Dedication

In early June, prisoners rights activists at California Prison Focus, California Coalition for Women Prisoners, Legal Services for Prisoners with Children and Amnesty International received information from women housed in the VSPW SHU that sexual harrassment and intimidation by staff, which has been constant since the prison opened in 1995, has gotten much worse. Twelve women signed a joint grievance against prison staff stating that the mistreatment consisted of sexual assault, improper touching, leering at women in showers, intimidation and constant verbal harassment. For your bravery in fighting back against abuse, we dedicate this issue of Fire Inside to the whistle blowers in the VSPW SHU.

Roz Simpson Moore-Bey, HIV and AIDS activist

by Laura Whitehorn, Federal Correctional Institution, Dublin, California
On June 1, Rosalind Simpson Moore-Bey died at home in Washington, D.C. To anyone who has passed through the D.C. Jail or CTF (Central Treatment Facility), Roz’s name is not only familiar–it is well known. Roz was a warrior.
Roz did time in D.C. and at the old Federal Women’s prison in Lexington, Kentucky, in the 80s and 90s. It was a time when AIDS and HIV were surrounded by even more ignorance and prejudice than today. The medical establishment, the government and the media didn’t even recognize that women get HIV and many women suffered terribly and died quickly with AIDS, undiagnosed and uncared-for. The earliest mention of HIV, as a virus that infected women, was when men claimed to have contracted HIV from prostitutes. The sex workers remained faceless: they existed only as vectors of the disease, a danger to men.
Despite the extensive number of HIV-positive women prisoners at Lexington in the early 90s, there was absolutely no effort by the prison to educate women about HIV. When a group of prisoners got together to educate ourselves and conduct discussion groups, we found that the other prisoners were too frightened of being suspected of having HIV even to attend the events. Confusion, fear, and suspicion were rampant.
In this climate, Roz did one of the bravest things I’ve seen in over 13 years in prison. She stood up in a meeting of over 400 women and said, “I am living with AIDS. I am proof that AIDS is not just a death sentence. We have to love ourselves and one another.” Her words, her courage and her dignity forced a crack in the dam. What followed was an outpouring of interest, grief and need–all of which enabled us to do an enormous amount of education, counseling and support. Rosalind was at the heart of this work–even when she was stuck in the prison hospital for days and weeks at a time.
I know she saved some lives with her teaching and preaching; I believe she saved some souls, too. The cost to her was not insignificant: she often exhausted herself working when she should have been resting. And she was often the target of idiotic AIDS phobia. All the while she was doing battle with her own demons, including the pain of rejection by some people she loved. Roz refused to fight these battles for herself alone, but turned them into weapons to strengthen others. I once watched Roz lead a support group for an hour and a half, weeping the entire time, but never allowing her grief to silence her. She had to keep speaking, because the other 15 HIV-positive women present in the group were still so shocked and terrified by their disease, that they could not yet articulate what they desperately needed to say.
In 1993 Roz was one of the earliest beneficiaries of the D.C. Medical Parole process. Prisoners with AIDS could receive compassionate release on parole. Roz, who had been at death’s door enough times to be paying rent there, was a clear candidate. With the strongest spirit imaginable, she fought through illness after illness, amazing her wonderful doctors, medical workers, family and friends. A year after her release, she married a terrific partner, James Moore, and together they struggled for her life.
Not once in the 5 years since her release did she stop fighting for other prisoners with HIV and AIDS. Toting her portable oxygen tank, walking despite painful neuropathies that had her in a wheelchair for a while, she returned over and over to lead support groups at the D.C. prison, and to speak to any group that would listen and might help. When I meet women who have been sent into the federal system from D.C., they never say, “Oh, yeah, I’ve met Roz.” Instead, they tell me how she helped them, did something for them that no one else had been able (or willing) to do. How necessary she has been to so many people.
Every day for the rest of my life I will miss Rosalind achingly. None of the words meet the task of describing her–inspiration, example, heart, courage, dignity, perseverance, commitment–not one measures up. But any time a prisoner with HIV or AIDS manages to ease their pain, Roz would have been present. And any time any person decides not to turn their back on the needs of prisoners, Roz’s tremendous spirit will be felt.

