How I Survived the 2009 Georgia General Assembly - Part 1: Drawing Class

This post is the first in a series in which I will share with you, dear reader, the little things that kept me from losing my marbles during the 2009 Georgia General Assembly. This is no small task mind you when you're a low-budget lobbyist whose constituency is in prison. This session, I really wanted to explore different ways to ease stress and minimize the misery that has always defined the legislative session and hopefully find ways to be happy and fulfilled even when I'm losing on a daily basis at the Gold Dome.

This first installment in the series is about the wonderful drawing class I took at Callanwolde thanks to the generosity of my wonderful Mom and Dad. Thanks guys!! I considered that it might be slightly crazy to commit to a weekly responsibility in the evenings when we work such long days - in heels, on marble - but I found myself anxiously awaiting Tuesday nights and being up to my elbows in charcoal. Taught by Marc Brotherton, those 3 hours each week were a complete escape from the politics and strategies, my buzzing blackberry and my ever-growing to-do list.

To draw, you have to actually look. You really have to look at whatever it is in front of you. Marc ran us through all sorts of exercises to help us develop our hand-charcoal coordination, starting with 15 and 30 second drawing drills and eventually doing longer studies of still lifes and live models. And my drawing abilities actually improved!

In the beginning, Marc showed us different techniques like the ones in these three drawings from my first class:


Mass gesture is broad marks used to create density and weight.


Scribble gesture uses scribble scrabble to show weight and density.


Contour line gesture shows the outline and other visible edges of an object.

In later classes we continued with the drills to practice, but also got to do some cool techniques like this charcoal paper - you color the page with the charcoal and then use your eraser to create the shapes and lighting:



In other classes we got to bring in objects from home to draw. Of course I brought my skull, a.k.a. "The Old Girl" (minus her usual Bedouin headdress, naturally):



I got to bring in my favorite water pitcher, also a gift from Mom and Dad:



In the final weeks of the class we had live models pose for us. This was the most challenging part of the class for me, but also the most rewarding. It takes such a long time to really see the body, to see skin and its variety on a single body.



One thing I really learned from this class was that drawing is all about practice. The importance of warming up and repetition cannot be underestimated, and after a certain point looking and translating onto paper came much more naturally. I also learned that I LOVE charcoal - love it - and I love India ink. Great fun, these tools.

Something I learned about myself is that the strategic part of my mind and the creative side compliment each other nicely. I often found that driving home from class I would figure out the next step or the perfect person that could help me accomplish the next day's goals that had previously been eluding me.

Thanks again to Mom and Dad for the gift of this class! And thanks Marc for being a great teacher. Stay tuned for more tales of survival in the coming days in this (hopefully) last week of the legislative session.

Prison Origami

One of may favorite things about the holidays is the variety of homemade Christmas greetings I receive from people in Georgia prisons. Some of the time, I don't even know the person sending them. It is extremely special to me that men with so little who don't know me but know my work make and send paper tidings with messages of gratitude. Today I got a great haul- a sweet little crayoned card, an origami reindeer and a paper tree:

The best part is the tree - so not to be crushed in the mail - came wrapped in a Little Debbie Strawberry Shortcake package from the prison commissary:


These simple gestures mean so much to me, and remind me why we do this and who we do it for.

Make Me An Instrument of Your Peace

I really didn't want to go to this Interfaith Prayer Vigil tonight. While I'm absolutely down with the cause, I'm not so much a church kind of girl. I kept questioning why I had to go and dreaming up different scenarios that would provide me an out.

Within the 30 minutes prior to me leaving to get to the service my bad attitude took over completely and I was a total jerk to my favorite person, taking out my frustration about having to go and the death penalty in general on him. It was after 1am where he was and he was bewildered yet patient with my rage. He has always handled my wild mood swings that mirror execution schedules better than anyone else.

It was strange that my outlook fell so far so fast; this weekend has been a good one for me. I have been more active and taking care of things in my life this weekend than any since my favorite person departed across the ocean and sand. I actually got some important life details in order and I was proud of myself for continuing to stay motivated and not succumbing to the couch and bad TV.

