Eric Update and Poem from a time in the S.H.U

Last week, Eric was thrown into the hole and his cell was trashed. Among other things, a bunch of letters went missing and were destroyed. He is now out of the hole and  wants to let folks know that if you wrote him in the weeks leading to the 1st of June he lost your letter and that you should reach back out if you would like :).

Below is a poem written while EK was at CCA Leavenworth, now three years ago.

I am pacing in my cell

My skin is still on fire from the pepper spray

that I was bathed in 8 days ago

No clean clothes have been provided, no shower either

I am scared because I don’t understand the process

or the noises, or the smells

Don’t understand why they aren’t giving me a shower

or a fucking towel, or fucking toothpaste

My jaw still hurts, my eyes wont’ stop watering

It hurts to swallow anything

I am pacing my cell letting ever pig know

that if they open this door I am attacking

If they have the gaul, I will provide everything else

8 days ago I charged into a group of COs

fist swinging, refusing to let them disrespect my cell mate

I didnt make it far, multiple cans emptied onto my face

Punched, kneed, slammed down

A knee on the back of my throat, a CO grabs my hair

and lifts up my face, while another pulls my hair back

and eyes open

to ensure I get the full affect

This is my 2nd time in seg here..this time will last 10 months

I will be stuck in a cell with no lights

Served spoon sized portions of food, be denied medical care

I will meet some of my best friends and I will fall in love

My spirit will enlarge and my rage at the system will deepen

I received my property a full 3 weeks later

My first shower came 10days after the spraying

skin still has burn spots

I am pacing my cell, waiting.

We’re gearing up for International Day of Solidarity with EK on June 28th. Join us in supporting our friend! Thanks everyone!

Second Annual Int’l Day of Solidarity with EK: His Story

 

June 28, 2018 is the second annual International Day of Solidarity with Eric King. June 28th, 2016 was the day that he was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Now, two years later, he is able to share his story about the action that got him there.

We hope that you will join us in celebrating and showing solidarity for our friend by writing him, sending him books, spreading the word through banner drops or leafleting, or organizing a fundraiser or celebratory event.  Thank you for your continued support!

—–

Kansas City is such a beautiful place in the summer. So hot that you can feel your lungs melting with every breath, but dim enough where the stars still shine through the city lights. Walking to Congressman Cleaver’s office, that is what caught my attention: the stars, a full 12 of them, were keeping me company on my journey.

I must not have looked suspicious at all, walking down the street in a sweater, jeans, and a loaded backpack. Nothing to see here! Just another fellow having a late night jaunt through the city. I miss that backpack more than anything, it was a real loyal companion. As any street/traveling kid already knows, you never leave home without your backpack. Mine had my essentials in it: extra socks, two loaded bottles, assorted weapons, tooth paste, and one can of black beans. Only a fool leaves home without a can of black beans. This backpack had been my companion for over a decade, it was as important as anything I owned. It was also used as evidence against me in this and many-a-crime. Why could I never take you off backpack!

The Kansas City midtown area is a bit run down and beautiful. Murals and taggings on every building, some political, some gang affiliated, some just fish swimming out of rabbit brains… something for all taste. There are some lovely gardens, discarded homes, occasional busses missing wheels. I walked these streets every day and night, slept on them occasionally, sprinted down them from time to time. They offered me shelter and escape, comfort and solace… concrete as an accomplice.

There were no nerves headed to the office, not because of any bravery or extensive convictions, but because my dumb body just doesn’t produce adrenaline at the right moments. My shoes were tied tight because I knew there may be some running involved, and you never want to lose a shoe while being chased, or at any other time. It took me 24 minutes to get where I needed to be, a familiar walk that I had made daily in preparation. This was an area completely engulfed in predatory capitalism. Pay Day loans, check cashing, liquor stores, banks, every one of them deserved a bit of violence headed their way, and some actually got it. =) A whole street full of bullseyes.

