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Commentary
Street Roots • October 13-19, 2017
Street Roots • October 13-19, 2017
Commentary
Page 9
ERIC LIU, from page 7
little bubble that will be drained of its vitality, of its
creativity, of its diversity.
A city is a microcosm of humanity. You want
diversity of class. You want diversity of race, of
worldview and perspective. You want diversity of
ways of solving problems. You want scientists, but
you also want artists. You want tech people, but you
also want journalists. You want folks who are
builders with their hands and people that are
builders with code.
M.W.: How does class play into this, in terms of
political power?
an you imagine what it would be
changed diapers, made bottles, and I helped
like to be sentenced to 280
bathe her. I always held her in my arms
months in prison at the young age
until she fell asleep, and whenever she
of 18?
cried, I always worried that she was hungry
or hurting because underneath the pink
That is 23 years and four months to be
little outfits on her tiny body there were
exact, a lifetime by any standards, day for
several scars left behind by the
day, and no chance for early
same surgeries that saved her
parole. I know what it’s like
life, but no one could see them.
because that’s my life and I’m
No one knew they were there.
living it now.
E nrique is an inmate
They
were reminders to me of
As I write this, I’m sitting in
at Oregon State
how lucky I was to have her and
my small cell here at the
Penitentiary who
how easily she could be taken
Oregon State Penitentiary in
enjoys writing,
away from me.
Salem, and I’m wondering if
drawing, reading and
Now, this is my story so I will
learning about
, this story will give you a
history, religion and
be honest and tell it like it is.
different perspective on prison
places. H e says most
I’ve been gang-affiliated since I
life or prisoners for that
o f all, he likes to meet
was 14 years old and back then I
matter.
positive people.
didn’t see, or couldn’t see, the
I am surrounded by people,
difference between what was
but no one is like me. We are
important and what I “wanted”
all different. Some will be
to be important in my life. I had
getting out tomorrow, and
no sense of direction or purpose; no goals
some will never taste the sweetness of
or motivation. I was just a kid trying to
freedom ever again. This will be their
figure it out on my own.
forever, and hundreds more, perhaps
One night I went out as usual and I never
thousands will be touched by DOC
came back. I’ve been here in prison ever
(Department of Corrections) by the time I
since. It has been 15 long years. I’m no
make it home; this life is not fun!
longer a kid! I’m still a dad, but I don’t feel
I could speak extensively about the
like one, however, I have learned a lot about
struggles and injustices that take place in
myself, who I truly am and where I want to
here on a daily basis.
be in the future. I will be 34 years old in a
The heartaches and headaches and
few months, and I’m happy to announce
frustrations that I’ve had to tolerate for the
that in eight years, I will be released from
past 15 years are very real and they affect
prison. I will get a second chance in life.
not only myself, but the community in more
What I have lost I will never get back! I •
ways than one.
left a little baby who is a teenager now.
But to me there is something else that
Soon she will be a woman, and I’m OK with
surpasses in importance even the harshest
that.
of mistreatments and living conditions in
I have a personal belief, my own
prison, my 16-year-old daughter, Angeles.
philosophy if you will. I believe that life
I was a kid myself when she was born in
does not teach us, we teach ourselves, and
2001. That’s when I felt true happiness for
we learn only if we are willing and ready to
the first time in my life, but I didn’t know
learn. I have learned a lot! I have goals now.
what else to expect or how to process what
My whole outlook on life has changed
happened next. It was a bittersweet
dramatically. My way of thinking, my ideas
moment and to this day I continue to feel
and even my taste in music and literature
the same way.
has changed, but part of me still struggles
Angeles was one of many premature
babies that were born that year. At 1 lb. and with my reality. The reality that I created
for myself and for my loved ones, for my
8 oz. she was a miracle child. She spent the
first 3 months of her life inside an incubator daughter.
She says that I’m the best dad because
in the Doernbecher neo-natal unit at OHSU
I’m funny and I listen to her and because I
in Portland. Her mom and I visited a few
know how to give her advice in a way that
times a week, but were not allowed to touch
makes sense to her and because I have
her, and that was something that I had not
always found ways to get her something on
anticipated.
her birthday or for Christmas. Because I
I always thought that being a dad would
write and call constantly and because I send
be different. During those 3 months
pictures and drawings and I share my
Angeles went through several surgeries,
poetry with her. Because I engage her and
two of which were major, and it was scary.'
challenge her mentally with questions about
Suddenly being a dad was a scary thing to
history and Islam - which is her religion.
me. But when she was released from the
She says my tattoos look cool, but I know
hospital things became somewhat normal. I
6
P H O T O S C O U R T E S Y O F E N R IQ U E B A U T IS T A
Enrique Bautista visits with his daughter in 2014 at Two Rivers Correctional Institution. She was 14, and he said he was being kept in the
hole. She had been crying ju st before this photo was taken.
