Thursday, March 28

Rahsaan Thomas, the host of Ear Hustle, on pardon and life after prison: “I want to tell our stories” | american prisons


RAhsaan “New York” Thomas, the acclaimed journalist who co-host of the Ear Hustle podcast From inside San Quentin prison, he received clemency this month, prompting celebrations from listeners and supporters across the country.

But it could be months, or years, before he walks free.

California Governor Gavin Newsom awarded Thomas a commutation for his sentence of 55 years to life, acknowledging the “work he has done… to transform himself.” In addition to co-producing and co-host Pulitzer Prize-nominated showman Thomas, 51, writes for the San Quentin Newsthe marshall project Y Current; chairs a chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists; mentors youth; co-founded a non-profit organization to imprisoned writers; Y managed a documentary short from Sundance.

Switching your prayer on second-degree murder and related charges allows Thomas to appear for the first time before the parole board, which will then decide if he is “fit” for release. But it could be months before his hearing date, and if he is denied parole, as is the case with most people incarcerated after their first board appearance, it could be more than a year before he gets another one. chance.

man with headphones speaking into a microphone
In addition to being a podcast host, writer, and youth mentor, Thomas is also a co-founder of a nonprofit prison. Photograph: Courtesy of Ear Hustle

The uncertainty doesn’t stop Thomas from planning ambitious plans for life after incarceration. The New York native recently spoke to The Guardian by phone about his 21 years behind bars, his career goals and what he’s learned about the system. The conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Congratulations on the news. What was your reaction when you received the call?

He was happy, of course, and proud. It is a great honor for the Governor to recognize that you are a different person today than you were 20 years ago. And I was relieved. Until my sentence was commuted, I had no path to freedom. Freedom was something hypothetical, with changes in the law that could happen one day. But now the clock starts for my freedom. Now I have to schedule a hearing with the parole board. I don’t know if I’ll do the first one, but at least I’ll be able to talk about it. And if they deny me, I’ll go a couple of years later and try again, and keep trying until I get out. For a guy like me in prison with all these [Covid] locks, the sooner the better. It is a race against the next variant of Covid.

How do you feel about appearing before the parole board?

I am grateful for this opportunity that I did not have before, but I also recognize that it will be difficult. You have to talk about the worst thing you’ve ever done and all your trauma. I know a lot of great people who are out [of prison] now, but the board did not see its greatness at its first hearing. You can get nervous and blow your answers. Although I’m not sure I’ll make it the first time, I think I’ll make it the second time and I hope to be home in 2025. In the meantime I’ll keep making Ear Hustle, I’ll keep writing. and keep improving.

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The Pulitzer Prize finalist received a pardon from California Governor Gavin Newsom this month.
The Pulitzer Prize finalist received a pardon from California Governor Gavin Newsom this month. Photograph: Courtesy of UnCommon Law

I know the parole hearing is a long process, but I would love to know What will be your general message for the meeting?

I think the main thing is that I am a different person, and the person I am today is an asset to the community. The debt I owe, I could never pay. But I’m not going to pay it in jail. Prison was a place to put me to punish me. But now, costs $106,000 a year [to incarcerate me] – that is money taken away from schools and Covid relief. And I think I am a person who can bring violence abroad. I am a person who is making a difference in this world and I just want the opportunity to pay taxes and give back to society.

I don’t know how far you have thought, but what are your plans for your first years?

I hope to get home in time for Ear Hustle to still be there, to get a job. I am also part of a program called squires where I counsel at-risk youth. I want to continue that abroad and be on the front line. That’s my way of staying grounded at work and what’s going on in the community, so I can try to find solutions.

But the most important thing I want to do is write books. I am writing stories that take on the challenges of [prison abolition organizer and writer] Mariame Kaba who wrote a book called We Do This Till We Get Free: Abolitionist Organizing and Transformative Justice. It talks about how people can’t imagine what change looks like, because they’ve never seen it before. They cannot imagine a world without prisons, because there are people who have done really bad things and will do it again if they are released. So how do we change that behavior? How do we stop these cycles of violence?

That’s great, how have you been thinking about solutions?

I am writing books that imagine these solutions, and they are real. They’re real to me, because I’m in San Quentin, a prison that was once notorious and very dangerous, and turned into one of the nicest places I’ve ever been, where Famous come hang out [with arts, education and other programs that bring people in from the outside]. I’ve seen the impact of therapy, and having a connection to the community, feeling like you’re part of this society, and not an outcast who can’t even vote, like a refugee in your own country, being connected to a society that cares. for you and has support for you, and what that looks like, and how that helps and how that changes people. If we can do that in a prison, why can’t we do it in our neighborhoods? How can we change the conditions so that you don’t have to get these services after you’re incarcerated, after someone has been harmed and you can’t repair that harm, ever? I want to tell those stories.