The congressman’s office was decided on two weeks prior. A lawmaker sitting comfortably in my city while an uprising happens just hours away, no no no. There are many options when deciding in which way you want to fuck up a building. Some are very basic, like a brick, but  I didn’t think that said enough. Spray painting was too simple and wouldn’t get the full message across in my mind. A Molotov was the choice because it painted the right picture, and because really who can afford to make pipe bombs. The thought of the National Guard in Ferguson, an occupied city, the smell of a city on fire, the fear of having armed soldiers ready to pop…I felt like our police-supporting law makers deserved to feel that as well.

Sitting across the street I waited patiently, listening to the sounds of the city. My eyes kept darting around, looking for any signs of life in the office or headed my way on the streets. After 30 odd minutes it was go time. I walked to the back of the office, unloaded my bottles, and made sure my face was properly covered. There were two options to aim for: a big ass front window where all the staff worked, or a little window on the side of the building, which seemed to be (and was) the congressman’s window. I chose the tiny window. A hammer was used to bust out the window. The biggest surprise of all of this was that I actually got that hammer through the window. No one has ever in my life accused me of being a good throw. My hand eye coordination is comparable to a drowning mole rat. When the window was busted the clock started, yet in my mind time kind of froze. My hand lifted the first bottle, the wind wanted in on the action and kept blowing out the lighter, the wind is always trying to get involved. Bottle one goes in the air annnndddd…smashes against the side of the window frame…fuck. Bottle two gets lit, gets thrown and…hits the underside of the window…the office isn’t up in flames. Of all things it was disappointing that the sun would rise on an intact building.

After the second bottle hit it was time to move. Everything became incredibly loud, my breathing, the sound of my feet scuttling down the hill and into the sub-street before making my final exit and vanishing into the night (headed back home).

In hindsight I made a serious handful of mistakes. I should have never used the hammer to break the window. I should have deleted my facebook or at least shut it down. There were successes as well, though. I was able to maintain my values which include not cooperating with the state even though it meant that my sentence was more severe, that’s a win. I was able to express my feelings and wage my own revolutionary battle, and that’s all that we can ever do. I took on a symbol of authority in complete solidarity with the people in Ferguson. Nothing changed after this, and nothing was expected to.

When I arrived in prison I had no support system. There was no money waiting for me, there weren’t people spreading word to help me or get information out. No one let the community know this was a Ferguson solidarity act. My complete narrative in that first month or so was dictated by the media, and I was painted as a mentally ill jackass, this wasn’t ok to me. I spent two years per-trial unable to give words or explanation. So this is my story, my narrative of the events that happened and why they happened, and what has happened since.

In closing, the building failed to ignite… not the Molotov cocktail 😉

They are still fighting in the streets, so we are still fighting in here.
Ferguson Always.

EK Statement on Dry Snitching

I had never heard the term ‘Dry Snitching’ before coming to prison, but the concept is very clear, it’s indirect tattling. Dry snitching is telling on someone in an oblique, round about way. That may sound low key or not a big deal, but trust me when I say that dry snitching will get you hurt, it is fucking hell. If you do this, you are ratting.

Let’s say you’re not supposed to have pillows in your cell and some pig jams you up, takes your pillow, but no one elses. You, feeling indignant and entitled then barks at the cop, ”why are you taking just mine when everyone has a pillow!” You just dry snitched on everyone. Or the cop is looking for a broom and you innocently inform him, ”oh it’s in Joe’s room”…sounds like nothing but who knows what was in that room and you just sent the cop there.

In the feds we have emailing and phone usages. Both of these things are always very heavily monitored. A slimey and accidental way to snitch on someone in the feds is to email your family or friends about something going on here. You aren’t officially telling the cops but you are 100% snitching. Like if you were hating on someone’s hustle and you emailed your partner that so and so is hustling back onions or something from the kitchen. That dude would get hit for that guaranteed. Ratting. That can seem harmless and just sharing shit with your family, but it could get the kitchen dude jammed up. We can always avoid accidentally dry snitching such as above by MINDING OUR OWN BUSINESS. Staying in our own lane. This is so important and crucial in prison. It isn’t a game. It can prevent so many potentially ugly situations.