I drove the church feeling guilty for being shitty to someone I love and still dreading the doors I was about to enter. I plotted how I would sit in the back and leave before it was over.

But when I got there I was immediately greeted by women who I love and respect dearly and beyond them was a beautiful, age and ethnically diverse community. I sought out Mary Sinclair and sat down with her, our mini-SCHR contingent. The minute Rev. McDonald started talking I felt the weight lift from my shoulders and I immediately reached for my phone to text my sheepish apology to the one faraway who I had just mistreated.

There is something about being in churches that makes me let go a bit. It doesn't always happen, but when it does it's unmistakable and familiar. I remember sitting in a church at Berry College - it was after midnight and I was miserable and pacing the grounds and saw a window partially open. I pried it wider and squeezed through into the dark, empty chapel. I sat alone in a pew and cried, then shimmied back out the window feeling so much better.

Today it was a couple pieces that got to me. Denise and Etsumi, two Buddhist monks that I've known since my first days in Atlanta chanted - their drumming and throaty calls were like a cool compress. But it was when Rev. Morgan led us in the Prayer of St. Francis that my head fell to my chest and the tears started flowing.

I cried for Troy, for Martina and all their family. I cried for the family of the slain officer who want justice and healing so badly. I cried for Mary Sinclair next to me and the loss of her dear Lewis. I cried for my own foolishness, self-centeredness and inadequacies. I prayed with my friends, for the first time in a long time:

Lord, make us instruments of your peace;
where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Calling for a Strike for All Execution Staff- Refuse to Kill Troy Davis!

This morning, the day before Troy Anthony Davis is scheduled to be put to death by lethal injection, Georgians For Alternatives to the Death Penalty, the Georgia State Conference of the NAACP and fellow supporters gathered at the Georgia State Capitol for one last united stand to call for a halt to his execution. He is scheduled to be executed on September 23rd at 7:00pm at Georgia Diagnostics and Classifications Prison in Jackson, Georgia.

At the press conference, speakers appealed to the basic humanity of individuals who each play roles in executing Troy Davis, a possibly innocent man, from the nurses who prepare his IV injection, to the private medical company that gets paid $18,000 for each execution, to the warden of the prison that houses Georgia’s Death Row. Below are my remarks:

The execution of Troy Davis is immoral and wrong. Almost all of the witnesses against him have recanted. The courts and the parole board have failed to use their power to prevent this imminent miscarriage of justice.

However, Troy Davis' execution cannot take place unless human beings at the Georgia Diagnostic Prison make it happen. But they can refuse to kill Troy Davis!

WE CALL for a general strike or sick-out by all but a skeleton staff of the Georgia Diagnostic Prison on September 23rd. If you work on that day, you will enable the prison to carry out the execution of an innocent man. Remember your humanity!

We specifically call on Warden Hilton Hall to refuse to carry out the execution of Troy Davis, because he is innocent. Warden Hall, remember your humanity. Do not follow your orders. You have the power to stop this immoral execution. Use it!

We call on the prison nurses, who prepare the IV lines through which lethal chemicals will flow through Troy Davis' veins: Refuse to participate in the execution of Troy Davis, because he is innocent. You are human beings who have the power to stop this immoral execution. Your oath is to facilitate healing, not killing!

We call on Deputy Warden Henry Brooks to refuse to prepare the lethal injection drugs for injection into Troy Davis' veins. You have the power to disrupt this immoral execution. Remember your humanity and refuse to participate!!

We call on the prison guards who are assigned to strap Troy Davis to the lethal injection table: Refuse to carry out your tasks tomorrow! You have the power to stop this immoral execution. Call in sick!

We call on the members of the Injection Team: Strike! Do not follow your orders! Do not hit the buttons that start the flow of the lethal injection chemicals. If you refuse to participate, you make it that much harder for this immoral execution to be carried out.