My daughter
By Enrique Bautista
"To me there is
something else
that surpasses
In importance
even the
harshest of
mistreatments
and liv in g
conditions in
prison, my
16-year-old
daughter,
Angeles."
E nrique a t Oregon State Penitentiary in 2016 before his last stint in IMU, which is
a form o f solitary confinement. He hopes his writing will help people see beyond his
tattooed exterior to the m an inside.
Read Street Roots fo u rp a rt report on Oregon state inm ates’
experiences with solitary confinement a t news.streetroots.org/caged
she secretly wishes I wouldn’t get more.
We share a love for books and over the
years we have been building our own
library.
I order books in the mail for her which
she reads at home. I order a copy for myself
which I read in my cell, and we discuss the
books in the crowded but cozy visiting room
here at the OSP. There used to be a
program with the same concept to bond
with one’s children through the reading of
books back when Angeles’ favorite was
“Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” When she used to
sit on my lap for me to tell her stories of
when she was a baby and I was still out.
Eventually she became “too old” to sit on
my lap anymore. And the board games we
used to play became boring. The card tricks
weren’t amusing anymore and I was forced
to learn new ways to be a better dad from
prison.
I took the parenting class which is
offered to us a couple of times a year here
at OSP. I read countless books and I
participated in different seminars and
groups such as the mentorship class
through the UHURU SASA club also here
at OSP.
In 2004 I began to record my daughter’s
growth and development as well as our
bond and our father daughter relationship
because some day I want her to see that no
matter how far I was from her, she was
always in my heart and no matter how many
months and years I spent in isolation trying
not to lose my mind, she was always with
me, giving me motivation and strength to
make it out of there as a man and not as a
creature on medication like a lot of people
end up turning into only because they have
no support from anyone, anywhere.
I have bought a journal on canteen for
$6. The best investment I’ve ever made. In
that journal I’ve written stuff ranging from
the loss of her first tooth and to the first
concert she went to and the bully at school
that took her book while she was reading it
and threw it in the trash can. How that
made me feel and how she must have felt. I
also put pictures in there to show her how
she went from knee height to being in high
school and having a crush on Luis.
I plan on giving it to her on her 18th
birthday. The same age I was when I came
to prison and I hope that in that journal she
finds the answers to some of the questions
she may have in the future.
But my question is will I ever be a real
dad? Will I ever “feel” like a real dad? I
don’t know. All I know is that my daughter
loves me and I feel it when she wraps her
skinny arms around me and she says “I love
you dad.”
E.L.: When we who are middle class or upper
middle class or prosperous take inventory of our
various forms of capital,
political, social,
relationship capital, we
face the choice. Are you
" I open my book with this story
going to hoard it, or are
you going to circulate it?
of the tomato pickers in Immo
We need to be neighbor to kalee, Fla,, who were liv in g in
neighbor, member of the Y
conditions ol modern-day slav
to member of the Y,
ery u n til the early 1990s, when
member of a community
they
committed the magic act oi
club to member of a
community club, peer to
organizing. That allowed them
peer, be changing a culture to generate brand-new power
to say, “Hey, we have a
where it didn't previonsly exist.
responsibility to start
They created this cascade oi
circulating our privilege.”
change, in the working condi
That means investing
tions, but then in the broader
these various forms of
capital to help empower
agricultural economy. Almost
people who are right now
anybody who's reading my book
more on the margins of
has more starting capacity and
political power.
M.W.: The Seattle City
Council recently passed a
law barring landlords from
discriminating on the basis
o f past criminal record. A nd
landlords are saying, well
then we have to deal with
these people who may not be
the best tenants.
capital than the tomato pickers
ol Immokalee did in 1992. XI
they could do it, why can't we?"
E.L.: Yeah. We have to deal with “these people.”
Their risk perhaps has increased nominally, but
what they mainly have to deal with is the stories
they have in their head of who these people are.
It’s analogous to the conversations that are
unfolding in the country post-Charlottesville about
white privilege and white supremacy. It’s easy to
say, “I’m against white supremacy,” when what you
mean is people carrying torches in a parade. It’s
different to say, “I’m against white supremacy,”
when that means if you’re white, “I’m going to give
up on the college alumni admissions preference for
my white kid.” Or “I’m going to defer in a meeting
when a person of color might have an idea that I
also had.”
M.W.: Are we really more powerful than we think?
E.L.: I open my book with this story of the
tomato pickers in Immokalee, Fla., who were living
in conditions of modern-day slavery until the early
1990s, when they committed the magic act of
organizing. That allowed them to generate brand-
new power where it didn’t previously exist They
created this cascade of change, in the working
conditions, but then in the broader agricultural
economy. Almost anybody who’s reading my book
has more starting capacity and capital than the
tomato pickers of Immokalee did in 1992. If they
could do it, why can’t we?
Reprinted from Real Change News, Seattle, Wash.