Theater, prison industrial complex, and community unity

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Classic jazz. Jumping blues. And welcome to the Coombran Report. May the peace and blessings of the life-giving creative spirit of the world be with you. And upon you and upon your family. My name is Melvin Ishmael Johnson. And I'm in the studio here at Skid Row Studios coming at you live. This week we will be talking about theater and the prison industrial complex with writer, actor, and director Jesse Bliss from the Roots and Wings Project and the author of the play Tree of Fire and Ernest Bickern Shepard who spent 45 years in prison. And he's been in prison for 45 years locked up in the California prison industrial complex. Now I'm delighted to have with us in the studio writer, actor, and director Jesse Bliss. She's the founder and director of the Roots and Wings Project and the author of the great play Tree of Fire. Jesse, welcome to the Coombran Report. It is an honor to be here, Melvin. Thank you so much for having me. Also with us in the studio is Ernest Bickern Shepard who spent 45 years in the California prison industry. He's the founder and director of the California Prison Industrial Complex. Actor, writer, Lee Shaw and Jerry Civil from the Families to Amend the Three Scracks. Jesse, I'd like to start off talking with you. Can you tell us a little about your background and how you got off into acting, writing, and directing? Sure. I used to create theater when I was very small long before I ever saw a play. I watched television. Every time I could. I was very drawn to film. When I was six years old, my mother's best friend, Fran, came to my elementary school and she did a play. It was the first time I'd ever seen a play. I will never forget that moment. I knew right then and there that that was my destiny. It was tumultuous for me growing up. It wasn't until I was an adult that I was able to go full-fledged with it. During growing up, I would create, and direct plays at my school. And then when I was 20, I moved to San Francisco. I moved to the Tenderloin District. And within three weeks, I met my acting teacher, Linda Lawry, who was a prodigy of the original actor's studio in New York City. And she took me in and she taught me everything she could and really mentored me. And it was from there that that's where I got my wings in the theater. Mm-hmm. Yes. Now, can you tell us a little about the Roots and Wings project? Sure. I wrote a play called Roots and Wings. I was living in New York City and loving it and working with a troupe of women. We were writing our own pieces and traveling. We went to Europe. We went everywhere with our shows. And I came to visit my mother in Sacramento when 9-11 happened and I got locked out in New York. I wasn't going to go back. There was no place for me at that time. And so the director, I had to go to New York City. I had been working with, said, why don't you write a play? And that way you can still be here in New York. And within a day, I found a box of letters from my ex who had been incarcerated. And his incarceration had a big impact on me because at that time he was the closest person to me. And he really looked after me and took care of me at a moment in my life where my parents weren't really doing that. And so I went through and I read every single letter and it jolted me back to that time. And I wrote the play Roots and Wings, which was about a woman coming to terms with her past in order to be able to move on. And since then, I've written several plays and I've been teaching for nine years at Central Juvenile Hall. And I think from the work I've done in there, I have not been able to turn away from what I've seen in the prison industrial complex. And so it's just grown into, it's just grown into a part of my life and it's just grown into a part of my life. And so I think that's what I'm trying to do. And I think that's what I'm trying to do. And I think that's what I'm trying to do. And I think that's what I'm trying to do. And I think that's what I'm trying to do. For female artists to part of connect to, communicate with, and honor their creative forces. Can you talk about that a little? Sure. The Roots and Wings Project has started to do a lot of educational programming. We have a program going on at Bayfront Youth and Family Services and a placement home. And this particular workshop you are mentioning happened yesterday. It was called Eclipse. And the idea is that when one celestial body passes another, you can't help but take notice of what's coming in front of you. And so this workshop happens for female artists to come together and to talk about the challenges of being an artist, of being a woman, of being a creative person in a patriarchal society, and come together in a room and connect deeply to ourselves to each other and provide an arena of support through writing exercises that culminates in every single woman leaving there with the clear idea of their creative work and what it is that they're most connected to in that moment and what they want to move forward with. And we also go over a plan of execution for each woman so she can leave there not only understanding what it is that's moving her and what she wants to work on, but how to execute it out in the world. That's full of challenges. Now, do you have playwriting workshops, too, for the female writers? We have not yet offered those. The workshops that have happened, we've had four workshops this year. One was co-ed, and thus far, actually two were co-ed, and thus far they've been for artists of every genre. So we've had poets and rappers, singers, dancers, everybody coming together. So we haven't yet offered playwriting specifically, but we do plan to. Now, what do you think about some of the challenges that you're seeing in the