Battered Woman in Federal Prison

by a prisoner, Marianna, Florida
I received my copy of The Fire Inside this week and read it from front to back. I was really impressed with the article about Theresa Cruz, I pray she is now with her children.
I can truly sympathize about not being represented properly. I have been incarcerated for over 7 years now, because my case should have been represented as Battered Woman’s Syndrome. However, mine was simply another court-appointed case. I gave my attorney a list of 15 people who would testify on my behalf. Not one of them were called. I have spent the last seven and a half years in federal prisons.
The camp in Marianna, Fl., where I have been for the past 18 months, is 12 hours from my family. I have requested several times to be moved closer to home, but that has not been a choice for me.
I have participated in every program that has been recommended. About a year ago I was given “community custody.” This enables an inmate to go into the local community and work on various projects. However, I am not allowed to go. Because of my violent nature. What a joke! I have been told I will not even be considered for a furlough.
I will be expected to walk out of here sometime next year and have a job within 3 days. What do I wear for my job interview? My gray sweat suit that the prison was kind enough to sell me for $30.00? That, by the way, is an entire month’s worth of wages for a lot of women in here.
You had an article about “Fund Education, Not Incarceration.” I have been enrolled in a computer and accounting class for approximately six months now. I have not had a single class. There is no teacher. I was issued books and I’m sure someone is receiving money for our attending these so-called classes. In the meantime, when I get released I will not have any kind of certificate stating I participated in this course.
Hopefully, once I am released I will find the right channels to make things different for the women who come here. The federal prison system is in need of someone’s immediate attention.
Sincerely, someone who has been here for seven and a half years.

Theresa Cruz’s Bail Revoked

by Diana Block
After 18 precious days of freedom with her family, Theresa Cruz was forced back to prison by the state of California. A federal judge had granted Theresa bail while the state of California appealed the ruling that overturned her conviction. Her mother had just managed to raise the property to bring her home. But the San Diego district attorney’s office appealed the bail ruling to the Ninth District Court and won. Theresa spent her brief time outside the prison walls helping her older daughters to find part-time jobs, volunteering in a recovery program, and reconnecting with her son and her youngest daughter whom she has never had a chance to live with. Now she is back in the California Institution for Women, struggling not to lose hope. On the day before she was to return to prison Theresa wrote: “It’s so hard to believe that one moment I can touch, feel and love my children, and the next minute it is all taken away so fast for no reason.”
We, her supporters, are also in a state of shock, wondering why the San Diego District Attorney and the state of California are pursuing this woman in a way that amounts to psychological abuse. Is it because she is a battered woman who dared to stand up and say that she was unjustly convicted? Is it an issue of political ego and male pride on the part of the District Attorney’s office?
Theresa, her mother, and her children are trying hard to hold on to the strength that has enabled them to fight for Theresa’s release all these years. More than ever, they need our support! Write to Theresa Cruz at #W-40058, CIW, Frontera, CA 91720. Send domations to: Defense Fund for Theresa Cruz, Accnt. #6832 217806 (write accnt.# on check), Wells Fargo Bank, Bonita Office, 4180 Bonita Rd., CA 91902. Send protest letters to: Office of the District Attorney, Attn: Paul J. Phingst, Hall of Justice, 330 West Broadway, Suite 1300, San Diego, CA 92101, Fax# 619-237-1351.

