"Close your eyes and come close, try to imagine this with me. You are graduate student whose work is in Chinese medicine. Your dream is to be a healer. And maybe, while you are sleeping in your wife's bed, which is in a cottage that's part of a cooperative village, where artists live and children come for free painting classes, maybe you are dreaming that you are saving a life, and in the midst of that dreaming, you are yanked out of bed by armed men, dressed in riot gear who possess no warrant, who have snuck into your bedroom through an unlocked back door. Their only reasoning is that you fit the description. And who exactly gave that description? What other proof did they have? How did they know you were even sleeping in that bed, since the cottage is not in your name but your wife's? How is this different from tactics used by the SS, the KGB, the Tonton Macoute? And who is the real criminal, the real terrorist? And how will they will be held accountable? To this day, the stench of these questions lingers, the stench of rotting meat unaddressed, unanswered."
4.5 stars.
Khan-Cullors' story is really moving and inspiring. She takes us through a life of trauma and fear, but also of resilience, love, and community in which people truly support one another. She encourages us to imagine a better world and fight for it. I would have liked to know more about how certain initiatives she fought for panned out. For example, I think she got a civilian oversight board instated to look over the sheriff's department. I'd like to have known more about that organization's success, how prisoners report issues and how they are subsequently addressed, etc. I also would have liked to hear some statistics about the positive impact of marijuana legalization, for example how many charges were dropped and prisoners freed with that new legislation.
For negatives, I'd say Khan-Cullors repeated herself a bit, which I really hate when nonfiction books do that, it's like they think I wasn't paying attention the first time. I understand she may have been repeating facts to emphasize them but it was really just the exact same thing twice. The listener/reader questions didn't always feel aligned well with the chapters. The quotes (and I guess journal entries? Didn't know that was part of the book until reading the description on Goodreads just now) were interpersed with the text and difficult to follow in audio format.
I listened to the audiobook, Khan-Cullors read pretty well. The recording quality wasn't great for Angela Davis' foreword but it was understandable.
I hope this will be required reading in schools and highly recommend it.
Quotes (formatting/quoting may be off, since I am transcribing from the audiobook):
"There are more people with mental health disorders in prison than in all of the psychiatric hospitals in the United States added up. In 2015, the Washington Post reported that American prisons and jails house an estimated 356,268 people with severe mental illness, a figure that is more than 10 times the number of mentally ill patients in state psychiatric hospitals in 2012, the last year for reliable data, about 35,000 people."
"I call an ambulance and do a mini intake over the phone, but they will not come to help when they hear [my brother's] background.
'He is a felon?' They say. 'You have to call the police.'
I beg, 'Please help us. This isn't a criminal matter.'
They refuse. They disconnect the line. My mother and I go back and forth and decide we have no other choice. Distraught, I call the local law enforcement office, one of the most difficult calls I've ever had to make, and explain everything.
I beg them to go slow. I tell them Monty's history with police because by now I know he was beaten and tortured by LA County sheriffs.
Two rookies arrive and they are young as fuck. I meet them downstairs. I ask them, 'What will you do if my brother gets violent? Monty's never been violent, but I'm trying to prepare for anything. I'm --we're-- in a place we've never been.'
'We'll just taser him,' one responds.
'No! My god, absolutely not!' I refuse to let them pass me until they promise me they won't hurt him, and when they finally do I lead them into the apartment, explaining to Monty as I walk through the door, 'It's okay, it's okay, they're just here to help.'
And my brother, my big, loving, unwell, good-hearted brother, my brother who has rescued small animals and my brother who has never, never hurt another human being, drops to his knees and begins to cry. His hands are in the air and he is sobbing. 'Please don't take me back, please don't take me back.'"
"'I remember how being young and Black and gay and lonely felt. A lot of it was fine, feeling I had the truth and the light and the key. A lot of it was purely hell.' -Audre Lorde"
"But a week into his very first paid position, [Monty] was promptly fired. His background check had come back. ...[The words here are not perfectly clear to me], get the hell out. We tried pulling him closer to us, and my mother begged him to live with her, risking her Section 8 status. If you have government housing benefits, you cannot have anyone living with you if they've been convicted of a crime, even if they are a juvenile and even if they are incapable of caring for themselves because of an illness, and even if they cannot get a job because even the most low-level jobs won't hire someone with a conviction. In California, there are more than 4800 barriers to re-entry, from jobs, housing, and food bans, to school financial aid bans, and the list goes on. You can have a 2 year sentence, but it does not mean you're not doing life."
"Two days later, Monty is transferred to Twin Towers as a high-power alert prisoner, which means he is classified as a threat to officers. To hear this is complete cognitive fucking dissonance. My brother has never hurt another living being, let alone a cop. But he has been stripped, beaten, and starved, kicked, and humiliated by cops. So they get to call him the threat. They get to call him the harm. They get to charge him with terrorism.
Incarcerated as a high-power alert prisoner, Monty is kept in his cell 23 hours a day, in solitary confinement, a condition that has long been proven to insitigate mental illness in those who previously had been mentally stable. In my brother's case, he deteriorates quickly, predictably, horribly, and without a singly doctor on that staff to assert the oath -- First, do no harm."
"When I go to Twin Towers for the first time to visit my brother, he makes the plea again.
'I don't feel well, Trisse. Could I please have my meds? They give me Advil, but I need my meds. Please, Trisse, please.'
His voice, the look in his eyes, breaks my heart. I wonder if heart meds are withheld from people, cancer meds, and asthma pumps. We know Hep C treatments are. And Naloxone, which can reverse an OD, has been. We certainly know meds that would slow the onset of AIDS have been kept out of reach of certain groups of people. What kind of society uses medicine as a weapon, keeps it from people needing to heal, all the while continuing to develop the drugs America's prisons use to execute people?"
"How is it possible that the only response we have for poor people who are mentally ill is criminalization? How does this align with the notion of a democratic or free society, to not take care of the least of these?"
"I accept this, that my mother is leaving. But I cannot help think that the drug war, the war on gangs, has really been no more than a forced migration project. From my neighborhood in LA to the Bay Area to Brooklyn, Black and brown people have been moved out as young white people build exciting new lives standing on the bones of ours. The drug war as ethnic cleansing."
"'Nobody in the world, nobody in history, has ever gotten their freedom by appealing to the moral sense of the people who are oppressing them.' - Assata Shakur"
"...but like the horrific history of lynching in this country, when the story is told, women are often left out of it, even as we are lynched, too."