CZM Book Club: Phone Resistance, by Safear Ness -- with In The Belly Magazine

Cool Zone Media book Club book Club, book Club book Club. Hello everybody, and welcome to the Kool Zone Media book Club. The only book club where you don't have to do the reading is I do it for you. And this week and next week we are in collaboration within the Belly magazine, which is a revolutionary abolitionist publication by and four incarcerated people in their communities. I'm really excited about this collaboration and really appreciative to Hazel who helped make it happen. And we're collaborating within the Belly and celebration of June eleventh, which you're like, but Margaret, today is June seventh? Well, did you know we don't release on whatever day of the week the eleventh is, but that

we release on Sundays. You probably did know that. And June eleventh is coming up or it's in the past and the future, depending on when you're listening to this. June eleventh you might ask me what that is. June eleventh is the International Day of Solidarity with Long term Anarchist prisoners. This is a holiday that was initially begun by the support crew of Marius Mason, who was a long haul Earth liberation activist imprisoned for seventeen years for acts carried out in defense of the planet. He was actually just released a few weeks ago and he was released back to his community in Detroit and is staying in a halfway house. But this June eleventh, you can celebrate solidarity with political prisoners and all prisoners or political

prisoners because we live in a incarceration society. You can write a letter to somebody inside, or you can decorate a freedom tree to remember all our comrades were still locked up. You can look for a gathering near you for June eleventh, or you can hold your own. Marius is a fierce organizer and raised a lot of hell while he was on the inside, especially fighting for gender affirming care for himself and other people as a transman in prison. According to his website quote, it is believed that he was the first trans masculine person to obtain transition related healthcare after coming into federal custody, setting a precedent for others coming after him. So thank you, Marius.

So yeah, this week and next week, we are excited to remind people that we live in an incarceration society where almost one percent of the adult population is in prison and we want to uplift incarcerated artists, organizers and rebels. And so this week this week is going to be a memoir piece about prison organization. Next week we're going to hear directly from prisoners as they read their own poetry.

But this week we're reading a memoiry piece by the In the Belly editor and organizer Severeness about their time inside it and their reflections on how to organize to win. And honestly, this is a like if you also listen to my show Cool People Did Cool Stuff. This is just like a little micro perfect story of people coming together and fighting and winning. It's piece is called Phone Resistance by Severeness. Could you live without your cell phone?

How would you function? Most people in the free world couldn't imagine life without it. Prisoners don't have that privilege. Cell phones are prohibited in Pennsylvania State Prison, but for those locked away, there are few things more precious than the phone. It's mounted on the wall, costs a dollar for fifteen minutes, and is limited to twenty numbers that must be pre approved by the prison. Despite its limitations, it's our life line to the free world. We live our lives through it. Some get married on it, others divorced parents, raise children, children, care for parents. We laugh, scream, and cry through the receiver. In prison, a phone is much more than a phone. The mission of the Pennsylvania

Department of Corrections p a do C is to quote reduce criminal behavior by providing individualized treatment and education to offenders, resulting in successful community reintegration through accountability and positive change. The emptiness of their words is crushed by the hypocrisy of their actions. Studies show that one of the most effective means of decreasing recidivism is a strong support system in building connections in the community. While the PA do C seems to support this in speech, the policy often reflects differently. During the COVID nineteen pandemic, in direct opposition to the mission of successful community reintegration, the administration at SCI Fayette decided to limit incarcerated people to one fifteen

minute phone call per day. This essay is how a rainbow coalition of prisoners at Fayette fought the phone restriction policy and how despite the mountain of opposition, we won. When the pandemic first started and prison officials restricted our movement abolished the chow hall, canceled programming, and confined us to ourselves. We openly speculated that the prison would use this medical emergency to their advantage and continue these restrictions as a means of control. As incarcerated people, our communication with the outside world mostly depended on phone calls and video visits. We struggled to maintain relationships with our loved ones on a limit of four to fifteen minute phone calls each day. The administration at Fayette asked us to

comply with COVID precautions to make the transition easy. Most of us were worried about catching the virus, so we complied. At that point, violence among prisoners was almost non existent. As time passed, they told us to take the vaccine to open the prison back up. We were tired of being locked down, so most of us complied with that too.