We call on Dr. Carlo Musso, President of Rainbow Medical Associates, the organization contracted by the Georgia Department of Corrections to oversee executions to decline the estimated $18,000 that his firm receives per execution, and not allow ANY physician associated with his company to participate in the immoral execution of an innocent man, Troy Davis! Remember your humanity! Your oath is to facilitate healing, not killing!!

All of you are human beings with the power to refuse and resist participation in an immoral execution of an innocent man. We implore you to use this power, and use it tomorrow.

Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty (GFADP), Georgia’s umbrella coalition for organizations and individuals opposed to the death penalty. GFADP members will hold vigils across the state on September 23rd in protest of the scheduled execution. For information on these vigils, visit www.gfadp.org.

Outrageous. Awful.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
September 12, 2008, 5:30pm

Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty Condemn Parole Board’s Decision to Deny Clemency to Troy Davis

Atlanta – Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty (GFADP), Georgia’s umbrella coalition for organizations and individuals opposed to the death penalty, reacted to the decision by the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles to deny clemency to Troy Anthony Davis, even though seven of the nine witnesses against him have since recanted or changed their story. He is scheduled to be executed on September 23rd at 7:00pm at Georgia Diagnostics & Classifications Prison in Jackson, Georgia.

Said GFADP Chair, Sara Totonchi, “We are horrified and ashamed as Georgians to see our state revealing its bloodthirst by executing Troy Davis, when so many questions remain on whether or not he is innocent. Executing Troy Davis is callous, careless and irreversible. The state should be slowing down to address the well-documented, serious problems with a system that irreversibly takes human life, rather than rushing to carry out an execution of a possibly innocent man. This case is proof positive that the death penalty should be abolished.”

Please visit http://www.gfadp.org/ for updates on citizen actions in opposition to Troy Davis’ execution.

Do this right now.

Do it. Send a text to 90999 with the message "Troy" and a letter will be sent on your behalf to the Georgia Parole Board asking for mercy and clemency on behalf of Troy Davis, a possibly innocent man who has been on Georgia's death row for the last 18 years.

It's that easy to take action right now, thanks to the great work of Laura Moye and all at Amnesty International.

Earlier this evening, 850 people gathered at the Georgia State Capitol to call for justice for Troy Davis- 7 out of the 9 eyewitnesses who helped convict him have since recanted their testimony; there has been abundant evidence of police and prosecutorial misconduct.

Tomorrow morning the Parole Board will consider his case and sometime between now and his scheduled execution date of September 23 they will decide his fate.

One of the most amazing, chilling, beautiful and difficult moments of tonight's rally was while Martina Correia, Troy's amazing beautiful sister, was speaking, Troy called her cell from death row and spoke to all who were gathered about the need to keep fighting for justice, for all people in prison, not just him. He sounded hopeful and calm and spoke eloquently and forcefully.

Troy and Martina's strength amaze me. Despite all that is going on with her brother, Martina still managed to check in with me this week because she was worried about the well-being of someone we mutually care for who is locked up. Here is Martina was speaking about her brother's case at a rally in May:



Please also take a moment to send a letter on behalf of Jack Alderman, who is scheduled to be executed on Tuesday September 16th. The Parole Board denied him clemency without even allowing him a hearing. It is stunning, shocking, that Georgia would give the most severe, ultimate, permanent punishment without even hearing the condemned's appeal. Please send a letter to the Board asking at the very least for a hearing for Mr. Alderman.

Thanks so much, friends.

A Long Night at Jackson

Last night’s execution of Curtis Osborne was a particularly difficult one. Its strange to me how always on days after executions I feel so foggy and like I never quite wake up- perhaps a reaction to how surreal and awful the prison vigil experience is.

There were so many difficult facts to come to term with – most significantly how the state can move forward with the execution of a man who was represented by a lawyer who carried 600+ cases and a private practice at the time of his trial, not to mention referred to his client as a racial slur. Then the State took its sweet time in responding to the Curtis’ lawyers’ motion in the US Supreme Court; the execution was scheduled for 7pm yet their response rolled in well after that time.