Recently I heard of a prisoner purposely dry snitching and it broke my heart and made me feel sick to my stomach at the exact same time. This person apparently felt unsafe with his cell mate, and thought he was in danger. This fucking sucks and is an ugly reality of prison. We have all been there. Being a Political Prisoner doesn’t make you immune to the daily grime, violence, and ugliness of prison. No one is going to hand you a pass. We exist and function in the same reality as everyone else, to think or expect otherwise is classist and gross. Our friend had a handful of options: he could have spoken with and maybe caught problems with his cellmate, could have tried to switch cells, he could have checked in (checking in is when you go to the cops and say you are unsafe and are put in Protective Custody in segregation), whatever. He chose what should have been a non-option. Either by email or phone our friend hit up his loved ones and told them in monitored communication that he was in danger FROM HIS CELL MATE. He did this knowing that he would get rescued by the guards, this was not an accident. This wasn’t his first day in prison. That is ratting. He may have never have taken the stand in a courtroom, but he just put evidence against his cellmate and got them put under investigation.. he may as well have had a fucking badge on.

Think of the serious implications of doing this. What if that dude had a weapon or drugs on his property and he got searched or the room got searched, that is extra YEARS to his sentence! What if he was close to transferring closer to home, that would be out of the question now, or if he had a visit coming up, a child’s birthday or something like that. Your tattling just robbed this person of that chance to be free for that moment, you just took on the role-no matter how intentionally- of being the police. Your fear was more important than oppressing another human. He may as well have ratted on a comrade or been the person who told the cops where I was staying when I got arrested, that is how it felt to me. There is no excuse for this from anyone, let alone someone that espouses anti-oppression, pro-liberation. Our fear does not give us permission to snitch. You can be proactive in your safety without telling on others. No one in the free world gives a fuck about checking in. By doing this our friend got a safe transfer an an easy yard where no one will check his paper work to see what happened, but if he had got sent to another serious joint, he would have had tons to answer for, no one needs or wants those problems. If you believe and live a life of anti-oppression, anti-authority, etc. etc., you cannot tell on other people to better your own situation, at least not in my mind.

On the flip side of all of that, while in pre-trial there may be people who will try and rat on you if they can, hoping to lessen their own sentence at your expense. This is called ”jumping on someone’s ship”, i.e. ”Josh jumped on Noah’s ship”, just to use two random names. This person goes to the states attorney and says they will become the states evidence against you so that they can reduce their sentence. It is something I faced at CCA when I was there. When my plea deal was all but signed my lips got loose and it was brought to my attention that one of the cats I was cool with was trying to talk to them people about getting a reduction, telling them things about me. This made me feel like a fucking cold chump for letting my guard down, for believing in some romanticized ‘convict’s code’. There is an inherent desire to talk to people, to share things, maybe to posture and brag. But pre-trial we need to be so careful with the information we chose to share and who we share it with. The pigs will go to nasty lengths to jam you up, and people get very desperate to shave time off their own sentences. Everyone inside is not our friends, sometimes smiles hide fangs.

“Your Vegan Option is to Take the Meat Off Your Sandwich”

Image result for people being served prison cafeteria

Eric is currently engaged in a long-running fight for adequate vegan food at FCI Florence. Every day there is some degree of struggle with the kitchen staff from the constant dairy and eggs served, the meat on his tray to the guards laughing as he is served soy mush “enjoy your VEGAN slop”. When the facility is locked down or on a holiday schedule prisoners get “sack dinner” which is a bologna sandwich with cheese, Eric included. When he asks for a peanut butter sandwich (which is easy, no assembly required, a single serving of peanut-butter and two pieces of bread) he is told, “Oh we are 100% compliant, your vegan option is to take the meat off your sandwich”.