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Filmmaker Ken Burns walks with Thomas at San Quentin State Prison in California.
Filmmaker Ken Burns walks with Thomas at San Quentin State Prison in California. Photograph: Eric Risberg/AP

It seems that the San Quentin community and your work with Ear Hustle have really changed you.

It’s a life changer. When I was 19 years old, I went to prison for two years and I made the decision to do the right thing when I got home, and I did it at first. But my trauma was triggered. I got stressed about the poverty, the injustices with my little brother, all these things and I relapsed and went back to my old ways. My old ways never went away because I never dealt with my trauma and never healed. At San Quentin, I not only found a trade that I love, but I met all these amazing people and community members. Growing [in Brownsville in Brooklyn], lived in a segregated neighborhood with all black and Puerto Rican people and limited resources. I felt that nobody cared about me, that the world was unfair and that the laws were designed for me to fail. I didn’t feel an obligation to society, because I felt that society didn’t care about me.

I don’t feel like that anymore. I learned why my neighborhood was so messy, which is bigger than just the people and the trauma. That it is systemic, it is what has been done to us for generations. I was also trying to be a writer for 13 years and it didn’t really start to emerge until I got to San Quentin. They are the worst conditions, but it is the best prison for opportunities. I want that opportunity to exist in Brownsville, in Oakland, in Los Angeles. I want it to be a before, not an after.

What do you want the public to know about other people behind bars like you who may not have the same chance to come home?

I will go home with a list of names of people who I feel have been ignored or forgotten. I have a small campaign now in FreeRahsaan.com, with t-shirts to raise money, and when I get home I want to keep the momentum going. There’s a guy I know who’s already turned 30 because of the three strikes law. It was a horrible crime, but the person she is today, I know it will never happen again. I also created this program called avenue of empowerment [for incarcerated writers and artists] to help people build the right careers in prison and return home to a society that is ready for them with open arms.

I am creating the opportunity that I had at San Quentin the best way I can for people in other prisons. These people exist for the world, because their writing is out there, they’re making these connections, these editors know them. So if they’re trying to prove their case to a governor, they’ll have that kind of support that I have, because they’re known and part of society, and they’re not behind a wall, hidden and invisible.

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There is a lot of public attention on his case. What message do you want to share with your followers?

I can never say I deserve freedom. I can only say that it no longer makes sense for me to be here. People say I earned it and ‘good job,’ and I just want people to know that hypocrisy earn it. There is nothing I can do to make up for what I did, it is impossible. I can’t bring this person back. I don’t say his name, without the family’s permission, but I try to honor him by making amends. Y I can at least pay society better, or do my best to pay off an unpayable debt.

An aerial view of San Quentin State Prison in California.
An aerial view of San Quentin State Prison in California. Photograph: Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

And for other people who are incarcerated, I say keep up the good work. Don’t give in to despair. I was sentenced from 55 to life, and there was no reason to be a good person when you have that sentence. I started at 29 years old. I was going to be 85 before I saw a parole board, and black people just don’t live that long. He had to find hope in the next life. I got into religion, I became Muslim. And that faith, whether or not God exists, kept me good enough and on the right track to have this opportunity now. Just find a way to be productive and be of service.

Are you optimistic about progress and changes in the system?

I do, although I was a little surprised to see the stories about shoplifting and to see the news exaggerating things. It’s nothing new, but the news kept him on repeat. homicides are up, not to the level of the 80s and 90s, but they are up. So we’re at this point where the money is moving from the police to the neighborhoods, but with the increase in homicides, is it going to go back? Are people going to understand that it’s Covid and trauma and poverty and the other underlying root causes, and that we’re not going to solve this with handcuffs, and that if we leave the root causes, the next individual is going to take the same cycle? I hope people are smarter than that. And we continue to push to put resources into neighborhoods that address the root causes.

I know it’s a clichéd question, but what food are you most looking forward to eating?

Shrimp, steaks and asparagus. All Italian food.

What else are you most looking forward to doing?

Apart from finding a wife, sex and food (laughs), it’s the simple things like driving a car and traveling. I have never left the country. I want to go to Japan, France, Amsterdam and England. I have one more minute to chat with you before the [guard cuts us off]but I want the opportunity to be free and take what I learned in prison and apply it to the world, and see how it works. I look forward to that challenge.


www.theguardian.com

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