Editorial

Staring into the eye of the Critical Resistance icon we see the importance of such a symbol for these times: before you can open your mind, you must open your eyes. Thanks to mainstream political and media neglect and distortion, the deliberate location of prisons in remote areas, and the social stigma ascribed to prisoners, the eyes of many Americans have been clouded or closed when
turned toward the prison system in the United States. We have reached a point, however, when society can no longer turn this blind eye toward the prison industrial complex and its injustices.
From 1980 to 1996 an absurd number of new repressive laws (over 1200 in California alone) swarmed the books. These laws, such as the fiasco known as “three strikes,” disproportionately target the young, the poor and urban people of color.
For the past two decades, women have been granted “preferential” entry into California prisons. Incarerated at a rate faster than men, more and more women are being convicted for substance abuse crimes, which require lengthy mandatory minimum sentences, and for property crimes, which reflect their worsening economic situation. Yet, most women inside do not receive drug treatment, the majority of rehabilitation programs have been discontinued.
Women who resist their abusers because they have been given no other course by the system are given life sentenes and the history of abuse is most often ignored.
While rehabilitation has been abandoned, prison industry is growing at an unprecedented rate. State and federal prisons provide private industry and its investors with dirt-cheap labor without the inconvenience of foreign limitations and tariffs, employee rights and regulations, or “pesky” unions.
More than 80% of women prisoners have children. More and more children are placed with overextended relatives or in foster care and are at a higher risk for incarceration themselves. The cyclic nature of this system is clear, and the only way to end the continued suffering by those on both sides of the prison wall is to end the cycle. Society cannot afford to treat these women and children, or any
one, as disposable people.
Women and men who have been politically active in exposing and fighting the system have in many cases been framed for crimes they didn’t commit and have been given disproportionately harsh sentences for their acts of resistance.
The tough-on-crime posturing by U.S. politicians and others is merely an evasion of the truly tough social issues of economic injustice and sharp racial disparities. The crisis in the United States is not some “crime wave” but the increasing distance between the haves and have nots, between “us” and “them,” between the dominant white society and communities of color, which are suffering the brunt of this crisis.

Critical Resistance: Expanding Our Vision of What Is Possible

For three years now California Coalition for Women Prisoners has been inspired by the resistance of women inside California state prisons. Through our activities and writings, we try to bring out the voices of the women.
Sometimes it is a “simple” story of resisting systematic de-humanization through expression of indignation and anger.
Sometimes it’s a story of helping other prisoners with their daily life: setting up peer counseling for HIV+ prisoners, helping new women know their rights, helping them fill out a complaint against a particular case of abuse, as well as millions of other ways. Guards consciously play one prisoner against another, heighting racism and all other divisions present in society. Any act of solidarity is precious in that it resists that form of control.
Sometimes this resistance takes the form of an out-right challenge to the whole system, such as when Charisse Shumate agreed to become lead plaintiff in a suit charging the whole Department of Corrections, Governor Wilson and the State of California with cruel and unusual punishment of women prisoners through intent or non-existent health care. She wrote: “Now my concerns are no longer for myself. But my sisters…who I have seen die.”
The courage and vision of the women inside inspire us on the outside to find ways to fight the de-humanization existing in society. The critical connection between the women inside and those on the outside, is the way in which the women inside expand our thinking of what is possible. For example, the Department of Corrections claims that the health care given to women inside is comparable to care given on the outside. While that is clearly a lie, Charisse stuck to her position, that the quality of care be measured in absolute human terms, not as a comparison to what someone else might or might not be getting.
An important question for the conference on Critical Resistance is: what do we bring to meet the voices and vision from inside? Can we, in solidarity with women on the inside, make it possible to expand what freedom means, so that it does not merely mean releasing prisoners into a society that creates prisons in the first place?
Critical resistance is when…

  • Charisse Shumate, who endures constant painful flare ups of her sickle cell disease, makes the difficult decision to become the lead plaintiff in a suit against the California Department of Corrections, for its medical abuse of women prisoners, standing up to a system that is slowly killing her.

  • Robin Lucas files a suit agains the Federal Prison in Dublin for systemic rape
    perpetrated by the guards and other prisoners, instituting, for the first time, a rule that any sexual activity between a prisoner and a guard is illegal.

  • Theresa Cruz refuses to accept abuse by the injustice system after years of abuse by a former partner, and wins a habeas corpus ruling that overturns her conviction in a legal climate where that is nearly impossible
  • Women in the Valley State segregated housing unit blow the whistle on guards who are sexually harassing them even though they know they will face harsh retaliation.
  • Mumia Abu-Jamal keeps writing eye opening, passionate columns from his cell on death row where he has been kept for sixteen years .
  • Women and men in the outside world refuse to cast a blind eye on the horrors that are going on inside prisons all over this country and join with incarcerated people to say we will watch you, expose you, and bang at the gates of the fortresses you try to hide until there is real change!

