Life or Death

Posted on April 21, 2015 by Sarah Shugars

Last week, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was found guilty on 30 counts related to the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing.

The penalty phase of the trial begins today and may last for another four weeks. But the speculation has already begun: will Tsarnaev get the death penalty or life in jail?

To be honest, the death penalty seems unlikely.

I was surprised it was even an option since the State of Massachusetts found the practice unconstitutional in 1984.

Interesting, the reason given by the state supreme court at that time was that the death penalty “unfairly punishes defendants who choose to go to trial, since the death penalty could only be used after a guilty verdict at trial and not after a guilty plea.”

But, regardless of state policy, the Marathon bombing is a federal trial – making capital punishment an option.

In Boston, it’s not a popular option, though. A recent WBUR poll found that “only 31 percent of Boston area residents said they support the death penalty for Tsarnaev.”

Bill and Denise Richard, parents of the bombing’s youngest victim penned a compelling op-ed for the Boston Globe: “to end the anguish, drop the death penalty,” they wrote.

And they are not alone in speaking out in opposition to the death penalty. Jessica Kensky and Patrick Downes, who both lost limbs in the blast, issued a joint statement on the topic, writing, “If there is anyone who deserves the ultimate punishment, it is the defendant. However, we must overcome the impulse for vengeance.”

So no, death is not popular.

And given that the jury needs to be unanimous in its call for the death penalty, that result seems unlikely.

But is that enough?

Should those of us who fancy ourselves New England liberals, who pride ourselves on our compassion and informed rationality – should we breath a sigh of relief if the Tsarnaev verdict comes back: LIFE IN PRISON.

Is that enough to calm our restless spirits? To convince ourselves that while Tsarnaev may be a monster, we are not monster enough to kill him.

Life in prison. A just sentence for a 21-year-old kid who killed four people and wounded dozens of others.

Or is it?

160,000 people are currently serving life sentences in the United States, including about 50,000 who have no possibility for parole.

The Other Death Penalty Project argues that “a sentence of life without the possibility of parole is a death sentence. Worse, it is a long, slow, dissipating death sentence without any of the legal or administrative safeguards rightly awarded to those condemned to the traditional forms of execution.”

The ACLU of Northern California states that “life in prison without the possibility of parole is swift, severe, and certain punishment.”

Mind you, that’s an argument for why life sentences should replace the death penalty. The death penalty is outdated – even barbaric by some standards. Life without the possibility of parole is cleaner, neater.

A death sentence comes with “years of mandatory appeals that often result in reversal” while life sentences “receive no special consideration on appeal, which limits the possibility they will be reduced or reversed.”

And best, yet, a life sentence allows us to pat ourselves on the back for a job well done: our judgement was harsh but humane.

Our prisoner will get no appeals while he lives in extreme isolation – cramped in a 7 x 9 cell and fed through a slot in the solid steel door.

But at least he will have his life. We are progressive after all.

There is something wrong with this dynamic.

I’m not sure what to recommend in the Tsarnaev trial – whether life or death is ultimately a worse fate.

But more broadly we need to rethink our options. We need to recognize the deep, systemic failures of our prison system and identify new strategies and options for reparation and justice. If we want to be harsh, we can be harsh, but let’s be honest about what we are and what we want from our punishments.

After all, if we’re quibbling over whether someone should die slowly or die quickly – we’re hardly arguing about anything at all.

Waiting for White America

Posted on April 14, 2015 by Sarah Shugars

There’s this great word that has surfaced in recent years: Columbusing.

As defined by Urban Dictionary, Columbusing is “when white people claim they have invented/discovered something that has been around for years, decades, even centuries.”

I’ve mostly heard the phrase applied to elements of cultural identity. White people have Columbused jazz, blues, Motown and rap.

White people have Columbused cornrows. twerking, The Harlem Shake, and even empanadas – I mean, hand pies. It seems there is no end to the list of items that have been Columbused.

And if cultural appropriation wasn’t enough, I’ve been reflecting on another element of Columbusing – outrage over injustice.