world? Is that female in theater phases as opposed to male? You see different challenges? There's lots of... Oh, yes. So much challenge. It simply comes down to misrepresentation. The psyche of women, the heart of women, the soul of women has been largely left out of literature. Women have only been allowed in college for 100 years. And so as a result of that, we need to create our own work. Because, and that's really how I started writing. My background is as an actress. But as I started getting out there and grabbing material, I was disappointed. And honestly, I was a little bit hurt. I'm like, are you kidding me? I can't say these words. I cannot make my body move to this piece right here. I can't even get involved with it, you know? And so then I started writing. And I think we have a long way to go. We need to be telling stories. Women need to be telling stories. We need to be telling stories about our experiences and what's happening in our hearts and our souls. Because right now, it's not out there nearly enough. And because of that, it's still blatantly patriarchal in the theater, in film, and in every arena. And I think women are a little bit silent about it still. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Okay. Beautiful. Now, can you tell us about your play, Tree of Fire? What is it about? And how did it develop? Sure. Tree of Fire takes place at a women's prison out in the middle of no woman's land. And these women, there's three women that have been doing time together for a long time. And at the top of the play, a fire breaks out. And the place is filling with smoke, and they're not being evacuated. And so in the face of this possible death, their lives start flashing. And they're remembering all these moments of their lives. And some are poignant and beautiful and magical, and some are really, really dark. But they're all just being inundated with these memories. So the play flashes back to the memories and then back to present time. And they have this incredible relationship to each other, these women. And we really see that during the course of the play. There's lots more to say, but I won't tell anything more than that. And as far as... You gotta come see it. Yeah. And as far as the project, the process of developing the play, the play honestly has a soul and spirit of its own. It came through me. I don't really feel it's of me. This piece really came through me. And I was determined to put the play up for a full run in an abandoned prison. And we did do a reading of the play at Lincoln Heights Jail. And I realized in that environment that the play did work there, and it was meant to be there. However, I was met with so much bureaucracy. Trying to access a space. I realized, you know, and then other plays and projects came up. And I started, you know, working on other things. And this year I had the distinct realization, as did the entire company of the Roots and Wings Project, that the bureaucracy of the prison system was actually stopping the play from coming to light and preventing the story from being told. And once I realized that, I thought, you know what? Forget the abandoned prison idea. It doesn't matter where the play goes up. The play is there. The play just needs to go up. So I started looking at warehouse spaces as an alternative. Excuse me. And I've been doing some teaching work with Inner City Arts this year at the Jordan Downs Housing Project and at the Children's Institute. And I was there on campus at Inner City Arts on Skid Row. And I walked into their beautiful, breathtaking theater. And I took one look, and I got the chills. Because it's state of the art, and it's new. But more than that. It feels industrial there. And it feels like the play. And so I'm just really excited that after a four-year journey, we've been at UCLA Theater of Note, Lincoln Heights Jail, and Spark at the old jail in Venice. We did a fundraiser and a reading there. We're finally at this point where the play's opening for a full run there at the Rosenthal Theater, January 11, 2013. Looking forward to it. Now, what was the experience like? You mentioned George. You mentioned Jordan Downs. You did something up there. What was that like? It was magnificent. I'm always in awe of children and people who allow themselves to access their imagination and enjoy freedom and fun when their circumstances are difficult. And that's what I saw out of those children. I saw them invest themselves 100% into the programming. And it was just awe-inspiring. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. women were put into facilities that were built for men and they never did well. Women, you know, there was lots of suicide. Women don't fare well inside a prison. And furthermore, they are forgotten about a lot of the time. Many of these women have children. So like 70% of women in prison have children. So there's babies without moms, there's moms without their babies, which in itself is so painful. And then, you know, people don't come to visit them. In men's prison, there's lines, they get married, they have opportunities to consummate their marriage. For women, they don't really have visitors. So they're kind of forgotten about and left to rot out in these places. And I don't think that there's enough urgency put behind that right now. People need to recognize what is going on and how many women are getting locked up. There's never been this many in history in any part of the world. It's great that you're bringing attention to that. Let me ask you about this. I was looking on your website and I see that you had as your development director, Mr. Peter Woods, who's also the event director at the Last Book Store. Can you tell us how that came about? Yes. Peter read an article written by Mike the Poet Songson in Brooklyn and Boyle. The article was about my work