We knew after the US Supreme Court issued their denial that Curtis’ life was limited to the next few moments, but it was over an hour before we heard anything else. That period of waiting is one of the worst that I’ve known in my life; the awful waiting and wondering about the person on the gurney and all the possible scenarios of what could be going wrong.

The best I can discern by combining information from multiple sources include the Georgia Department of Corrections and reporters who witnessed the execution, there were problems finding an appropriate vein for the injection as well as problems with the back-up IV. (Though the GDC is claiming that it was the first IV that killed him anyway. Nope, that doesn’t make sense to me either.)

This afternoon I called one of the reporters who witnessed last night. He had dreadfully misquoted me in a story that’s now been published all over the place and I wanted to follow-up with him about that. I also wanted to check in with him because I’m friendly with him, and I could tell last night that he was really shaken after watching for his first time the state killing a man. I was right; he was deeply bothered by the execution and said he didn’t sleep last night. So instead he wrote, which is something that I often find myself doing when I return from Jackson.

He sent me this piece that he wrote for his family to share what he experienced. The story he tells turns the stomach. He references Curtis’ expression and apparent fear at the time of his death as well as some facial movement after the time that I would think that paralysis should have kicked in. He told me that his mother called him this morning crying after she read his account.

Some of our interns that came along last night to the vigil commented on how weird the situation was- the contrast of the beautiful, peaceful grounds of the prison to the horror that was happening inside. I am often similarly struck.

We were joined last night at the vigil at Jackson by four members of Curtis’ family: his father Dennis, his sister Rhonda, and Rhonda’s husband and sister in law. My heart goes out to them. I can’t imagine how awful it was for them to stand and wait and wait and wait for word from the Court and then for word from the Prison. I’m grateful that they viewed us as safe people to spend that unimaginably difficult death-time with.

While I love and appreciate all the folks that usually come to the Jackson vigil, we are at best a dedicated but small group. I am so grateful for all who were there last night to visually illustrate to Curtis’ family that they were not alone in their mourning, sadness and outrage at his death at the hands of the state. Thank you for your hearts.

Ed Weir noted Curtis’ solidarity with the other guys on the Row by wanting his last meal to be the same as theirs. Mary Palmer Legare reminded us of Jerome Bowden’s last words before his execution: “I hope that by my execution being carried out, it will bring some light to this thing that is wrong."

As long as the State continues this futile and brutalizing exercise in vengeance we will take a public stand against this killing in our name.

Innocence Matters: Atlanta Rally for Troy Davis

Last Saturday, Amnesty International and the Georgia State Conference of the NAACP held a rally on the steps of the Georgia state capitol for Troy Anthony Davis.



Troy was convicted of murdering police officer Mark Allen MacPhail in Savannah in 1989 and has lived on Georgia's Death Row since then. Evidence in the case was scarce, and seven out of nine original witnesses have either recanted their statements. Amnesty International has put out an excellent report that covers these issues deeply: Where is the Justice for Me?

Earlier this year, the Georgia Supreme Court voted 4-3 to deny Davis's appeal for a new trial. Last summer, Troy came within 24 hours of death when the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles granted a stay of execution. I remember that day with horror; there is nothing more chilling to me than a system that allows the state to come so close to taking a person's life with so many doubts left hanging in the air. At the time, the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles stated that if there is any doubt about Troy Davis’ guilt, Georgia cannot proceed with the execution.

This past Saturday, we got to hear eloquent, emotional words from two death row exonerees Shujaa Graham and Daryl Hunt. What stood out to me this time was that both men discussed their own innocence less than I have previously heard, and instead focused more on how important their connection with their families and communities were while they were on death row. This is particularly relevant because of the role Troy's family, in particular his sister Martina Correia, has played in raising up his case to the international level.

