Get the latest Syracuse news delivered right to your inbox.
Subscribe to our newsletter here.

Michelle Alexander, author of “The New Jim Crow” states in the chapter titled “The Fire This Time,” about hearing from those who are incarcerated: 

“Those of us who hope to be their allies should not be surprised, if and when this day comes, that when those who have been locked up and locked out finally have the chance to speak and truly be heard, what we hear is rage. The rage may frighten us; it may remind us of riots, uprisings, and buildings aflame. We may be tempted to control it or douse it with buckets of doubt, dismay, and disbelief. 

But we should do no such thing. Instead, when a young man who was born in the ghetto and who knows little of life beyond the walls of his prison cell and the invisible cage that has become his life, turns to us in bewilderment and rage, we should do nothing more than look him in the eye and tell him the truth.” 

The question is: What is that truth? 

That our own mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandparents voted on the same crime bills that encaged us.

What is that truth? 

That, at our arraignments on criminal charges, the judge, assigned counsel, as well as the district attorney, knew that there was a lack of probable cause to detain us, yet they still held us captive.

What is that truth? 

That the district attorneys maliciously abused their authority throughout the grand jury proceeding to obtain an indictment.

What is that truth? 

That our assigned counsels, along with our district attorneys, played Russian roulette with our lives on plea deals that were so outrageously excessive. 

What is that truth? 

That the commissioners of jurors continue to use discriminatory practices when summoning a jury pool.

What is that truth? 

That the trial judges, assigned counsels and district attorneys treat our cases like another episode of “Law and Order.” 

By the time masks arrived, a memorandum was issued mandating that they be worn. By guards as well as prisoners. The prisoners got the memo. The majority of the guards didn’t care.

A facility’s operations are a reflection of its administration. Its superintendents, deputy of programs, deputy of mental health, deputy of administration, deputy of security. 

So much more could have been done to accommodate the prisoners. 

Take, for example, our shower situation. Every gallery has two. No one is allowed to utilize them, with the exception of porters. When you ask a guard for a shower, they respond by saying, 

“They don’t pay me to do that.” 

At recreation, there are well over 100 prisoners in the yard. With the new “restrictions,” showers are limited to five people. With one hour of recreation, you can estimate how many won’t shower!

One day, I couldn’t help myself and stopped a guard to ask a question. “Set aside the blue and the green for a moment. Human to human. Do you think what we are being provided with, is adequate?”

“Hey man, I’m just here to get a check,” he said. The majority of the guards share that perspective. It is what it is! 

If a facility’s operations are a reflection of its administration, what is currently going on since the pandemic began leaves prisoners across the state in danger of negligence. 

Reporting live from the other side of America.

Cliff Graham is a Syracuse resident currently incarcerated at Auburn Correctional Facility. He is serving a 12-year sentence.

Published on May 10, 2021 at 9:20 pm