Abolition. Feminism. Now.
By Kwaneta Harris
Message from Kwaneta Harris regarding the censorship of this book and its review: “Thankfully, I already had the book Abolition. Feminism. Now. because I doubt the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ), our State Corrections agency, would approve it now. But that didn't stop them from doing everything one could and couldn't imagine over several months to stop this book review.
It began with the mailroom issuing me a Contraband/Correspondence form notification of sending an e-message of the review stating: "DENIED: CTR - Race Stuff." They mean CRT for Critical Race Theory. I then snail mailed several book review copies that were never received.
In solitary confinement, our Securus options are limited. I use the Sent feature to save all my reporting. Shortly after the denial, my book review and reporting related messages were all deleted. During lockdown, I hid the small book and review in a stack of free Washington Examiner magazines I keep as decoys and placed books with White authors' pictures face up. I paid neighbors for storing several books with handwritten copies of the book review. During triple digit temperatures without air conditioning, I continued to send copies via snail mail and Securus until one finally slipped through. This book was worth all the effort to encourage you to read it.”
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Abolition. Feminism. Now. was written by four well-known trailblazers: Angela Y. Davis, Gina Dent, Erica R. Meiners and Beth E. Richie, who have worked decades to shift international conversation from “Prison and Police Reform” to “Prison and Police Abolition.” This compact tripartite chapter book is a persuasive, feminist, collective call to immediate action for replacing all policing, prosecuting and punishment systems with safe, community-led supportive services and resources to prevent and address the root causes of harm.
Abolition feminists use a "both/and" analysis to name the slippery and sneaky shapeshifting of carceral violence: both that prison reform can lead to improved conditions for incarcerated people and expanded state violence. Prison reforms have historically been the Trojan Horse for expanding the global Prison Industrial Complex. This same reform trap in prisons can be seen in survivors' of color exposure to police.
For example, social scientists have now confirmed that poor women of color are more vulnerable to the harm of domestic violence and to harms of policing. This is evidenced by the "Best to Arrest" domestic violence policies which expanded to include both those experiencing harm and those doing the harm. These dual arrests were designed to incentivize those experiencing harm to leave. But this failed attempt only succeeded to contribute to women being the fastest-growing segment of the incarcerated population. As a result, poor women of color are vulnerable both to the harm of domestic violence and the harm of police policies to address domestic violence.
Ultimately, abolition feminists respond to this reform bind with a "both/and" analysis: Police and prisons must be abolished and current conditions must be improved in specific ways that do not proliferate harm or further empower the carceral state.
A masterpiece of writing and research, Abolition. Feminism. Now. unpacks the shared histories of feminists and abolitionists. This foundation is imperative to grasp. Abolition is building another world of survival in mutual aid, love and care work that the radical lineage of the queer community have been doing all along.
In the 1970's the Combahee River Collective, a coalition of Black female theorists and activists, said we have to organize from a point of "interlocking forms of oppression" — race, gender and class — to envision a goal of collective liberation. Collective liberation is impossible without the abolition of state-built institutions and state-sponsored identities.
I find the retelling of their histories pertinent for strategic reasons to avoid falling into institutional traps that lead to cooptation, like abolition became “defund the police” which ultimately became “increased police budgets.” The authors stress being mindful and vigilant to acknowledge Black LGBTQAI leaders working to create a world free of state and gender violence. They deliver a powerful, righteous scolding to society for failing to listen to Black queer feminists of the past, forewarning the consequences for over reliance on individualized punishment as the sole solution to social problems.
But what I found most instructive, essential and fascinating was the inclusion of our incarcerated folks’ common experiences. They exposed the cyclic through-line of gendered and state violence, continuing from the bedroom to the courtroom to the prison dayroom. For me, in the bedroom, I had to fight my partner who believed his experiences with racial discrimination and socioeconomic precarity gave him agency over my body. In the courtroom, I had to fight a behemoth system promoting a narrative of a hypersexual strong Black woman trope to cage me. In the prison dayroom, I had to fight to remain invisible to staff sexual predators who knew they would never face consequences for their misdeeds.
Alongside the data showing the carceral patriarchal system isn't a solution to violence, but a source, I'm validated and armed with this evidence as a script for answering commonly-accepted mythical rationales for increasing detention related funding. The false front of reform is revealed only as a way to help women become ensnared in a new abusive system.
Kwaneta Harris is an incarcerated writer in solitary confinement in Texas focusing on the intersection of race, gender and place. She focuses on illuminating how different incarceration is for women. She is working on a book about youth transferred to adult solitary confinement.