With the constant barrage of lock-downs there are weeks in which prisoners do not even have access to commissary which is necessary to supplement the BOP’s idea of vegan nutrition. So, lock-downs can often mean living without the knowledge of where food is going to come from.

Eric has filed a complaint on both the quality of the food which is not compliant with BOP regulations for a vegan tray, and the lack of vegan options. Eric is aware the “soy” he is fed comes without a label to confirm it is in fact vegan (a problem in the past). His complaints were denied, and he is now moving to the next level which is filing a complaint to the regional office and he plans to take this as far as it needs to go until there’s substantive change.

*Update*

EK submitted a BP-9 about this issue, which is essentially the second step in filing a complaint when it is not addressed.  The BP-9 goes to the warden and asks them to address the situation. It read as follows:

“No where on the National Menu does it say ”soy chunks” or ”soy in water”. On March 12th There was no fruit given, which is against the menu plan. On March 11,12,16,18, and 25, I was served group up soy with no seasoning or additives. The menu says ‘pasta soy’, ‘soy ziti’, ‘soy fajitas’, etc. That is what I am supposed to be getting, and that is not the case. The BP-8 response from the kitchen does nothing to address this issue. It’s been happening for months despite me bringing it to the kitchen boss and being assured it would end, this was over 2 months ago. Will be BP-10 and Law Suit Accordingly”

And here is the warden’s response, clearly ignoring his complaints:

“Your request for Administrative Remedy dated March 25, 2018 and accepted in the A.R. Program on March 27, 2018 has been reviewed. You allege the institution is not providing meals in accordance with the National Menu and policy. Specifically you allege that there was no fruit served on March 12, 2018 and that ”soy chunks” have been served instead of the proper no meat alternative, and that the soy products being served are not seasoned. As relief, you request to be provided with soy meat loaf or tofu lasagna as the no-meant alternative served..”

“..the no-meat alternative served at the institution is in compliance with the national menu. Soy meat loaf and tofu lasagna are not offered as an alternative on the 5 week menu cycle. The use of soy chunks as well as all non-meat options, are purchased from approved vendors adhering to strict specifications”..

Please join us in supporting Eric through this time, drop a letter in the mail and please be alert that in the future Eric may need you to take action regarding this particular issue. Thank you so much for you continued support.

In solidarity –

EK defense crew

EK Statement on Brandon Baxter of the Cleveland 4

“I don’t normally write men political prisoners because I have had bad
experiences… but I hear you are safe”

I cannot tell you how many letters I get that open this way. Stories of
unwanted sexual conversation, requests for photos and attempts to start
relationships. It is not difficult to not violate women. I do it every
day when responding to letters.
A question for men in our community….Why are we being such creeps?

I remember the first time a female comrade called me out. I was in high
school and it was over me being a creep about a facebook picture. I
thought I was being funny or cute and made a comment that didn’t seem
out of line to me at all..She didn’t call me out in front of everyone,
instead just replied to my message, ”Eric I thought we were friends,
you are making me feel less”. This one sentence stays with me still
today because I never again wanted to ever make someone feel that way,
whether we were comrades, friends, partners, anything. That sentence
changed my entire life because it was the first chance to hold myself
accountable, to look at myself and see a chance to grow. We didn’t have
the language to express what was really happening, I was being a
patriarchal creep, that’s the reality..but she knew I was making her
feel less, and that was enough, that should ALWAYS be enough. That
chance to grow didn’t end in highschool, it didn’t end when I turned 20
or 30..this is a continual growth, a continual re-evaluation of what is
ok and what isn’t. Even now when my partner lovingly calls me out on
being patriarchal, I listen and take it very seriously, so that I don’t
ever make someone feel ”less” ever again. There is no perfection here,
there is no finished product, but there is a desire to always do better
and to always grow.

