The
premise of Mariame Kaba’s idea, which she tweeted
on New Year’s Eve with the hashtag #FreeThePeople, was
simple — donate the price of one drink to a local
bail fund, organizations that raise money and post bail for
people who would otherwise languish in jail until their day in court.
Organizers
took up the call to #FreethePeople. Chicago organizer Kelly Hayes
reached out to others to create memes to circulate and keep momentum
going. She and Kaba also compiled fact sheets about cash bail and its
consequences. “We wanted to use this as an opportunity for
education, not just to raise money,” Kaba explained.
Their
efforts took off and, in one day, raised over $233,000 for at least
14 local bail funds across the country. Hundreds of people
participated, tweeting and retweeting the calls, creating graphics
for the event or tweeting the amount they donated as a way to
encourage others to do the same. Some used the hashtag to educate
about how cash bail works — and its devastating consequences. Those
thousands of dollars are now enabling them to post bail for hundreds
of people.
In
courtrooms nationwide, when a person first appears in court after
arrest, the judge has the option of releasing them, jailing them
until trial or setting bail. The reasoning behind bail is not because
the person is deemed a risk to themselves or their communities.
Instead, the reasoning is based on money — by paying a certain
amount, that person is more likely to return for subsequent court
dates. If they fail to show up, they forfeit that money.
In
practice, however, bail sets up a two-tiered system for the 12
million people arrested each year: those who can afford to pay bail
can go home to await their day in court. Those who cannot —
approximately 450,000
people on any given day — stay behind bars, making
up two-thirds
of the jail population.
In
Massachusetts, for example, between 77
and 88 percent of women remained in jails (and in the state
prison’s overcrowded Awaiting Trial Unit) because they and their
families could not afford to post bail amounts of $2,000 or less. In
New York City, approximately 85 percent of people held at Rikers
Island, the island-jail complex notorious for its culture of
violence, are still awaiting their day in court.
The
consequences of not being able to afford bail extend beyond days
lost. Though technically innocent until proven guilty, while waiting
in jail, people often lose their jobs, homes, access to social
services and child custody. Moreover, those languishing behind bars
are more likely to plead guilty as a way to escape the often-hellish
conditions of local jails. People who refuse to plead guilty can
spend years in jail and suffer tremendous violence during that time.
Just
look at Kalief Browder, the teenager who refused to plead guilty to
stealing a backpack and spent three years at Rikers Island, where he
was assaulted by both staff and other teens. After three years, the
prosecutor finally dropped the charges, but the violence and trauma
he suffered at Rikers continued to haunt him. Two years later, he
committed suicide. Kalief’s story is only unusual in that it’s
well-known; countless others remain in similarly hellish conditions.
The
inequalities inherent in bail — and its role in enabling mass
incarceration — have gained critical attention in recent years. In
various cities, organizers have created bail funds, which are
revolving funds that post bail for those who cannot otherwise afford
freedom. Once that person’s case is completed, the courts return
the money (minus any fees) and bail fund organizers use it to buy
someone else’s freedom.
#FreethePeople
was the latest in several mass fundraisers around bail in 2017. In
the weeks leading up to Mother’s Day, organizers launched Mamas’
Bailout Day, raising over $1 million to post bail for at least
106 black mothers in time for the holiday. Their efforts weren’t
limited to people who were biological mothers, but extended those who
were embraced as mother figures by people in their communities. They
also connectedpeople
to support services and resources to ensure that they can take care
of themselves and their families. For Father’s Day, Gay Pride,
Juneteenth and Black August, another 82 people were bailed out.
In
December, the Massachusetts
Bail Fund and Black
Lives Matter Cambridgelaunched a holiday
bailout.
Each week, organizers sat in courtrooms or visited local
jails to identify and post bail amounts of less than $500 for people
who would otherwise remain in jail. That month, they bailed out 78
people in the Boston area alone.
But
buying freedom for 78 people isn’t cheap. Atara Rich-Shea of the
Massachusetts Bail Fund noted that, altogether, those bails cost
$41,591 and credits a grant from National Bailout, a coalition of
organizations, for allowing them to post bail for 24 more people than
they would have been able to otherwise. In Massachusetts, each bail
is accompanied by a $40 fee, which is not refunded.
Among
them was a pregnant woman held in the state prison’s Awaiting Trial
Unit. The organizer who posted her bail recounted that, before the
two parted ways, the woman
told her “how scared she was for her and her baby’s
safety. And also how impossible it is to get proper sleep on a prison
bed. She was so relieved to be out.”
In
Connecticut, organizers with the Connecticut
Bail Fund and the Immigrant
Bail Fund also held a holiday bailout, freeing 29 people
from local adult jails, youth detention and immigration detention.
The amounts that they posted varied wildly. Co-founder Brett Davidson
recalled posting a $50 bail for a man who did not have phone
numbers of friends or family who could post his bond; the
fund also posted $5,000 for a woman arrested for
sex work. Connecticut does not charge a fee for posting bail, so all
of the money is eventually returned to each bail fund.
#FreethePeople
raised $26,060 for the Massachusetts Bail Fund. Combined with a
matching grant for funds raised in the last two weeks of December,
the Bail Fund now has $59,060, an amount that will allow them to free
at least 100 people. #FreethePeople raised $2,127 for the Connecticut
Bail Fund and another $4,312 for the Immigrant Bail Fund. Davidson
noted that the latter funds went towards a $10,000 immigration bond
in early January.
Bail
fund organizers are not only working to free people from jail, but
also fighting to end cash bail altogether. In some places, they are
beginning to see results. Organizers with the Chicago Community Bond
Fund, of which Kaba is an advisory member, have pushed for court
interventions and worked with legislators on bills
to change bail laws. In July 2017, in response to a lawsuit, a
judge issued General Order 18.A,
a rule requiring
that all bails in Chicago’s Cook County must be affordable. The
order applies only to bails set after that decision and organizers
have noted that not all judges have been adhering to the new rule.
Nonetheless, the Cook County
Jail has had 1,500 fewer prisoners since the ruling took
effect in September.
In
Connecticut, grassroots organizing has been slower. Davidson notes
efforts among policy makers to replace cash bail with risk
assessment, which replaces one flawed system with another. Many of
the people bailed out of local jails are housing unstable or
homeless, thus making them more vulnerable to police contact.
“For
us, it’s a challenge to even start the conversation about abolition
and the cash bail system because most of the people we’re bonding
out, it’s not a familiar concept,” he said. “We’re trying to
create a conversation less about replacing the bail system with risk
assessment and more about pretrial decarceration. That’s a longer
process, to have those conversations and do the necessary organizing
in the community.”
“People
are organizing and not just giving their money in a charity way that
actually reinforces the current system,” Kaba reflected. “It’s
not just the actual bailing out, but the bailing out is
super-important because, as we know, the cascading effects on
people’s lives cannot be underestimated or minimized.”
>> The article above was written by Victoria Law, and is reprinted from In These Times.
1 comment:
I wonder if anyone in the Twin Ports region with help from Ex-incarcerated People Organizing can fight this and Wisconsin censorship?
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