Inhumanity of Central California Women Facility Is in Full Effect

by Cynthia Russaw, CCWF
Inhumane, lacking pity or compassion, cruel, without emotional warmth, not suited for human beings. Sexism, brutality, deadly disease, corrupt staff, unsafe living quarters, unlawful influence by staff, unsafe food and drinking water, slave labor, threats against inmates, lack of adequate education, falsification of rule violations and little or no medical services.
Yes, CCWF’s inhumanity is in full effect! It is a present day slavery. The rationale may be to make society safe under the disguise of the Right Wing’s law and order. But, the truth is the enslavement of minorities and third-world citizens. Rehabilitation is a code word for turning inmates into animals, treating us inhumanely before we are released from prison, if ever we are released. We can get lost in the system forever until we are searched for by someone from the “free” world.
It does not come as a surprise to learn that prisons are the number one growth industry in the United States of America. The prison industry is a lucrative business reminiscent of days when our beloved ancestors were held in chattel bondage. I contend that the crime bill and imprisonment of inmates in CCWF is no more than the process of legally perpetuating inhumanity, backed up by the United States Constitution.
Upon release the State Prison System refuses to give any means of financial support, causing many to participate in unscrupulous activity. Then we are systematically re-imprisoned. We are faced with the same forced labor and the same brutal treatment given to the chattel slave.
The prison guard, street cop, F.B.I., judges and Congress from the big house to the White House are all advocates of this complex conspiracy. Billions have been earmarked to keep the present day slave imprisoned.
Understand that none of the monies are for vocational or educational programs. They pretend to educate inmates. However, they try to keep us ignorant because they realize that education is knowledge. Knowledge is the beginning of freedom.
There are presently over one million people locked behind the institution walls – duly convicted. In essence, there are over one million slaves. The entire prison system is overcrowded, but so are county jails. That doesn’t stop the haul.
More and more correctional officers are being hired who are equipped with sadistic mentalities and licentious demeanors. They are hired to keep the prison system running smoothly and trouble-free. They organize like a paramilitary composed of racist whites armed with slave-controlling apparatus. They use guns, night sticks, shackles, mace, full riot gear and fists, all of which can be used on the slave at the pleasure of the overseer.
Because of the racism that bubbles from beneath the surface of this nation’s psyche, the whole criminal network including cops, courts and the United States government will remain corrupt. The system will do anything to the prisoners to keep them stigmatized, socialized and brainwashed into believing that they are inferior in order to keep them “penally sub-servient.”
We must unite against this inhumane war against us. Universal law dictates that a closed fist (symbol of unity) is stronger than an open hand (symbol of division). We must strive to understand the necessity to be a united front.
Together we will win from the inside.

Former Prisoners and Activists Speak Out on HIV Behind Bars

by Urszula Wislanka
The HIV in Prison Project (HIP) held an event last July 29th which attracted close to 100 former prisoners, activists and supporters in Oakland. Judy Greenspan, Chairperson of the HIV in Prison Committee of California Prison Focus, discussed the growing crisis in prisons. There are many epidemics, not just HIV. The medical care is horrendous in the prisons. There are 280 men at the HIV unit in Corcoran, for example, where they are isolated and given no care. That unit should be closed and prisoners moved to appropriate care facilities.
Cynthia Chandler, Director of Women’s Positive Legal Action Network, described how much she learned about courage and dignity through her work with HIV+ women prisoners. The medical staff is totally inadequate. Medical coroners do not do an autopsy on any HIV+ woman. Thus women can die of virtually any cause, and there is no way to investigate it!
Corey Weinstein of California Prison Focus asked how the care can be so bad when the state spends millions and millions on prisons. The inhumane treatment of prisoners shows that are treated as the enemy in California. SHUs (Security Housing Units) were supposed to isolate the most violent prisoners. But violence in prisons has increased since the SHUs were built. It is not a case of “few bad apples” among the guards. These are systemic wrongs.
Former prisoner, jailhouse lawyer and organizer Ezra Davis found out he was HIV positive 8 years ago. He was put in a room, not allowed to see anyone and given no care for 3 months. He survived. But while in the Security Housing Unit he saw many who could not do anything for themselves. That’s when he became a jailhouse lawyer, filing suits on behalf of those prisoners. Ezra described life in prison made as inhuman as the guards can make it. He said, “Hope for us is people like you caring to come to an event like this.”
Paulette Santos Martinez has spent time at Frontera and Chowchilla. She has watched many women die. Most are not getting any meds at all. As a woman with AIDS she says it helps her to help others. She writes for them if they have trouble expressing themselves.
Bunny Knuckles, of WORLD, Women Organized to Respond to Life-threatening Diseases, has been working since ’92 with HIV positive men and women coming out of prisons. Many are homeless or living in shelters where there are no refrigerators to keep their medications. Pointing to the picture of Joann Walker on the podium, Bunny said “Joann was my friend. She was a fighter. We have to keep the fight going.”
We heard moving stories from families of prisoners who have died or who are still inside, living with HIV/AIDS.
All of the speakers stressed the need for forming a movement on the outside to support prisoners on the inside. They did not want to dwell on the horrors of prisons, but rather chose to focus on the importance of prisoners knowing that there are people outside who care, who would come to hear about them.