Listen to Martina's words on Saturday, prepare to be wowed by her tireless, loving, beautiful spirit:



Here's death row exonoree Shujaa Graham speaking about his experience and family:



We anticipate another execution date being set for Troy. To take action on this case, send a letter through Amnesty to the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles. The Parole Board has the power to commute Troy's sentence to Life, which would keep alive the possibility of a new trial request. Currently, the courts have failed Troy and we have little hope that the judicial branch will stop the madness.

Sunsets

This is the sunset on the drive home from Georigia's Death Row shortly after the state put William Earl Lynd to death. This was the first execution in the nation since last month's Baze decision on lethal injection put an end to a 7 month stay on all executions. The death penalty system remains deeply broken, inaccurate, inffective and unfair.

Grizzly Bears and Ring Mistresses

On a couple different occasions lately I’ve seen programs about Alaska’s polar and grizzly bears. I learned that when they are ready to hibernate, they actually dig a den out of snow. I had always assumed that they found a pre-existing cave or something.

Both grizzlies and polar bears pick a spot and use their massive paws to shovel out a cocoon for them to lie in. As they sleep for the winter, the snow falls and covers their top side enveloping the bears completely. Eventually, they break through their shell and emerge skinny, hungry and eager into spring.

I felt like a grizzly bear waking up this morning.

I slept almost 15 hours last night- a huge feat for a girl who usually sleeps about 5 hours a night. I got home and dove under my down quilt, covered myself completely and slept instantly- also a rare occurrence. When I woke up I rubbed my eyes open (sealed by black eyeliner not snowflakes) I saw that my Cranberry, my inhaler and the remote were all in the exact same spot that I laid them, indicating that I slept all 15 hours without moving. My stomach growls loudly; I look in the mirror and note that I am a bit more pale than usual.

This is what the legislative session does to me. This week it was exacerbated by having to cope with being sick and not having the opportunity to rest and get well. I have been running nonstop for the last two weeks; I didn’t get to take more than a couple hours off last weekend. This is because one of our highest priority pieces of legislation was being considered in the House this week.

This issue is one that is defined by those who have spent far more years than I have struggling. Their work was to move to Georgia to a place where the State would fulfill Gideon’s 35 year-old promise and provide for poor peoples’ constitutional right to an attorney when accused of a crime.

We passed huge legislation to reform the public defender system in 2003, one of if not the most significant victory in my life. However now just five years later, we are faced with an indigent defense crisis complete with forces that want to destroy this good but young and struggling system by bankrupting it and tearing down its structure.

I’m moderately happy to share that they only got half as much of the bad stuff they wanted this week as a result of our efforts. The nature of my work is one that my victories are often defined less by outright wins like that of the new public defender system, but more often by successfully making horrible proposals slightly less horrible.

The coalition of people involved in this effort is unreal. High-powered, rich, white male lawyers, high-powered moderately rich, white male legislators, law professors, civil rights leaders, families of people whose lives have been deeply broken by the criminal justice system, my beautiful coworkers and me.

I find myself once again in the position I was in 5 years ago of conducting this out-of-tune, out-of-practice orchestra. Last time I was more of the stand-in substitute Conductor, like the one who would run rehearsals leading up to the big show while the real Conductor made out with the star violinist in the dressing room. This year though it’s come down to just me.

I think I’d rather be a Ring Mistress running a three-ring circus that certainly resembles the Legislature, though. The costume would be way better than a Conductor's. I’m thinking red sequins.

Anyway, in addition to learning about hibernation practices of Alaskan bears this week, I also learned the exact combination of over-the-counter drugs that will allow a sick person to stay on her feet and well enough to fight the Man (both her opposition and her supposed allies).

The recipe is a revolving cycle of Musinex D (the kind that you have to sign for behind the counter because it contains pseudoephedrine that can be used to make meth) every 10-12 hours, Sudafed every 3-4 hours, Advil as you need it (around 3-4 times a day) and a 2-3 packets of Emergen-C. I swear by this magical potion. I would not have gotten through this week without it.

So like a bear coming out of my slumber today, I yawned big and stretched big. I not only found that an Op Ed I had ghost-wrote was published on the front page of the Macon newspaper (Justice for Some is Not Justice at All), but that it is almost 60 degrees out! I woke from my sleep with a day of my own and it is Spring.

