It's impossible to exaggerate the impact of this book on me.
I picked it up simply because I wanted to learn more about Angela Davis. I knew only that she had been associated with the Black Panthers, and that she'd fought for the freedom of political prisoners. Reading it, I learned that there was a lot more to her experience -- all of it extremely relevant today.
I found great personal meaning in her struggle with social class barriers, violence, and racism. Her insights about her political involvement reinforced my own urges in this direction. She describes a childhood growing up among other Black children who "fought the meanness of Birmingham while they sliced the air with knives and punched Black faces because they could not reach white ones" (94). She reflects that "It hurt to see us folding in on ourselves, using ourselves as whipping posts because we did not yet know how to struggle against the real cause of our misery" (95).
Davis's eventual understanding of the cause of her misery includes not simply racism but a social and economic system built on exploitation and alienation, one that uses racism to maintain the status quo. I found Davis's explanation of her own process of coming to, vetting, and eventually embracing Communism thoughtful, relevant, and moving. One startlingly important revelation is as follows: "[Racism] is not just the attitude that Black people are inferior. Racism, in the first place, is a weapon used by the wealthy to increase the profits they bring in -- by paying Black workers less for their work… [R]acism confuses white workers, who often forget that they are being exploited by a boss and instead vent their frustrations on people of color" (61-2).
In addition to her ideology, Davis's description of her own time behind bars was engrossing. She structures the text within the narrative frame of her struggle to overcome the charges of murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy with which she was framed after a fellow member of the movement, Jonathan Jackson, turned to violence instead of political protest in hopes of having his brother, George Jackson, released from prison.
During her time behind bars, Davis's experiences of the American penal system and its dehumanizing effects are compelling. She writes, "Jails and prisons are designed to break human beings, to convert the population into specimens in a zoo -- obedient to our keepers, but dangerous to each other… Consequently, two layers of existence can be encountered within almost every jail or prison. The first layer consists of the routines and behavior prescribed by the governing penal hierarchy. The second layer is the prisoner culture itself: the rules and standards of behavior that come from and are defined by the captives in order to shield themselves from the open or covert terror designed to break their spirit" (52).
Davis discovers "how vitally important it [is] to resist every destructive current of prison life. For jails and prisons are deadly places. There was the mesmerizing inanity of television; a few boring high school texts, some mysteries and a lot of unbelievably bad fiction. The women could write if they wished, but the small notepaper, which was seldom available, discouraged serious writing in favor of casual notes which would be censored anyway before they were mailed. Even getting hold of a pencil could be an extensive and complex undertaking. There were the well-worn cards and games, indispensable props for every jail -- things to coat the fact of imprisonment with sugary innocuousness, fostering as imperceptible regression back to childhood. ...in the jailers' eyes, whether we are sixteen or seventy, we are 'girls.' They loved to watch over their child-prisoners happily engrossed in harmless games. Any pastime that was intellectually demanding seems suspect" (308-9).
She details "inane episodes" (302) and power struggles with jail matrons designed, it seems, solely to erode her sanity. She describes humiliation and bureaucratic idiocy. Her experiences of the warped nature of jails and the justice system lead her to some disheartening conclusions about the judicial system itself: "Here as elsewhere Justice was an image -- heavy, slick and wholly deceptive" (262).
Davis also thoughtfully explores fissures within her own movement, including the "natural inclination to identify the enemy as the white man. Natural because the great majority of white people, both in the United States and in England, have been carriers of racism which, in reality, only benefits a small number of them -- the capitalists. Because the masses of white people harbor racist attitudes, our people tended to see them as the villains and not the institutionalized forms of racism, which, though definitely reinforced by prejudiced attitudes, serve, fundamentally, only the interest of the rulers. When white people are indiscriminately viewed as the enemy, it is virtually impossible to develop a political solution" (150).
As a radically empowered female activist, Davis experiences chauvinism among even those who purport to be working towards the same liberation of which she dreams. She writes about it here: "I became acquainted very early with the widespread presence of an unfortunate syndrome among some Black male activists -- namely to confuse their political activity with an assertion of their maleness. They saw -- and some continue to see -- Black manhood as something separate from Black womanhood. These men view Black women as a threat to their attainment of manhood -- especially those Black women who take initiative and work to become leaders in their own right. The constant harangue by the US men was that I needed to redirect my energies and use them to give my man strength and inspiration so that he might more effectively contribute his talents to the struggle for Black liberation" (161). Needless to say, Davis effectively resists and subverts these pressures throughout the experiences outlined in this autobiography. Still, her reflections on sexism within even the most radical groups and her refusal to be silenced by it are empowering.
As Davis's dedication page reads, in part, her book is "for those whose humanity is too rare to be destroyed by walls, bars, and death houses." Closing this book, I'm left thinking of how relevant her struggle and words remain today. Since the book's publication in 1974, not a whole lot seems to have changed. Black men and women are still shot down in the street with near total police impunity. Political prisoners and whistleblowers like Chelsea Manning are locked up and vilified. Communism is still a dirty word and a political affiliation that can get a teacher fired. One thing that does seem to have changed is that fewer people seem to be speaking up in solidarity. Truly, the struggle continues. The most important thing I am taking away from this book is the validation of the essential nature of my own role in that struggle. Now more than ever, I feel the moral obligation to work tirelessly for social justice.