and it was actually a lot about Tree of Fire. And so he approached me and asked if I could write a site-specific play for the Last Book Store. And I was really moved by the idea and I already had a play that had been running in my head for about two years about the Akashic records, ancient Hindu soul records that supposedly tell you all about your other lives prior to this one. I had this idea and I thought it fit really well into the bookstore. And so Peter and I with no budget whatsoever, and people kind of looking at us like, wait a minute. This is a bookstore, not a theater. You guys are crazy. We just thrust forward and we did it and we packed the houses and it was really extraordinary working together. Our team turned into 20 people. We had live music by Pitch Like Masses and Peter's background is in music and arts and culture. And so we come from different backgrounds and they really lent themselves well. You know, we really, I feel, got a lot from each other's different perspectives. We got so much we got married. So that's awesome. Yes. Now that's a blessing. That's a blessing. I'm so grateful. Thank you so much. Yeah. Yeah. A great little cultural arts institution, the Last Book Store, ever since they moved into that location. Now at this time, I would like to bring in Ernest, Big Ern, Shepard and Jerry Civil and Lee Shaw. And we're going to move it into a round table discussion talking about the prison. And the industrial complex. Now, Big Ern, can you tell us a little about yourself? How did you end up spending 45 years in the prison industrial complex? Well, thank you for inviting me here. It's been a great experience so far. If you know, if you take it in isolation, then it becomes just an isolated picture. But let me ask for your indulgence for a moment. So. I'm going to attempt to give you a little background that led up to the culminating events of 45 plus 14. What if I have years plus 14 months ago? Because that's how long I've been out 14 months. Um, I started off, you know, on the East side in the ghetto and, uh, I started out as a believer in this society and in this world. And I, my mind was so open, man. I believe most everything. That my teachers and the ministers and all the people told me, you know, and I really took it to heart. And, uh, obviously as I grew up, I began to see the contradictions and I began to see the racism in the society. And I began to see this world wasn't always, you know, that the Easter bunny wasn't really real. You know what I mean? And all the things they told me weren't really real. And, uh, I began to see that I was regarded in this society as a secondhand person. As a lesser than. Person and something inside of me really rebelled against that because I didn't feel like I was less than anyone. So I began to struggle and I began to raise, I began to become a righteous reactionary. And so the next, uh, best place for me was to be, to go right into the hands of the juvenile authorities, the juvenile people. And, uh, then some of my formative years were in a lot of reform schools and, um, they were steadily telling me, well, we're going to put you down. We're going to put you down. I kept resisting. I kept fighting. I kept struggling for something. I don't know, but I knew that I wasn't supposed to be, uh, I knew that I wasn't supposed to accept being oppressed. And I knew I wasn't supposed to accept being a victim. And I knew that's the only thing, the only resources I had was to resist. And so, um, my life revolved around, uh, juvenile, uh, youth authorities, uh, complex, you know, I guess a pre-prison complex. So August the 30th. 1966. You know, I'm a young thug out there on the street. And, uh, I, um, had learned how to use my hands and, uh, to settle most things. And, uh, I got in a fight with, with a person and I had no intention of killing him. But this is just how fate happened. He died. And so, uh, the district attorney attempted to offer me a deal for $6,000. And I said, well, I'm going to move to kill you. And he said, well, I'm going to move to kill you. I felt, though, as though that I didn't, it was a fist fight, no weapons were involved, et cetera, et cetera. I felt as though it was a manslaughter. He said, well, since you're not going to plead guilty to second degree murder, I'm going to move to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to move for first degree murder and ask for the death penalty. And so, my, my juvenile, my extensive record in youth authority, my juvenile record, my militant, um, uh, appearance, because I had this big natural, and in the 60s, having a big afro natural on your head, black, a basketball-shaped one, was considered, you know, really a radical, revolutionary, whatever you want to call it. And I refused to cut my hair, you know. Um, and I was a very angry young man. So, it didn't take much for him to parade me in front of the jury and, uh, and begin to dehumanize me. And he told, he told me, he said, I'm going to kill you. He told the people, he said, this man does not think like you and me. He does not feel, he doesn't have the same feelings as you and, as you and me have. He's a throwback, you know, from some other kind of era, some other kind of species. And the only thing that we can do with him is kill him. And he told them, he told the jury that this man does not deserve due time in prison. This man does not even deserve to breathe penitentiary air. You must kill him. And this jury, they agreed. And they gave me the death penalty. So, I sat on death row three and a half years. And then I began to study, you know, the, uh, the contradictions in this so-called law that they have. And, uh, I, after three and a half years, I won a reversal. And I came back to court and I refused to accept any of those lawyers. So, I became the lawyer. And, uh, I conducted what