What I am seeing right now from certain people and parts of the radical
community, the MALE political prisoner community, makes me absolutely
sick to my fucking stomach. In prison you may find yourself having to do
things to survive that make you feel uncomfortable or gross, and that
sucks. But there is NEVER a reason to hurt, manipulate, lie to, bash,
coerce, trick, or in general be greasy to female supporters (or any
supporters really). Being a political prisoner does not entitle you to
be a misogynistic, manipulative piece of shit. Having support isn’t a
license to take advantage of people’s feelings or solidarity, to use
them for your own purposes. It isn’t ok in the streets, it isn’t ok
behind bars. We need to walk our talk on this issue, at least I do. We
need to call out the people who act this way, or think this is ok.

Brandon from the Cleveland 4 has done all those things listed above and
more, admittedly and purposely.  When given the chance to do the right
thing, to be held accountable, not only did he reject those options but
instead he chose to victim blame. He has done major harm to different
women in the community who tried to support him. And since that is the
case, I want nothing to do with this guy. I don’t want to be associated
with him in any way, and that includes being associated with people who
still condone or apologize for him. If you have romanticized prison to
the extent to where you think this behavior is okay just because he has
been oppressed, then please lose my address.

How we treat each other isn’t a game.  The women in our community still
have to deal with rampant patriarchy and sexism and still have to deal
with being called liars and exaggerates when they speak up. I bet we all
know of a hushed story about a man in our community who has problematic
behavior towards women. When these behaviors are silenced it just puts
more women in danger of experiencing them. This isn’t the future I want;
this isn’t how I want our revolution to look like. I stand with our
female comrades and I know many many others do as well, and when we see
behavior like this, we need to work on it, and if that isn’t seen as an
option, then we need to smash it out. We need to start saying these
things out loud, and as men it’s time for US to start holding each other
accountable and stop relying on femme folks to do the emotional labor of
this.

Medical Horrors at FCI Florence

*****We (EK support crew) would like to say this situation is representative of a bigger problem within the BOP. There was recent information that has emerged that shows that the way the BOP is handling the hiring freeze is to have nurses double as cops. To quote Nurse Hendricks “I am a guard first and a nurse second” and THAT is the problem. In the medical field folks are asked to do no harm. Meanwhile they are asked to partake in the psychological torture that prison guards carry out and here is the kicker on the same people they are tasked to keep alive and healthy. One can not be in charge of the health of a person while at the same time the other aspect of their job is to dehumanize them.  *****

Since I have been at FCI Florence I have seen some real cruelty and
vileness at a level I didn’t think was possible, ugliness that would
make your skin crawl. No, it wasn’t from the gangs or the drug dealers,
it was from certain members of the Medical Team. Specifically R.N.
Hendricks. Fuck RN Hendricks.

Imagine walking out of breakfast at 630 into the freezing cold mountain
air. Once your feet step right outside you see someone wearing scrubs
and a smile, and you assume this is a helpful caring person. You are
sadly mistaken. Within seconds that person is in your face literally
screaming ”SPREAD EM!”, referring to your legs. This person will then
proceed to ”pat” you down so aggressively you would be forgiven for
mistaking this pat down for an assault. That assault quickly becomes a
Sexual Assault when she forcibly grabs your penis and balls, forces her
hand between your ass cheeks, laughing horrifically, muttering to
herself ”no one is getting past me today!”. This is what life is like
for many men at FCI Florence.

You may be asking yourself why she is taking this so fucking personal,
that is because she sees herself as a ”cop first, nurse second, so
don’t try to fuck with me!”. to which one inmate replied ”that
explains the quality of your health care..” When an inmate tells her to
keep her fucking hands off of his dick, her response is to quip ”Well
you shouldn’t have come to prison!”, before writing up that inmate for
having the audacity to not want to be sexually assaulted. Is she looking
for knives or escape tools you may ask? Is she doing it to protect
herself and her co-workers? Nope, she is looking for extra milks that
people may smuggle back to supplement their protein intake. I assure you
that no one has ever hid a milk carton in their ass cheeks. Most
prisoners held captive here at the FCI have had to deal with this
sadistic handsy creep on this level, but some have to deal with her on a
much more serious level, and at that more serious medical level
Hendricks gets to really express her ugliness and hatred toward inmates.

