comes to the fight against mass incarceration, displacement, and gentrification, all I ask is this, Storytellers: Don’t forget to mention. I gave it all I had to give.

LinkUp Magazine is a prisoner-centered platform to elevate the voices and political agenda of the most oppressed. Our aim is to build and maintain a community focused dialogue, and provide accurate news and information to our subscribers.” (Thank you to the team for letting us repost this story.)

Tae (Delonte) is writing about this story which published in 2018. To see his full article from the Winter 2020 edition visit LinkUp to get the magazine.

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Trauma’s role in justice

Rabb graduates from the Pivot program after his release from prison. He stands between Alyssa Lovegrove, academic director of the Pivot Program and the managing director Josh Miller. Photo: Georgetown University's McDonough School of Business

Trauma’s role in justice

Released, one man reflects on trauma’s role in his criminal justice journey

By Yusef Rabb
By Yusef Rabb

Rabb is from Washington, D.C. where he works as a consultant and educator with multiple re-entry programs.

On May 9, 1991, I entered the judicial system as an 18-year-old man-child from South East Washington, D.C . 1991 was one of the more volatile years in what was called the crack-era. As a young man, I was trapped in an environment where, before my young mind could recover from one traumatic experience, I was faced with another. I began losing playmates at 15-years-old. My homie Boo got shot by an adult in the backs of his legs, his back, and then point blank in the back of his head. The head shot left his mouth twisted. Forget about broken homes, this intergenerational drama broke a community. To survive I had to become hyper-vigilant towards anyone or anything that could prevent me from making it home each night so that my family could still their worries.

They treated me as my prison jacket instead of me.

On that day in 1991, I was falsely accused of murder. Despite my plea of innocence, at 18-years-old, I was ushered into the adult system and sentenced to 26 years to life. To my amazement, I encountered waves of people who had obviously shared most of my traumatic life experiences in prison. This helped me to conceptualize my initial overwhelming feeling of woe. Therapy came by way of my shared experiences in prison with other vetted prisoners. Each of my experiences with prison psychologists was very distrustful. 

 

They treated me as my prison jacket instead of me. I also found myself associating their help with the unnecessary administration of compliance inducing drugs. It was always traumatic to have to see them, which was usually during intake. On the intake form there is an emphasis on suicide. Being trapped within a system that seemed so expectant of trauma is still traumatic for me. The safe spaces for me were through the mutual discovery and support that many were experiencing much worse than me which helped strengthen my resolve. In a concentrated sea of despair, I no longer felt hopelessness approaching it – it lived with us. I found a way to dilute my trauma through sharing in others’ stories. After discovering rather quickly that many people were illiterate, I found an opportunity to connect. I read motions, legal mail, and letters from loved ones with my guys. This mutual sharing bonded us. Writing and reading is still the way I deal with my trauma

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