In reading Doug McAdam’s Freedom Summer, I’ve been struck by the extent to which the whole summer was orchestrated by SNCC not only as a wake up call to white America, but as a mechanism for giving white America a stake in the fight.

In more generous terms, one could argue that in any social movement a small group of people tries to bring their message to a large group of people. But let’s be real: in this case the “small group of people” was a large number of southern blacks who had been organizing for over a decade and the “large group of people” was an elite group of white northerners who considered themselves liberal.

When these elite, white students descended on Mississippi for the summer, they were shocked by the reality they found there. They were shocked by the physical abuse, the emotional harassment, and the downright disregard for the law. Their parents were shocked by the letters home. The media was shocked at the experience of these white kids.

After over a decade of black organizing, white Americans came to Mississippi and discovered our country had a race problem. They Columbused the hell out of that shit.

That was in 1964. The dawn of the civil rights movement.

Of course it dawned long before that, but for white America, 1964 was watershed.I find this particularly interesting now, given the social context we find ourselves in.

With black deaths nightly on the television, white America is again starting to realize there might be something to this discrimination issue.

I’ve seen so many articles about what white America should do, how to talk to white Americans about race, why white Americans shut down when issues are raised.

White Americans should be a part of the conversation, of course, just as all people should be part of the conversation. As someone who is white myself, it probably makes a lot of sense for me personally to talk to other white Americans, to help them join this conversation.

But – I just can’t shake the feeling that we’re a nation just waiting for the majority of white America to Columbus social justice. Because once white Americans Columbus social justice, then we can have a real conversation, then we can have real change.

And that’s kind of messed up.

White people need to lead the change because white people are the ones with the most power. But what we really need to do is to shift power structures – to change who has the right to voice a concern and who is listened to when they speak.

I don’t know how we do that. I don’t know how I do that – as a white girl who is almost certainly Columbusing this idea from somewhere. But let’s work on that.

Let’s bring everyone into the conversation, yes, let’s make everyone part of the change.

But let’s not wait for the majority of white Americans to discover we have a racial problem before we do anything about it.

The change should have come decades ago.

Walter Scott

Posted on April 8, 2015 by Sarah Shugars

I watched a man die this morning.

Over and over again, on repeat.

Over and over again, Walter Scott fled down the lush, green path. It looked like a fine place to go for a jog on a nice summer day. Over and over again, Scott was shot in the back by Charleston police officer Michael Slager. Eight times.

Over and over again, Scott fell to the ground.

They showed the video 8 times in 5 minutes on the morning news. Over and over.

I was surprised. I don’t like to watch men die.

Well, not real people, anyway. I’m not too squeamish about fictional death. I’m glad Game of Thrones finally stepped it’s game in Season 4. After reading the books, I was frankly a little disappointed by the initial lack of bloodshed.

But I don’t need to watch a real person die.

They showed the video twice as part of the opening credits. No warning that it might be disturbing or graphic.

Almost nonchalantly, they showed a man die.

I want to believe they repetitively aired the video hoping the shock of it would lead to positive change.

Maybe there are some people still clinging to the idea that we’re in a post-racial society. Who haven’t been convinced by the tragedies of Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and too many brown bodies left bleeding in our streets.

Maybe the shock of this video – Walter Scott dying over and over and over again – maybe that will wake them up.

But I kept thinking – would the news act the same way if it was someone else being shot?

Would they show a white woman being shot in the back and over and over again? With no warning that it might be disturbing?

I’m not sure they would.

No, this video they were treating a little too much like entertainment. As if another black body isn’t much to get disturbed about.

As if we were watching a fictional man die.

Of course, the fact there there is video footage has been of remarkable importance to this case.

Slager initially reported that he had shot Scott in self-defense, fearing for his life because the man had taken his stun gun.

The video, taken by a bystander, seems to be the only reason the officer was eventually charged with murder.

People keep asking, what would the story have been if there hadn’t been video? What would the outcome have been if there hadn’t been video?

They ask, but of course, we all know.

In a battle between the word of a cop and the word of a dead man, the cop always wins.