There amount of horrors that she is accountable for is staggering and
hard to put into paragraph form. Inmates with long histories of seizures
have regularly had their dosages reduced by her-without doctors
permission or knowledge- leading to ugly, violent seizures. If you make
the mistake of having a seizure on the 2nd teir, you can expect to be
carried down the steps not on a gurney, but by 4 members of staff,
dragging you like a sack of potatoes. Inmates with cancer have REGULARLY
been denied doctor follow ups (despite the doctors request), denied
medicine prescribed by the doctor, and had information continually
withheld by RN Hendricks. There are countless grievances against her for
ignoring actual doctors’ orders, losing medical inhalers, misplacing
medicine, and changing dosages. I know this because I help type many of
these grievances, and every time my heart aches for my comrades who have
to go through this.

Imagine your brother, father or grandfather has had a doctor order
testing for cancer, only to have RN Hendricks cancel the testing.
Imagine them needing medicine for some disorder, only to have RN
Hendricks change the medicine completely or deny it all together. This
ruins lives. Recently she had the goons run into the room of an elderly
inmate with colon cancer whom the doctor had ordered to have a walker.
Was she racing in to help him? Fuck no; she was taking the walker back,
despite the inmate having the approval forms on hand. This is real. This
is serious. We have no other medical recourse. How does R.N. Hendricks
justify this? ”Shouldn’t have came to prison”. Recently an inmate
filed a lawsuit against her after he went to the sick-call window
complaining of pain and swelling in his testicles and she refused him
service. He went back every day and each time she denied him help until
it got so swollen they had to remove the damn thing. This isn’t shocking
to the people inside, we see it happen all the fucking time.

Hendricks is a soulless maggot, but she could not do this without
approval or permission from above. She, like every member of this
fascist brigade, answers to higher ups. She cannot act alone. She is
permitted to do this by the Bureaucrats who do not remove her from her
post. By their refusal to act, they are not only allowing it to
continue, but condoning the behavior, and why wouldn’t they? This is
systematic abuse at its finest and this is what the BOP is masters of.
The prison shields, protects, tolerates and accepts her behavior and the
literal blood is also on their hands. R.N. Hendricks is an agent of a
system that brutalizes other human beings, and as long as this system
exists it will continue to act accordingly.
Fuck R.N. Hendricks..Until all are free

-EK

UPDATE

****So to update on that I feel it’s important that people know that I
was called into the Lt’s office by Lt. Estrada and asked whether I had
been sexually assaulted or not. If I said yes I would be placed in
Protective Custody and the police would be called and an investigation
would develop which would lead to me being shipped. I am not an idiot.
If I said yes and then refused to follow up that is another shot and I
would get disciplined for that. I was told to sign a piece of paper
saying I was never sexually assaulted by Hendricks. It is important to
note that I never said I was, and only pointed out her very aggressive
and questionable behavior. I signed that paper and went to visit with
you. ****

Update on Eric After Losing His Brother

Eric suddenly and tragically lost his brother recently.  Grieving the loss of a loved one is tough as it is, but for almost two weeks now Eric has been trying to figure out the best way to mourn the loss of his brother in an already dark place.  While EK is not in the head space right now to be able to respond to the letters and cards he has been receiving he’d like everyone to know all the love and support he has received reminds him that he is not alone in this fight.  He wanted to apologize for taking a longer time to respond to folks who are reaching than he’d like.  Receiving the news was clearly devastating for EK and moving forward has certainly been a struggle, so please keep him in your thoughts while he navigates through this difficult time.  We encourage you to keep the cards and letters coming because it’s those incoming communications full of light that can really help to keep his spirits up.  Here is Eric’s address once again:
Eric King # 27090045
FCI FLORENCE
FEDERAL CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION
PO BOX 6000
FLORENCE, CO  81226