the Sentinel newspaper said, where I was the first black to conduct a capitalization pro per. So, I went pro per. And I won a life sentence. So, in 71, I went to Folsom Prison with a seven-day life sentence. And I figured that I could walk it off on the yard. That was 45 years ago. And so, graciously, I'm here now. And, and I just thank you for your indulgence and, you know, let me express it in terms of, uh... Well, but let me ask you this interesting story. I mean, that's a movie. That's a play in itself. Um, what is some of the major... What are some of the major changes you see in the community you left and the one you came back to? What are some of the major things that you saw? Well, uh, ironically enough, uh, you know, when I, when I left the community, I saw a lot of... This was like in the days of the Watts riot. And this was in the days when, say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud. And this was in the days when blacks were fighting for their dignity and righteousness and self-respect. And blacks were in the vanguards of a whole lot of, uh, political events and a whole lot of things, man, came from... Black leaders were, uh, were, were created from out of prison. And, uh, uh, it was a rich time, time culturally for, in the black experience. And over the years, I sat in prison and I watched how forces against positive began to encroach upon that. And, and, and how life that once was so ripe and promising, man, began to weather, weather away. And I come back out on the streets and I see things that make tears come to my eyes. I see blacks now accepting being called a nigger. And they adopted, they become volunteer niggers now. When I left, blacks were given their lives to not be called that. And I marched to those kind of drummers. And I was willing to sacrifice anything for the dignity of my people. And then to turn around and see these people, uh, uh, uh, embracing the essence of our, uh, uh, degradation. It's really something, it's really incredible. I mean, in terms of making it part of their culture, like music and rap. Right, right. And attempting, they say they're rehabilitating it. I haven't seen the rehabilitation. They say that they're changing it, that they're making it. I haven't seen it. It's just made. They're making them lower their pants and become really repulsive kind of type people. Man, and I'm really trying to see the redemptive value that I have yet to. My eyes are open when I have yet to see that. And so. Mm-hmm. Okay. Now, can you tell us about, I know you work with young people over in that, um, Florence, uh, uh, Normandy area. Can you tell us about that program? Yes. I, I've been fortunate enough. I saw these people and they sort of like adopted me. And they looked at my boxing history. I have a long history in boxing. So they accepted me. They looked at me as a boxing trainer for the kids. Right. And this gave me an opportunity to get at the kids. You know, I love the kids, you know, and, uh, this gave me through, through boxing. It was sort of like interesting. This gave me an opportunity to touch them and to, uh, touch their, uh, their sense of, um, self-esteem and, uh, and, and, and males and females, you know, and we got female going to those gender issues where, um, which is very, very, uh, significant. Yeah. And, um, reverse some of those negative trends. And this makes me feel so good. I become, I become, eventually I became a mentor to the kids. What's the organization? It's, uh, it's the Youth Justice Center, which is the overall organization. And it's Two Coast Gym, which has the, the, the so-called physical fitness and the boxing program. But I, like I said, I use the boxing program to get at and, and to reach into the hearts and minds of these kids, you know? So I see a lot in them. And I see a lot of promise. And I'm endeavoring to do my best to bring some of the positive things I've learned in life to share that with them. Now, let me ask you this. Um, because I know we was, we did a show and we was talking to Ms. George and, uh, uh, Williams, the, uh, the, the mother of, uh, football, Williams. And we were talking about why there were no, um, uh, programs over there for young people. You know, rec centers, et cetera, like that. Now, what do you see as the biggest need in our communities for our young people? Well, I mean, you hit, you hit the nail right on the head. Like the, the community that, the little, um, community-based organization that I belong to, like Two Coast, the Youth Justice Center, like FATS organization, like Fair Chance organization. These have taken the place of the probation officer, the parole officer, all these institutions that come from society attempting to reform, reform and help the community. These are not. From my experience, are not really serving the interests of the people. I think the people should get together and they should get these community-based, um, organizations, hands-on organizations where they can monitor their own people, where they can teach their own people, where they can show them self-respect because they know what self-respect is. And they can't fool these people. You know what I mean? And they should get mentors, you know, that refuse to be intimidated and refuse to be, um, sidetracked. And they should build these. They should build. All these little community-based organizations. And then more importantly, they should put all of them together. And if they put all of them together, man, we would have something very strong to offer our youth. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Now, now, how about, what do you think about the, um, the Hispanic-African-American relationship among our youth? How can we, uh, make that a little bit tighter? Well, um, you know, I come from the east side of Los Angeles. And I was so fortunate that I came. And I came, um. I came from a place where, um, I was born in a, in an era when black and brown were like conjuntos, as you can say. And my first wife was a brown lady. And we were very tight in those days. But that was when, you know, it was a different concept of, like, racism. I'm telling you the effects of racism. And when that racism is incorporated in another ethnicity where we are not enemies. We're not enemies. Black and brown are not natural enemies. We're not historical enemies. We haven't done anything to each other. We are not enemies. But the inculcation of these foreign ideas of racism created an artificial concept of us being enemies. Oh, man. And I hear blacks talking about, oh, man, these dudes ought to go back where they came from. These dudes came from here. You know what I mean? So it's all this artificial thinking that these people, uh, have adopted. And if they get back to their righteous, original, true thinking and true regards for their selves. Uh-huh. Then they'll have true regards for their own brothers. You know what I mean? Well, let me ask this. Let's open up our roundtable and bring back in Jesse and Lee Shaw. And we got Jerry, uh, Sylvia over there. Sylvia, let's talk about, here's what I want to bring up. I remember during the 60s. See, my original roots is from the South. Greenville, Mississippi. And then the Detroit, Ann Arbor, the hardcore Chicago cities and stuff like that. But I do remember, um, out here in the 60s and the 70s, at one time, among the African-American community, it was a push to learn Swahili and Spanish. And then, uh, and I think, what do you think about the fact that African-Americans didn't take the time as a community to learn Spanish during the 60s when that push was out? Do you think that has a lot to do with the split that's going on now, the communication gap between the Hispanic community and the African-American community? Anybody want to pick up on that? I would. Uh-huh. Because I don't think the split, um, originated within the people. Uh-huh. I think that, you know, you, it's, there's a whole way that people have been treated that are immigrants and they're pushed in for their labor. And then they, they labor for their labor. Uh-huh. And then they labor for cheaper wages. So obviously there's going to be already a division there. I mean, blacks don't want to, you know, work for less than a minimum wage. Why would they? But then their jobs go to Spanish, you know, immigrants, whether they're from Mexico, Latin America, or whatever. You've already got, right there, problems. And it hasn't been created by those individuals. But by the industries, and we were talking earlier about jobs and where they go. By these industries. They make the biggest, highest profit they can. So they don't care what color it is, you know. And, and then there's that and on top of that the neighborhoods and how they were encroached upon and how you had, you know, neighborhoods that were maybe mostly black. And then, you know, Latinos moved in with their culture. And it's all well and good, but it was, it's kind of, people were pushed into having to accept each other. You had to be bilingual to be able to teach. So black teachers then had to be bilingual. I mean, it's all this kind of stuff. How are you not going to resent that? And I don't think, you know, if we lived in a society that cared about its people, then they would have assured that this kind of a move was made beautifully. You know, where that learning of different languages and stuff like that was encouraged. But they really didn't. And I've worked with both, you know, only Spanish speaking and blacks. And it's, it's sad to see that. I mean, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that it's sad to see such strong divisions. It really is. Anybody else? Yeah. When you push people, there's a culture shock. Right? And this didn't happen over a period of time. It just kind of happened real quickly. In 1982. On the border. On the block where I live at. There were two Hispanic families. In 1994, there were six black families on that block. This didn't happen gradually. It happened quickly. Right? And the people didn't have the time to adjust to what was going on. It was just thrust upon them. You know, and everything began to change. And resentments jump off when things begin to change too quick. Right? So you blame this person for your problem. He blames you because you didn't sell your problem out and vice versa. And I haven't even want to put it. You know what I'm saying? So the big man, the man with the wheel, right? He knows what was going on. And he meant for it to happen like that. That's right. I'm not going to sit here and tell anybody or sugarcoat anything. The man with the money is tending to keep the money. And he said any divisions, it won't be with him involved in it. It'll be somebody down below. It gives him a chance to keep on pushing to the top. Let me ask this question then. Why is the Hispanic black African American relationship so different and much better just in Northern California or East Coast, Midwest? And I would gladly show you the difference between Southern California and Northern California. Yeah. There is a shared venture where they share in the community, right? Something that Los Angeles and Pollywood never have. They don't share a community. In Oakland, they share a community. In San Francisco, they share a community. Berkeley, A. Haywood, V-town, they share a community, right? That means when we all, we push in our community, we all go in the same direction. Down here, they go in different directions. They live in neighborhoods down here. And not communities. Not communities. Okay. I can speak to this also. I'm speaking from a place that, wow, it's like, well, I'm just going to speak because I guess it's time to speak