Wherever there is injustice against a group of people, there's a movement that seeks to justify their mistreatment. This is how cruelty toward Black people and other marginalized groups — whether racial, ethnic, or otherwise — becomes a normalized part of society. As Ta-Nehisi Coates wrote in his memoir, The Message, "It may seem strange that people who have already attained a position of power through violence invest so much time in justifying their plunder with words. But even plunderers are human beings whose violent ambitions must contend with the guilt that gnaws at them when they meet the eyes of their victims. And so a story must be told, one that raises a wall between themselves and those they seek to throttle and rob." Reflecting on these words during Black August, a month when our community honors Black political prisoners, it's only fitting that we should try to chisel through this barrier.
Black people have faced disproportionate punishment in our nation's criminal justice system. It's a social problem that began during chattel slavery, as maintaining a race-based system of oppression meant giving patrols the authority to use violence to capture runaways. Their mistreatment has continued into the modern era, as Black people are the most likely to face violence during arrest and tend to receive longer sentences than their white counterparts. One example of this system's racial inequality is that Black people are the most likely to be held in solitary confinement. Researchers noted this "severe form of incarceration [is] closely associated with long-lasting psychological harm and poor post-release outcomes." At a United Nations Open Assembly, Juan E. Méndez urged the United States government to abolish the use of solitary confinement, given the "severe mental pain or suffering” caused by its use. "During pre-trial detention, indefinitely, prolonged, on juveniles or persons with mental disabilities, it can amount to cruel, inhumane, or degrading treatment or punishment and even torture.”
As society conditions individuals to see Black people as inherently criminal, many assume they deserve punishment. As a result, there seems to be less outrage when they are subjected to mistreatment, including when prisons use tactics such as solitary confinement, which human rights experts consider a form of torture. To combat apathy, we must reflect on the lives of those marred by these policies. Consider, for example, the Angola Three: Robert Hillary King, Albert Woodfox, and Herman Wallace, Black men who endured decades in closed cell restriction, more commonly known as solitary confinement. Despite claiming their innocence, authorities kept each of these men in a six-by-nine cell, which "contained a bunk, toilet, sink, compact metal table, and desk." Their only break from isolation was access to the shower. They could not watch television, have visitors, or read legal texts. Despite these brutal conditions, these men became prominent leaders inside the prison walls. As members of the Black Panther Party, they advocated for unity among prisoners and for criminal justice reform to improve conditions.
Wallace, imprisoned after a bank robbery conviction, and Woodfox, convicted of armed robbery, entered a racially segregated prison system in the early 1970s. They served their time at Angola, a Louisiana plantation turned into a state penitentiary. Like many prisons across the country, Black people are overrepresented among those incarcerated there. Authorities force some of them to work under harsh conditions, often mistreating Black inmates. Along with Renald Ailsworthy, the two men "formed the first prison chapter of the BPP at Angola as a means of inspiring self-pride." Woodfox explained they "turned our tiers into a community," and showed that "unity made all of us stronger." Their time in solitary confinement began after some inmates assaulted corrections officer Brent Miller in 1972. Authorities blamed Wallace and Woodfox, using the alleged crime to justify cruel restrictions. There were irregularities in the case, as authorities did not test the blood or fingerprints found at the scene. Despite the lack of forensic evidence, a jury sentenced each Black man to life in prison.
Robert Hillary King, the third man of the trio, was incarcerated following an armed robbery conviction in 1971. Despite his not being at Angola at the time of the correction officer's assault, officials transferred him to closed cell restriction because of a "pending investigation," which persisted throughout his twenty-nine-year solitary confinement. A few years later, guards accused King of killing another inmate during their brief shower break, Grady Brewer, in 1974. Again, without forensic evidence, prosecutors managed to secure a conviction. "The Angola Three, who always maintained their innocence, were victims of unconstitutional trials and repeated reversals," Allen-Bell wrote in 64 Parishes. Deprived of a speedy trial and effective counsel, they became victims of "jury and grand jury discrimination," and even had "perjured testimony," used against them. To justify decades of solitary confinement, authorities used wrongful convictions as the brick and mortar of their arguments.