Thank you so much for your continued support.
-EK Support Crew

“J. Saunders” a poem by Eric King

Please visit http://www.freehermanbell.org/ to learn more about how you can support Herman Bell

J. Saunders beats elderly, defenseless men
There isn’t any need or reason to sugar coat it
Or spruce it up with bureaucratic jargon
”Used proper force in direction of duty”
He took his bigoted fist and smashed them
into the face, ribs and head of an elderly revolutionary
out of spite and fear and rage
Saunders exploited a horrifying power dynamic
Just like countless others in his position have done
And mauled his insecurities and lack of self-worth
into Herman, knowing there would be no fight back
Lest Herman had a death wish
3 or 4 on one, just like the white gang members
these pigs wish they could openly be, get yer licks in
Decades in and still having to deal with this..
Centuries past and the same old violence
Saunders kept his job so clearly the state of NY sees no problem wtih this
He kept his breathing and bodily functions, which is a certain shame
How many blows were needed, how much pepper spray dispensed
to quell his body and spirit?
How much jealousy rest in Saunder’s insect heart
knowing that Herman is more loved and respected in an hour
than he will be in his entire life?
The racism is real, the hate is real, our enemies have names and addresses
And if you beat our fathers and grandfathers, then you’ll have your name called
and you will have to answer for your actions
J Saunders is a fucking maggot coward
We see you biggot, we know you.
Until All are Free.

What it looks like to be antifascist in prison

 

Below is a statement written by Eric in October:

What does it look like to be antifascist in federal prison in 2017? It may not be what you think.

If you picture coming into the feds with your fist swinging, taking on every racist, swastika wearing trash you see, that is not a reality. That line of thinking will get us nowhere. Racism at the federal level is very real and played out in a very archaic way. At CCA Leavenworth I pictured going into ANY spot guns blazing, taking on bigots in a very macho, aggressive, violent way. At CCA that was actually somewhat doable, even at Englewood-FCI (low security) it was somewhat a reality because you could dog them out and clown them for their ridiculousness… the reality is though, that the higher up in custody you go and the further west coast you end up, the more serious the game gets and the less likely you are to be able to express your own antifascist ideas without facing some serious backlash.

Everything is racially divided here. Where you eat, when you work out, where you sit, what TV you watch, who cuts your hair, who you live with, who you play games with. For me this was super difficult at first because it felt like a betrayal of who I was. There isn’t any bucking this, it’s shitty and gross but it’s real and VERY serious. No one is going to make an exception and disrupt prison order for the one anti-racist. Having good politics doesn’t make you exceptional or above the others. Being antifascist doesn’t make you a teacher, a preacher, a savior, this horrendous system will not make room for our differing beliefs. You will hear all day long people bashing every race, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, and nationality, everything that isn’t white-American-straight-male. I had to learn very quickly how to bite my tongue. Calling people out will get you nowhere but hurt. If your beliefs and views are known, that provides more weapons for the maggots to use against you, and some will without a doubt use them. I got called up for this MANY times. I have the word ANTIFA tattooed on my face. I’ve had to learn how to NEVER take the bait, to keep your ideas to yourself and those you are close with. At the end of the day bro-ing out does less than taking conscious action. I’ve been very lucky that early on some old heads took a liking to me. It’s a very thin line between being tolerated and being battered. Screaming, “kill whitey!” and flipping off Trump, expressing yourself, these small things and big things will catch you some wreck, meaning these bigots will beat you off the yard. The other non-racist whites will NOT risk helping you, the other races won’t want to start a race war that gets hundreds hurt to help this one person. Then the folks that get hurt are the folks you are trying to support. There have been times where my ideas got me in a lot of trouble; very many confrontations and disciplining. We must learn how to walk that line of being true to yourself without putting yourself or others in a situation where you’re getting transferred, getting put in the hospital, put in the secure housing unit, or SHU. We will never end the fascism of and within the prison walls and system without dancing in the ashes of the prisons. You must keep yourself alive and safe, it is crucial to return to your loved ones and your community.