about this. In the, up north, the black and brown communities are more or less have a natural alliance or a natural association. And they just sort of like have a less of an outside influence in determining their interactions. A phenomenon happened down south. I'm intimately aware of the Southern, like I said, the Southern Hispanics, the Southern Mexicans, right? At one point, this was in the late 70s, they formed an alliance with the Aryan Brotherhood. And I was on the yard. I'm in Folsom Prison. And I'm in wonderment. I said, man, why are you dudes aligning with these white dudes that's racist? You know, and I got all kind of different, oh, man, well, that's this and that. But they allowed themselves to be influenced, man, by this racist propaganda, man, coming from these ABs. And they hooked up, man. Yeah. So this is how that racism came to these Southern Hispanics so deeply, more deeply than to the Northern Hispanics. Because the Northern Hispanics didn't have to have that kind of influence. As a matter of fact, the Northern Hispanics and the blacks were allies. You know, that's why they would say the Norteños and the blacks together and the Southerners and the whites together. That's how all that came about. So it wasn't naturally from the people. And we used to sit on the yard, man, doing peace treaties and say, man, just like what I just, y'all ain't my natural enemies. You know, the only kind of way you hook up with these people, this puts you in a camp. Man, that is incompatible. So that's one answer. It might be many others, but that's definitely one of them. Yeah, I remember when the prison scrap was going on and the hunger scrap. Yeah. And we used to talk about that. We used to talk about why should the outside community be concerned with what's happening on the inside, especially in the, we was talking about the shoes, the security housing unit, when they're so segregated. You know, and I think that was one of the main debates that we had in terms of a lot of people that wanted to support it. And they say, well, why should we support it? And they can't unify on the inside. They divided in there. But let me ask you this. How do this transcend off into the women's prison? What's happening there? What's going on there? Do we have these same kind of divisions? The same problems. The same thing. Because once you have a division, right, especially in Southern California, no, it's the same. It don't matter. There's no difference. Mm-hmm. Jess? I do notice in juvenile hall, I teach writing in there, and they love each other. The black and brown kids, when you're in the halls and you got pen and paper and a moment to breathe, I have never seen such calmness. I have never seen such camaraderie in my life. And I have never in nine years, I've never seen beef due to race in my classes. And I'm in some of the hardcore units, DFS and SHU, the special handling units. And these kids, that's when you really see what you were saying, Biggar, and that I don't think it's the human instinct. It's a conditioned situation. And that's so beautiful to see that. And I crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab crab You know what I'm saying? To push me out of education so you can get to... Why can't we get along in this thing that Rodney King said? You know what I'm saying? We have a common goal. So why can't we get along? Because there's too many influences from the left, right? To make this thing work for them. It's got to work for them, not for us. So you got children being influenced to be in what they call, what I would call a social club, but a gang, right? You got to be influenced. They're little kids, right? To grow up in this society, and you got to belong somewhere. If I want to belong somewhere, I want to belong with the human race, not with a bunch of monkeys. Now, let me ask this then. Anybody, feel free to chime in at any time. How can we use the arts, especially theater, to make changes in the prison system, male and female? Okay. Who want to pick up on? One of the things that brings a spark to most inmates, convicts, is to get away from this thing. Everyday prison life. So when they're able to perform or do something different, man, right? It brings about some hope in the individual, right? To push even higher. Than that particular point. See, can't nothing get inside you then. Because you got to go. I'm going to make this thing work. I'm going to be the next Charles Dutton. Right? I'm coming out with the real end. I'm going to be the next Charles Dutton. And ain't nothing going to stop me now. Right? So when you got bands and people going to play on you, see, they've eliminated most of that stuff. And I'll tell you, they've eliminated most of all that stuff anyway. Anything that you could possibly get your hands on to push you, they eliminated. The school, eliminated. Art, eliminated. Right? And the only thing you can possibly do is get involved in the church program and then weed your way back. Let me ask this. When you look at the 60s, and especially I want to get some feedback from you on this too, Jesse. We had classics that came out of the prison system. The autobiography of Malcolm X. Soledad Brothers. QEP. Pete Newton. Revolutionary Suicide. George Jackson. Yeah, you can just go down the list. What I wonder is where is the corresponding female classics that come out of prisons like that? You think there's a reason for that? Or we don't have... Anybody want to chime in? Well, I mean, I know that we don't probably hear about them as much, but Marilyn Buck is very well known. I mean, she's there. She's dead now. She died soon after she got out. But she was a writer and she wrote... I mean, it's not of the nature when you're talking about seminal things like Malcolm or George Jackson, but I think it's there. But I definitely wanted to speak to