Then they offered the booster. We took that too. After all that, the prison administration repaid us by implementing a new policy limiting us to just one fifteen minute phone call per day. News of the phone restriction first came from a video recording posted on a television channel. The prison hosts an administrator announced the new policy in a condescending to time. He claimed that he previously warned us that if we couldn't work out the phone situation ourselves, that they would do it for us. He said they were still getting complaints. Now they were taking it into their own hands. The policy was to implement a phone sign up sheet. Each prisoner would be limited to sign up for one fifteen minute slot during their recreational time

each day. If there was time left, discretion would be left to the block sergeant to allow further use of the phone. There was no guarantee we could make more than one call. But it was the administration that created the stressful phone environment in the first place. They split the block into cohorts, only allowing a limited amount of time for everyone to get on the phone. There were too many people, not enough phones, and not enough time.

Instead of extending our time out or adding more phones to the block, they decided to punish us for a situation they created. I was heated. My comrades were furious. Everyone that used the phone, which is almost every prisoner, hated the idea of the upcoming restriction. We had already done the best we could to make the phone situation as safe as possible. We created our own phone lines.

I was on three different blocks during the lockdown. On each block, the lines would be long, and sometimes we couldn't get on at the exact time that we wanted, but everyone eventually had time to get on the phone more than once. To us, the administration was flexing their power. But what if anything could be done? Would we take this sitting down? Or did the people finally say enough is enough and stand up to fight prison Twitter was ablaze with speculation. A group of us understood that a revolution needs organizers. We had the anger of the people now, we just needed to channel it. But we had to work fast. The administration announced that the restrictions would be implemented in about a week. First stage planning. But do

you know what, dear listener, we barely plan. We barely plan these ad transitions. In fact, this one, well, I'm actually on my second take of it. I tried recording a take and I didn't get the tone quite right, and I got really self conscious about my AD transitions, and I wanted to get it just right for you.

So I guess there is a bit of planning in it. And rebec The planning began with a small group of us housed together on the same block. We came from various social groups in the prison, Muslim, Christian, Black, Nationalist, white, and gang affiliated. Using our networks, we checked the pulse of the people. Not a single person wanted the restriction.

Most were ready to take a stand. There was a hurdle to overcome, however, Even amongst those ready, many expressed doubt of whether other people would ride or if they would fold. When the pressure came, our group quickly developed a plan of action. The public action itself was pretty straightforward.

We would boycott the phone list and refuse to sign. We anticipated that the prison may counter by preventing us from using the phone, so we decided we would boycott the phone altogether. If the restriction continued, we would then increase our resistance with a food boycott and send our trays back to the kitchen. Most social groups have a leader or leaders they look to for guidance. Some are explicitly labeled a leader, Others act in that capacity without the title regardless. To be as effective as possible, we targeted leaders of the various groups throughout the prison. Once we got them active in the resistance. They influenced others.

Spreading our message as a group to those with influence over large numbers of people allowed us to share some of the risk. Now there was an army of organizers that made it much more difficult for the administration to identify the initial organizers, and even if they did by sending us to solitary confinement, it wouldn't neutralize the resistance.

It's not that we were leaderless. Instead, our leaders were embedded with the people, taking direction from the people and directly accountable to them. This is called building a hydra. When you shop at dragon's head off, it dies. A hydra has multiple heads, and when you chop one off, two more grow in its place. A debate occurred over whether we should write a pamphlet to distribute. The writing would be a reminder to the people of all the things the prison had taken from us over the years, their plans for the phone restriction, and our plan to fight back with help from outside accomplices. It would serve as an encouragement to stand up to our oppressors. Some people felt that a pamphlet would make it back to

the administration. If that happened, they argued, someone may go to the whole. Others felt like the administration was going to hear about our plans through their informants anyway. Besides, this group said we want the administration to feel the pressure. We want them to know we don't plan on taking this lightly. Everyone understood that pamphlet or not, some of us may end up in the hole. In the end, it was decided to go forward with distributing it to select organizers who would show it to other people, but to take it back when they were done reading it.

Some of us have been developing friendships with Free World abolitionists. We knew that if we wanted to pull this off, we would need people attacking from the outside inn as well. Our outside accomplices were delegated two tasks. First, a phone campaign would be developed on social media. An inside comrade wrote a short description of the restriction and asked anyone concerned to call the prison and complain. And of course, we were advising all incarcerated people to contact their families and inform them of the phone restriction. This would let the administration know we were not alone inside. We relaid this information over a video visit. At the time, video visits were less than the phone, and because we were

on a time crunch, we couldn't use snail mail. If you have the time, the safest method is snail mail and having a person who is not under surveillance mail it out. Second, our outside accomplices set up a smart communications account, perhaps multiple accounts, to communicate with prisoners throughout the prison. A prisoner managed to get a list of the names and numbers of incarcerated people throughout the compound.

