To some in the audience, Jeremy White sounding like he was preaching.
“I was 19 years old when I got incarcerated. I was facing 120 years,” White, 42, said, his words deliberate, his cadence suited for a Sunday morning pulpit, his Tennessee drawl full on.
Black men who were incarcerated between the ages of 15 and 22, and tracked for roughly 40 years ending in 2018, had a significantly lower life expectancy after their release from prison than non-Blacks, according to a recently released Boston Medical Center-based study.
From the courthouse, I was remanded, without bail, to Rockland County Jail. The next morning, I lifted myself off a three-inch-thick mattress, stood and stared out of a window high on the wall of my cell. Blue sky is all I could see. A resolve swept over me: “You need to get through whatever lies ahead so you can get out in the world and discover what life is really about. There has to be a better way to live.” I made that pact with myself.
For decades, criminal and juvenile justice reformers have fought to dismantle the policies, structures and funding schemes that make up the nation’s overly punitive justice system. Recently, these efforts have been gaining traction. Polls show growing public recognition that the juvenile and criminal justice systems are harsh, ineffective and biased against people of color.
Reform campaigns, many of which are led by justice-impacted people, have taken critical steps to repeal some of the “tough on crime” approaches that gave rise to mass incarceration and an overbuilt juvenile justice system. In the past several years, more than a million people with felony convictions have won the right to vote in Florida, 16- and 17-year-olds are no longer automatically tried as adults in New York and North Carolina, the nation’s largest death row (California’s) has halted executions and progressive district attorneys have been elected in Boston, Philadelphia and San Francisco. Yet success in state legislatures or at the ballot box can be fragile.
From Louisiana to New York, juvenile detention centers are reporting more staff and children testing positive for COVID-19. Incarcerated youth are extremely vulnerable to infection. We know these numbers will only continue to get worse unless youth justice systems act immediately. Releasing youth from locked facilities where social distancing is impossible or avoiding sending them there in the first place is critical. This is why even those of us who have experience running such facilities are calling for action.
When I first heard the topic was on guns, my initial response was I have zero experience with guns. Other than using a water gun at the local fair to win a prize, I never held a gun, shot a gun or even seen a real gun in person.
I scrolled down my Instagram feed when I spotted it. It was an image of a jail cell on Rikers Island. Below was a caption that read, “Free studio apartment in a gated community with ocean views and vintage style rod-iron double doors. Excellent security and free laundry.”
I’m writing this for the benefit of families who may have a family member trapped in a foreign prison, for other advocates and for my own closure. What I have learned could fill volumes.