this other question that you raised about the unity. So I think the hunger strikes, that was what was significant about them because they came together across racial lines and they were very clear on that. That this is not about, you know, our race. This is about all of us suffering the cruelty of solitary confinement. And just recently, these same individuals wrote up like a statement or what would you call it? A declaration. Okay, a declaration calling end hostilities. And they called for an end to hostilities all throughout the prisons. And, you know, these are the representatives at Pelican Bay, our northern... Northern Hispanic, Southern Hispanic, black and white. And that was, you know, done purposely. So they're calling, you know, they're saying this is a game they're playing on us. We don't need to fall for it anymore. Let's come together and end these hostilities. And it's pretty significant, you know. Those are just words. But let's see what happens because I know I've talked to a number and written and whatever, a number of prisoners that agree with that. You know, they see how stupid it all is. I mean, you know, Ern's a great example of it, but there's others that say, I mean, you know, they're the ones getting screwed by it. So I think there is a bright light there, you know. I think not only is that significant, that's historic. And I think that they have to wait all the way until they got to the end of the line in order to see there's a necessity to end that racism. And so here you got the guys in Pelican Bay, which is like you call the shot callers, declaring an end to this racism. Yeah. This is going to filter down just like it's been filtering down. So I went to Jefferson High School myself and it was 70% black and 30% Hispanic when it was cool. And then it reversed. And they're receiving directives from the vanguard, I guess you would call it, the Pelican Bay, all the guys. Now, you've mentioned why in the women's institutions, you don't see people like Malcolm, like George emerging. Right. You don't see that. You don't see that in the black prisons either. This is what this is because of the inculcation of this racism. It's causing, we don't have our heroes that we used to have. I'd be looking for our heroes and we don't have them, man, because they inculcated with all this racism. I think once this racism becomes reversed, you're going to see all these beautiful people standing up again. And you're going to see all these heroes emerging again. We have to deal with the spectral racism, man, it's artificially been implanted. Okay. In the atmosphere. Let me get some, I want to hear Jessie's, some of your thoughts on what do you think about women's in prisons and some of the special challenges that they face? Well, I think art is the most transcendent healing available to human beings, the most immediate. I teach in a juvenile facility, you know, and I'm an artist firstly, you know, I mean, this play, this play, like I said, it kind of, it came through me. And my firsthand experience in the prison industrial complex has been as a writing teacher. And what I see is young girls that are pregnant, they don't get anything to support that pregnancy. They don't get anything. They're in there like, they don't even know the first thing about how to take care of their bodies while they're pregnant, how to deliver a baby. They are taken from the jail to the prison. They're taken to the county hospital. They deliver the baby. They're lactating. The baby gets ripped away from them and they're thrown back. And I mean, I work with them in one week. They, I see them, we're working together. And the next week I see them and they've delivered and they've been taken away from their baby. Their chemicals are imbalanced. They're crying. They're in physical pain. So, you know, I see the juvenile system right now as the government starting place. They know if they can go after our youth and make, you know, they can make a prisoner, they can make a lifelong prisoner. So that I see the beginnings and a lot of my students, sadly, my female students do end up in prison. But this is the incubation for it. And this is where it begins. So I think it's just being completely forgotten about and not nurtured in any way really. And I think these great works of art are missing right now. Like kind of what you said, Earn, in general, they're not really coming out like they were before. But I think also because people, people need just really basic things to make art, just real basic things. And I don't think they have access to them. I know my students don't even have access to pens or pencils when I'm not there besides the one hour a week. So I can only imagine in an adult penitentiary, it couldn't be better. Let me ask you this. What is the obligation of the religious community, especially in relationship to the females incarcerated in jail? What are their obligations? What is their involvement, the churches and the mass jiz and the synagogues and stuff like that? You rarely find the support you would need because it's, what I'm trying to find out, it's just an extension of the warden. Whatever he says, whatever he says goes. You can't push past that. You know what I'm saying? You find those who make a friend, if you say imam or pastor or priest or rabbi, makes a friend in the warden, he basically can kind of push some things through. Now what could writers do? What could the playwrights, the artists, what can they do to amplify a lot? If you, I think Big Ern would agree with me, if you can link yourself into that prison, bro, you can come out with some stuff you wouldn't believe because you got some writers in there. You got some educators in there that ain't never going to get out. But what they want to do is link theyself to something. Okay, I'm not going to get out, but I'm