Over one hundred prisoners located on different blocks received a message about the upcoming phone restriction and our planned resistance to it. There was some security can concerns about taking this step. We didn't want the administration to think they were responsible for organizing on their block. However, we determined that since COVID restrictions might prevent some people being informed, the benefits outweighed the risk. We advised that they send a message back saying that they would not be able to participate in the phone boycott because it was against the rules, and to block the sender. That way, they would be able to use that as evidence if they ever received a misconduct war is deception. This method was

only used by necessity and should be avoided if you can. They made an announcement, if you want to use the phone tomorrow, sign the sheet In the day room, everyone's eyes darted around the block. Who would make the first move? A few comrades and I walked over to the table. There was a memo next to the sign up explaining the policy. We sat near the table and kept watch.

The people were hype about the unity we were witnessed. At one point, someone walked over the desk and signed the list. Before he had a chance to walk away, a comrade approached him and explained that we weren't signing the list, that we were protesting the policy. How is it, he explained. The mission of the doc is supposed to be rehabilitation in making prisoners productive members of society, but they do nothing to actually make that happen. Studies show that building community support is one of the most important factors to reduce recidivism. Yet the administration wants to block our connection to the street. Ain't that fucked up? We were tired of them oppressing us. This time we were standing up. The person agreed and immediately scratched his name

off the list. Much like dear listeners, we are standing up to the corporate oligarchy by writing weird ad transitions and reminding you that you can skip them in the Asian sports gamble.

Here's the ads, and we're back.

Out.

Of everyone on the block, there was one person who refused to join the resistance. He was a known bootlecker and suspected informant. His block worker job made him feel like he ran the block with the CEOs. He found more joy in conversing with them than us. It wasn't a surprise that he continued to sign the list. Some suggested we get him out of the way, but the situation didn't really call for that. We advised the people to abandon him. He didn't have any influence, so it was safer to just leave him. Not every block participated in the boycott. For example, one block with low participation houses the majority of workers in the Corrections Industries CI shop.

They are the highest paid positions in the prison, averaging one hundred and fifty dollars a month. These are mostly older men who have come to cherish the money. Many of them are white. This privilege affects their unity with other prisoners. Many of them confine themselves to the block, never going into the yard where prisoners congregate. What's more concerning is that most of them are buddy buddy with the CEOs and staff. It's almost as if they relate more to the administration than the people they are locked up with. This dynamic deserves a more substantial analysis, But at the very least, I can say that the administration uses their job as leverage over them. They resemble the petty bourgeois the free world. Rarely do any of them

support collective liberation. They sold their revolutionary impulse for some soups and cookies. Our outside accomplices continued to call the administration. I don't know what response they received. For us, it was enough that the prison knew we were supported, that they couldn't hide behind their veil of secrecy as they normally do. Some outside organizers might see social media posts asking them to call prison administrators and think it isn't important.

What can my call do? They are wrong. Inside organizing is strengthened by outside support. On the second day, they came around with the phone list at night. Again, only one person signed the list, you know who. The next day the phones ran as normal. The third night was the last time they tried the list. After that, there was never a list again. We were surprised no one got locked up. They didn't lock us down either. Perhaps the administration couldn't identify the organizers. Maybe our outside accomplices kept them in check. It could be that their superiors at Central Office told them to stand down. It's hard to say, for our war was not decided in an epic battle. There were no victory celebrations. The administration announced

no defeat. Instead, they let the phone restriction quietly fade away. But we know what happened. We came together, we organized, We fought the phone restriction. We won. Despite everyone that's said it would never work, we won. Incarcerated people are not only separated from the free world. We are separated from each other. Prison erects both physical and interpersonal walls.