With all that said, there are always ways to be you, even if they are more coy or low key than you are used to or prefer. Sometimes just not laughing along to some racist bullshit or agreeing with a horrible comment can say more than any argument or fist could. I have through time found my own way to fight against the racist PSYOP system masterminded by the prison itself. I have found it is important to constantly be conscious and consider the consequences for others when taking actions. In prison with minimal effort your actions can start a race war. And your actions hurt the folks that you are trying to support. Being anti-fascist for me often looks like respectfully removing myself from any political conversation. Socializing and taking classes taught by folks of other races and allowing that to be a moment to connect and engage in dialogue. For me standing up can mean teaching yoga that includes all people. Sometimes offering a jacket or sweater or raising commissary funds for someone who is openly gay and being cast out and harassed is a stand that effects the entire dynamic of the unit. Sometimes it means having the ability to give basic supplies to non-racist white guys coming in so that they don’t have to take them from the white supremacists.  Sometimes it is playing games with other races. Or putting my ego and politics away and letting people of other races vent around me without trying to explain their anger or emotions to them. Being political and antifa does not give me space to try to be their teacher. I sit with Muslims in the library and have my political conversations there (a lot of whites do not like this). My partner drives up to visits with people of other races, forming that unity and solidarity. I recognize a lot of these things may not even be allowed at other spots, or may not even be a big deal at all, but here they allow me to make a big stand against the white race politics. I still read radical books and zines, but I do it in my room, where I do MY time, away from people who live on confrontations, who are addicted to static.

If you put yourself out there verbally, be prepared to stand on it (fight) because you will be challenged and if you’re lucky it’ll be one on one. Small things that happen instinctively can get you in a jam, so it’s smart to always be mindful. I’ve been in jams for laughing at sunken Navy ships, for watching soccer with the Mexicans, for letting a Gay-Black cat in my yoga class… the things that you do by nature may ruffle a lot of feathers, so we need to be prepared to get called into the cell and defend your actions.

The problems that society faces are magnified in prison. Racism, homophobia, violence, are all very accepted and normalized. Being antifascist in prison means putting yourself in a disruptive position. It can mean some lonely times, limited friendships and being isolated and disrespected. How you carry it is up to every individual person and situation. Keeping yourself self-safe is the number one priority. Doing your time and being true to yourself.

Eric would love to hear from you!
Write him at:
Eric King 27090045
FCI FLORENCE
FEDERAL CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION
PO BOX 6000
FLORENCE, CO  81226

“Not everyone makes it” a poem by Eric King

 

Not everyone makes it
Not everyone sees a date on the calender
as the second coming, as the first day of their life
Some never get that ressurection
We all do our part, and some of us get tied up
Maybe protested, bured something, broke something, freed something
We acted according to our conscious and got hit
and that fucking sucks, bad.
We have a privilege though, a privilege of having that date
The state fucked us and hurt us and we will never get that time back
and FUCK it hurts! We have stains that will never come clean
and ink on us that will never dry..Bday parties and anniversaries and deaths
Time doesn’t go in reverse and those moments can’t be re-lived
But…we have a future outside..
Some of the people who followed their hearts won’t make it out
20, 30, 40, 50 years captive..Being treated as subhuman
being disregarded as not worthy of love or life or respect
or god damn common decency
They age and become old, yet they are still beaten and robbed
of the dignity their will and spirit and existense deserves
The calender mocks them
and that gate will never show the compassion we deserpately how it will
It just won’t..
Some never make it out and we need to remember them
everytime we hit the streets, every protest we attend
When Herman gets beat we all need to feel those blows
and act accordingly
Everytime the pigs get away with murder we need to remember
that good, loving, brilliant, strong, compassionate people
walked their talk and put their lives on the line to end the barbarity
of the state, to raise their people up
and they carry that struggle everyday and we MUST help
lighten that load always..fight everyday to open that gate
Not with our will but with our action, with our bodies and minds
Until All are Free.