going to give, I'm going to let you live through me. I'm going to live through you. I'm going to give you everything I got. All of, everything I got up here, I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to link it, I'm going to give it to you and let you run with it. And you'd be surprised with it. I mean, you got brothers up there that's got licenses, but got businesses trying to generate some money to get out. You know what I'm saying? Sooner or later, they're going to get out. But who knows when? So they got to keep moving. But they still want to give what they got away because it's just in there, man. It's constantly consuming this stuff. Okay. Let me respond to a religious aspect. Now see, you have some religious people who are like, could have been like heroes like Mahatma Gandhi or other people who believed in the spiritual kind of type thing and they didn't compromise with it. A lot of these spiritual people in prison are these preachers and things that they subvert their religious message to the rules and regulations of the wardens and all like that. So they gain a quick sense of distrust. But the thing is like, you know, I relate to spirituality and I think a lot of people, when you look at the spirituality and then you look at art and spirituality, art and spirituality are so conjoined together, that becomes like a sort of like the religion. And if you can encourage that, then you can, people adhere to that. Like you're uplifting their spirit. It's a transcendental thing. It creates miracles. It can create miracles. So if you encourage art and you get true devotees into the realms of art, then you are covering their religious or their spiritual needs. Okay. Look, let's move into our voices from the community. Open mic section so I can hear some of these great artistic works. Let's start off with Big Ern's going to do a piece called InVision. Well, okay. Let's hear the piece you got. And I'm honored to share this because this is like traditional and like emerging really in San Quentin. And we had a lot of different groups. And often, you know, I would do this piece to begin a lot of different groups. Okay. And just like this lady said that this song, like she said, her work passed through her. Well, this poem sort of like passed through me also because it's not, I wasn't the author of the poem, but I resonate with it. This is what the disclaimer I give to the most, the comic. Okay. Okay, here's the poem. Out of the night that covers me, black as a pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade. Yet the coming of the years finds and shall find me unafraid. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud, I have not winced nor cried aloud, under the blunting ends of chance, my head is bloody but unbowed. So it matters not how straight the gate nor how charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul. And then when I used to say that, we was ready to party. Whatever we had to do. Okay. Okay. Beautiful. Now it's time to Jesse to do a short piece. Jesse, please. I wrote this when I was nine years old. I had a, my grandfather before he died gave me this white parakeet and I didn't like the sight of it. If I were free, if I were free as God made me to be, I'd roam the never ending sky. I'd see no bars in front of my face and my wings would stretch as I fly. Wow. Wow. Wow. Nine year old. Pretty deep. Yeah. Wow. Yeah. Roots and wings. That's what an uncaged bird sings. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Now, Sylvia, Jerry, you gonna do a piece for us? Did you have a piece to do? I don't have a piece. Had I known, I would have written one. Oh, okay. That's okay. You are a piece, Jerry. You are poetry. Thank you. That's real. We're gonna hear your closing comments in a minute. And then we're gonna have a little bit of a break. We're gonna have a little bit of a break. We're gonna have a little bit of a break. We're gonna have a little bit of a break. Now, Lee Shaw is gonna do a piece called, Cage the Mind. Before they caged the body, they caged the mind. They captured the soul by breaking the spirit with negative thoughts of nothing. Can you cage a thought or capture the wind? It's not the prison guards with guns, but the inmates and convicts who refuse to become one. No positive light, the prisoners caged, locks of the mind. Negative thoughts. They want to live right, like a person without sight, darkness into the middle of the night. The real prisoners are scales of the mind, locks of negativity standing in place and marking time. Those who challenge every positive thought, ask them why. Is it to hold you back? Without a doubt. But it's the system that cages the body, but first, they cage the mind. You hold the key with a positive mentality, and you hold the key with a positive mind. With a positive mentality, free yourself with positive thoughts. Don't be afraid to dream. Don't let your dreams become a nightmare. Negative thoughts are prisoners of the mind, standing in place and marking time. Like the darkness of the soul, a ball of confusion, the truth must be told. Can't you see? Only the truth can make you free. Positive thoughts are healing for the soul. Free your mind, and your body will follow. Before they caged the body, they caged the mind. It's not the prison guards with guns But the inmates in con because they refuse to become one Negative thoughts of nothing Taking honey from a bee Making you want to kill your brother because you fail to see Merge with the totality of mentality Take a vacation from madness Or trip from sadness See the light, hope and gladness Days without night Can you cage your thought Or capture the wind It's all an illusion But I'll say it again Can you cage your thought Or capture the wind It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion It's all an illusion proposition