Because dead men tell no tales and a dead witness is a silent witness and black men keep dying over and over and over.

On repeat.

As if we were watching fictional men die.

Privilege and Social Change

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Sarah Shugars

I’ve been reading Doug McAdam’s seminal book Freedom Summer. I’m a little less than halfway through it, but already it’s been a compelling read.

McAdam had initially set out to study the network of activists engaged in the major struggles of the 60s. He knew anecdotally that many of the white leaders known for organizing against the war or for women’s liberation had their roots in the civil rights movement, but the Standford sociologist wanted to understand this connection more systematically.

He had hoped to find a list of the white Northerners who had traveled to Mississippi in 1964 to register black voters for the Freedom Summer project. From this list, he would be able to identify which participants went on to lead other social movements and explore what had compelled this further action.

But he didn’t find a list of participants.

He found something better.

At the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center in Atlanta, while sifting through miscellaneous materials on the Summer Project, McAdam stumbled across something remarkable: “there, nicely organized and cataloged, were the original five page applications filled out by the volunteers in advance of the summer.”

That trove included applications of those who were rejected, those who were accepted but who never-showed up, and applications of those who ultimately spent their summer in Mississippi.

He spent the next six years comparing at the characteristics of the volunteers and no-shows, exploring the experience of the summer, and examining the impact of that summer experience.

I haven’t gotten to the longitudinal part of his work yet, but I’ve been very struck by his description of the volunteers going into the summer.

The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the primary organizer of the summer made some intentional choices about recruitment. They reached out heavily to students at ivy-league and prestigious universities. They looked for volunteers who could pay their own way and support themselves for the summer.

The sensibilities of the time may have been shifting, but the attitudes of the volunteers were distinctive. As McAdam writes:

Academically, they numbered among “the best and the brightest” of their generation, both in the levels of education they had obtained and the prestige of the colleges and universities they were attending. Reflecting on their privileged class backgrounds as much as the prevailing mood of the era, the volunteers held to an enormously idealistic and optimistic view of the world. More importantly, perhaps, they shared a sense of efficacy about their own actions. The arrogance of youth and the privileges of class combined with the mood of the era to give the volunteers an inflated sense of their own specialness and generational potency.

I was struck by how much this description fits the often stereotypical view of Millennials. They are optimists who think change is possible. They are self-important and think they are special.

In the Freedom Summer volunteers, these elements combined for a remarkable effect: young people who thoroughly believed they were special enough to undo centuries of racism.

And perhaps the remarkable thing is that they were not wrong.

Well, not entirely wrong. There is plenty more work to do, plenty of racism still thriving in this country, but while we still have far to go – I think the Freedom Summer volunteers did accomplish something.

We could argue about just how much affect they had, but on the whole, I would say, they bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice.

Perhaps today’s young people could be just as remarkable.

But there’s something deeply unsettling and ironic about the impact of Freedom Summer.

The SNCC leaders knew it all along:

Nobody cared when they fished black bodies out of the river. But when America’s white sons and daughters were at risk, America paid attention.

The summer served to gain some ground in the civil rights movement, but it also served to reinforce the deep, systemic injustices of our country.

A summer of action from naïve whites affected more change than decades of black leadership.

The summer proved what SNCC leaders knew all too well: blacks in Mississippi really were powerless and these young, elite Northerners had good cause to be confident in their own efficacy.

Yes, it was black leaders who planned, designed and implemented Freedom Summer. It was black leaders who taught organizing and trained volunteers in effecting change. It was black leaders who put themselves most at risk.

But ultimately, it was the whiteness of the young volunteers that made the biggest impact.

I can’t imagine the dilemma the SNCC leaders were in. They knew what they were getting into going into the summer – they had some great debates about whether recruiting white northerners was the best strategy. But ultimately, they decided, attracting the privileged youth of white America was the best move they could make.

And those young people brought plenty of paternalism with them. As McAdam describes, “for their part, a good many of the volunteers brought a kind of “missionary” attitude to the project that only aggravated existing tensions. Hints of paternalism and insensitivity show up with great frequency in the volunteer’s letters and journals.”