Convicted Battered Woman Seeks Relief from Same Court System That Allowed Exclusion of Women from Jury

by Christy Marie Camp, VSPW
Christy Marie Camp was convicted by an 11 man, 1 woman jury for the death of her husband. In the jury selection for her trial, her male public defender (now deceased) opted to select a virtually all-male jury to hear the case where the defense was Battered Woman’s Syndrome. He thought men would be more “sympathetic” to her plight. In a statement he made at sentencing he admitted he made a “grave mistake.”
It took Ms. Camp six years to gather adequate arguments to present to the courts. The district attorney’s office vehemently argued against overturning her conviction. “I hadn’t asked for an attorney, because I had done all the research and preparation of this petition myself.
“The Judge listened to me fight for my life for an hour and a half. He commended me on my self-representation and encouraged me to go to law school. He denied my petition based on the fact that trial counsel was deceased and could not be questioned and because I ‘waited’ six years to file my petition. His ruling didn’t even address my raising the excluded jurors’ rights (based on a 1994 Supreme Court case, J.E.B. vs. Alabama, where the Court ruled that eliminating potential jurors on the basis of gender violated the Constitution).
“It’s difficult to convince anyone to admit there was a mistake. Especially the judicial system which is [supposed to be] based on fairness.”
Even though J.E.B. vs. Alabama prohibits selecting a jury based on gender, the practice is still occurring. “I just met a woman last week whose conviction was rendered by a 10 man, 2 woman jury in 1995. That’s why I am making this wake-up call. People need to know exactly what is going on.”
You can help. Pass it on. Christy seeks declarations from law professors, civil rights educators, attorneys, battered women advocates and women who believe they have been excused from jury service based on their gender. Write! Cards and letters of support are welcome. Christy would like to start attending a correspondence law school. Tuition is $2,450/year and $350-$625 for books and materials. If you know of scholarship programs or grants, please let us know.
Write to Christy Marie Camp, W-32687, Valley State Prison for Women, P.O. Box 92, B4-29-04L, Chowchilla, CA 93610-0092.

Poetic Justice

Once I killed a man
oh please, do not be shocked
he used to choke me till I was blue,
then he would stop.
Oh yes, we were happily married,
or so the story went.
I told the cops what happened,
and to prison I was sent.
No, the judge didn’t want to hear it,
and as the jury knew
he was a man just like them;
I guess they too were through.
Oh, I testified to make new laws
to protect women in this state,
but tho those rules are now in books
for me it was too late.
They said to ask the Governor
for mercy on my case.
I did indeed, and six years later
no answer to my fate.
I filed papers properly,
as the court requests,
to gain a second look
at whether my conviction should rest.
I argued with the best of them,
oh how amused they seemed to be
but always found a reason
not to set me free.
I’ve been locked up ten years now;
I guess I should have learned
not to bother with a system
where the wheels of justice seldom turn.
Christy Marie Camp, Valley State Prison