More modern prisons favor smaller blocks and smaller yards to keep social interaction to a minimum. If the heart of organizing is relationship building, then how do you organize if you don't have the opportunity to socialize. Incarcerated people must be creative in overcoming these barriers. Prison prescribed programming can be subversive bases, law library, schoolrooms, and religious spaces can become gatherings for organizing. With more time and opportunity, we could have utilized these legitimate prison spaces to spread word about the phone boycott. When you find yourself in these spaces, step out of your comfort zone and extend yourself to meet new people. Instead of leading with a statement, throw

a question out there. It could be as simple as, Hey, did you hear about such and such news? What do you think about that? Starting conversations for phone resistance was usually as easy as Hey, did you hear about the upcoming phone restriction? What do you think about that? Even people who didn't use the phone often hated the idea of the administration taking more from us? Why? Because they kept taking shit from us? And no one stands up anticipate that response, why is this time different? Before the phone resistance, we spent a lot of time building study groups, connecting incarcerated people with outside activists, and increasing our political education. Collectively, these groups were integral to our resistance. If there are

no study groups where you're at, start one right now, Grab a book, take it to the day room, and start a conversation. The administration's plan to restrict the phone backfired in ways that they couldn't have imagined. Instead of isolating us from the free world, they brought us together. And when we come together collectively, we win the end, that's fucking write. When we fight, we win. I love that this piece is both a story, like here's a thing that happened, and it's also just a step by step guide to organizing. And it's talking about organizing in one of the most anti organizing spaces, like a space that's specifically designed from the foundations up to be a place that counter's organizing. One of the things. If you

don't spend a lot of time paying attention to the prisons in America, you might not know that the division of prisoners into these clicks, and especially along racial lines, is very consciously directed by the prison system and the administrators, like it is very conscious that they want to keep oppressed people separated by race. One would argue that the social constructive race was invented for that reason, and it's different than you know, culture and other things. But that would be crazy. I know it wouldn't be crazy. That would be accurate. That is an accurate read of the very least why whiteness was created in order to keep poor people siding with their like race instead of their class. Anyway.

I love that this piece just like is straight up like here's how you do it, and gets into I don't know, we have this idea given to us by like Hollywood, that organizing as a matter of like you just rile everyone up and then it just like happens. You're like, ah, yeah, we're all mad, so it's going to just happen, you know, And that's that's not what happens.

It's when you organize that you accomplish things. So let that be your lesson. Margaret is talking to herself because she's an introvert and doesn't like dealing with people. Sophia, who wrote this piece, has this to say about it quote, thanks for including my piece. I would say that not only was the organizing we did prohibited by the prison, but even me writing about it landed me in solitary confinement.

Prison censorship runs deep, and I hope the essay can inspire others inside to share their voices of resistance in spite of the consequences. As for their bio sofiarness, they them is a formally incarcerated abolitionist released from Pennsylvania State Prison. In twenty twenty three. Their lineage is traced through indigenous people's Apache Chiricahua, Spanish colonizers, and white settlers. They still organize against the prison industrial complex with incarcerated comrades. Their writing has appeared in Jewish Currents, Utopics, and the Asian American Writers Workshop. These days, they organize with the abolitionist media collectives In the Belly and in the Mix Prisoner podcast. Yeah, and thanks again to In the Belly for collaborating on

this episode and next week's episode, which is the extra special Part two. And yeah, there's some really moving parts in part two. Because I didn't record part two, I'm going to like record little bits of it. But I'm just listening to, you know, interviews and poetry read by the prisoners, and it gets us some really important stuff.

You should be excited about it. I'm excited for you to hear it. And also I'm really great full to Hazel, who I work with on this show, who made this happen. So thanks to the Belly and Hazel and all the authors. In the meantime, if you want more of Sophia's writing and want to support that work, you can find in the Belly on Instagram at belly zine, and subscribe to the newsletter and print magazine at patreon dot com slash in the Belly. You can also learn more about June eleventh, the International Day of Solidarity with long term anarchist prisoners, at June eleven dot no blogs dot org. And you can join a gathering this Thursday. Those very nice Hazel wrote down what day June eleventh is because I didn't

want to pause the recording to look at my calendar and look it up. But apparently it's Thursday. So you can join a gathering this Thursday and learn more and get involved. And I'm Margaret Hiljoy and you can find me on Instagram and blue Sky by looking at my name and yem until next week. I don't know, same shit as always take care of each other, Fuck Ice free Palestine, and don't let the bastards grind you down.

It could happen. Here is a production of cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website coolzonmedia dot com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can now find sources for it could happen here, listed directly in episode descriptions. Thanks for listening,

CZM Book Club: Phone Resistance, by Safear Ness -- with In The Belly Magazine

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