Perhaps this could not be avoided. The volunteers were shaped by a racialized America as well.

In another comment that rings true of today McAdam says the volunteers “were not to much color-blind as supremely desirous of appearing color-blind.”

With the 50th anniversary of Freedom Summer taking place last year, there’s been lots of talk – do we need another Freedom Summer?

Clearly, we need to do something. Black men and women are killed every day. Many live lives markedly different from their white peers. The racism and injustice that’s been rampant in this country is at the fore of our national consciousness, and for the first time in a long while it feels like something could change for the better.

And we should all fight for that change.

But invoking Freedom Summer we should be mindful.

Is the civil rights movement of today one where young, privileged, white people will continue to take their place as the face of a moment? Where those heirs to to power will deign to use their power for good – rather than disrupt those systems of power altogether?

It’s too early to say.

One of the most exciting things about Black Lives Matter has been the emergence of young, black leaders. It’s not their job to fight alone, but it is their place to lead.

For those of us in white America, the legacy of Freedom Summer should be an important reminder: change can happen, but for change to last – for systemic change to occur – it is not enough for us to use our privileged to shape our world. We must check our privilege and support the impressive black leaders among us.

They are the true face of change.

The Politics of Public Restrooms

Posted on April 2, 2015 by Sarah Shugars

There’s something deeply political about public restrooms.

First, as the name implies, these spaces are public. Private, perhaps, once inside, the public restroom is inherently part of the public sphere.

Truly, they are shared spaces.

At some point I will post a treatise praising co-created wall art in public restrooms – commonly referred to as graffiti – but today I’d actually like to take the conversation in a different direction.

As my mother recently informed me, the first public women’s restroom in Britain were opened in 1909 as part of the revolutionary Selfridges department store in London.

To get a sense of that in time, let’s back up to get a broader history of public restrooms in Western culture.

As it turns out, the bodily functions which inspire restrooms have been an element of human nature for quite some time. The Romans, who pioneered architectural innovations such as aqueducts and roads, are often credited with the public restroom as well – a feature that could be found in many Roman baths.

But the modern public toilet revolution really began in the early 19th century. Paris had public restrooms as early as 1820. London installed it’s first flushing public toilet in 1852.

That’s right – London had public toilets by 1852, but the first restroom allowing women wasn’t opened until 1909.

As my mother put it, “Before that, if a woman had to use the restroom – she would just go home.”

I’m not sure that’s entirely accurately – that is, I’m not sure how much women were wandering around town before then. Also, in 1852 I imagine it would be challenging for a woman to go to the bathroom by themselves – due to the layers and complexity of a Victorian woman’s clothing.

By 1909 women’s fashion was changing, public attitudes towards women were changing, and a young entrepreneur named Harry Gordon Selfridge introduced a new department store concept. One that included “entertainment, restaurants and services. Customers were invited to spend the day inside at their leisure and buy at their pleasure.”

And those shopping women clearly needed somewhere to pee.

Fast forward another 100 years and we finally have gender parity in restroom availability.

But not really.

We have men’s rooms and we have women’s rooms.

And anyone who doesn’t identify with one of those categories – or who identifies with a category other than what strangers judge them to be – has a serious problem.

For example, a proposed bill in Florida would prevent transgender Floridians from using the restroom of their choice.

And the brilliant hashtag #IJustNeedToPee details the struggles people in the trans community face every day as they are shunned from public restrooms.

Like the women of 1850, if the need to use the restroom – they just have to go home, I suppose.

So public restrooms say a lot about us as a culture – how we define gender, how we expect identified genders to act. Not to mention how we feel about race and cross-cultural interaction.

It seems like such a small thing, so simple, so innocuous – but nothing says you’re not welcome to stay like the lack of a restroom you are welcomed to use.

So lets make public restrooms truly accessible to all members of the public – of all genders, gender identities, and physical abilities.

Let’s have the public in public restroom truly mean its for everyone – not just some segment of the population deemed worthy for such a throne.