Throughout their incarceration, these men upheld the ideology of the Black Panther Party, fostering unity. Woodfox explained how they transformed "cells meant to be death chambers and insane asylums" into "halls of debate and schools of philosophy, history, and economics." Their self-advocacy exposed the injustices that the system normalized. The blatant injustices at the heart of their cases drew attention from civil and human rights activists outside of the Angola prison system. For example, Malik Rahim, a party member, organized a formal support committee in 1997 for the three men, inspired by the prison abolitionist movement. Amnesty International pointed out that, collectively, these three Black men served over 100 years in solitary confinement, and urged Louisiana authorities to end this barbaric practice. King, released in 2001, served a total of thirty-one years, twenty-nine in closed-cell restriction. In 2013, Wallace was released after forty-one years in closed-cell restriction; he died four days later from liver cancer. That same year, Woodfox was released after forty-five years in prison, with forty-three in closed-cell restriction. In 2022, he died of complications related to COVID-19, having survived the longest sentence in isolation at the time.
The Angola Three should be remembered. Their case illustrates the discrimination Black people face within the criminal justice system. The racism they endure doesn't end at their arrest or even their trial. Given that they are the most likely to be kept in solitary confinement, race influences one's treatment behind prison walls. Their story is one of resistance. Despite the personal injustices they faced, these men worked to improve conditions for incarcerated individuals. They became leaders of "a 45-day hunger strike that ended the dehumanizing practice of serving meals under the cell door." As a result, those in confinement now receive food through a slit in the door at waist level. It may seem like a minor change, but it honors the human dignity of those living in these conditions. Additionally, the Angola Three raised awareness about sexual assault in prison and highlighted the unfair practice of automatic strip searches, which allowed corrections officers to perform invasive examinations. Thanks to their advocacy, there are now higher standards for officers when conducting these searches.
Despite the best efforts of incarcerated and free activists, injustices persist at Angola as well as other prisons throughout the country. One investigation revealed there's been an "increase in the use of solitary confinement," which "concentrated among Black young adults." And a loophole in the 13th Amendment permits involuntary servitude as punishment for crime in fifteen states, including Louisiana. For those imprisoned at Angola, this is cruel irony, as some of their enslaved ancestors had to harvest crops on the same fields. One lawsuit filed by inmates last year aims to end their work on farm lines "in brutal heat.” It's one of the many challenges inmates have made over the years to improve conditions. In America, there seems to be a wall between those causing harm and those enduring it. It's a barrier maintained through legitimizing myths, such as one that suggests Black people are dangerous and necessitate harsh punishments. Such beliefs pave the way for racially oppressive policies.
Why are Black people generally held in solitary confinement for longer? The same reason they are stopped, frisked, arrested, and assaulted by officers at a higher rate than other groups — racism is rampant in this country. Seriously, lift a stone and you will find it. Until we face that uncomfortable truth, examine systems that contribute to racially disparate outcomes, racial injustices will persist, depriving Black people of equal treatment. "Burl Cain, the former warden of Angola, repeatedly said in 2008 and 2009 that Woodfox and Wallace had to be held in C.C.R. because they subscribed to "Black Pantherism." In that respect, these men were political prisoners, held in solitary confinement because they adopted a pro-black ideology. Sadly, their experience is part of a broader pattern of punishment, in which Black people face punishment for resisting an oppressive system.
In his memoir, Albert Woodfox wrote, "We need to admit to, confront, and change the racism in the American justice system that decides who is stopped by police, who is arrested, who is searched, who is charged, who is prosecuted, and who isn't, as well as look at who receives longer sentences and why and demand a fair and equal system. Racism in police departments and in courtrooms is not a secret. It's been proved. Racism occurs at every level of the judicial process, from people of color being disproportionately stopped by police (racial profiling) to their being sentenced.”
This post originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of Allison Gaines' work on Medium.