Time to go to the Vortex for a burger with Tiffani!

Fairy Godmothers and Godfathers

Sometimes I'm amazed at the incredible fortune I've had in my life. In particular, I'm amazed at some of the most incredible people I've been so lucky to know and call my friends.

Like Steve and Charlotta. Sitting in their home last night, feeling the warmth, history and character of all they are. Charlotta, the most loyal and dear friend you could ever dream of having- her love like a quilt, complicated and careful, sewn strong to keep you warm and safe against all odds. And Steve, the one who took a chance on an insecure 23 year old and opened doors in my world that I never dreamed possible. When I think about him in his element, particularly in the US Supreme Court, it brings tears of pride to my eyes and incredible humility to my heart. I still blush when I receive his messages of praise. I am hesitant to contemplate my sadness of the them ultimately leaving Atlanta.

And Sandy and Jack. Sandy's fearlessness and tenacity for all we believe in- unrelenting courage despite everything in opposition. Her strength, not yielding as she takes hit after hit so publicly from those who don't know yet that we are right. And Jack, whose experiences surpass my imagination who described to me tonight how they passed the law that made it illegal to execute mentally retarded people so many years ago. As he spoke of the conservative legislator who confessed that he had a challenged niece who would do anything anyone told her to do, he clenched his chest and tears crept up in his voice.

I am so moved by you all; I am so lucky.

I don't know what I did, but I am confident that I did something right to have these people, these opportunities in my world. I thank my lucky stars and fairy godmothers. And then I remember that two of my fairy godmothers are in fact, Charlotta and Sandy.

2007 in Photos

Taking a cue from Audacity, here is the 2007 review in photos.

January: The winter sky on the drive from Chicago back to Atlanta. I rode in the backseat and Reem and her BFF Sarah were my chauffeurs for the longest hitchhike in history.

February: Flying into Chicagoland

March: Springtime appears in Atlanta with the dogwoods blooming at Oakland Cemetery during my parents' visit.

April: The very first Blah Girl picture. Driving documentation begins.

May: Rain, wind, 800 cocktails, Irish music, kisses, bliss, 2 am in Savannah.

June: Spiderweb Houseleek on a trip with Dad to the Chicago Botanic Gardens.

June: Eek gets shaved and looks like an old man

July: Jamaican Sunset for Ela's birthday

July: Mica's Metalsome birthday

August: Troy Davis gets a Stay of Execution. We hold a press conference featuring exonorees Gary Drinkard, Darryl Hunt and survivor Jennifer Thomas Canino


September: Dad and I share another birthday party. Note the bite already taken out of the front of the delicious coconut cake.

October: Greatest Halloween party in Atlanta made perfect by the sister and brother plus 4 cousins.

November: Mom, Reem and I go back to Ireland.

December: Steve Bright argues Snyder v. Louisiana in the US Supreme Court. I marvel and choke back tears as he makes friends of Justices Scalia and Alito. One of the most amazing experiences of my life.

December: Christmas at the Hodi's with the Clan

Grateful for Dr. Joseph Lowery

Dr. Joseph Lowery is truly an amazing man. His leadership in the human and civil rights movement in the South began in the early 1950s in Mobile, Alabama when he helped lead the Montgomery Bus Boycott after Rosa Parks' arrest. He was great close friends with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and together they founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. At a quite respectable 86, he still spends his days struggling for justice and today's unpopular issues.

I just returned from a press conference that we put on with Dr. Lowery and the Georgia Coalition for the People’s Agenda about the indigent defense crisis and death penalty in Georgia. Dr. Lowery was joined by civil and human rights leaders in calling for the Fulton District Attorney to accept a plea to Life without the Possibility of Parole in the Brian Nichols case.

No one else has had the courage to step up and say these things until now in this notorious Atlanta case of the man who is to be tried for escaping from police custody and killing four people, including a judge on March 11, 2005. This case has become a nightmare in Georgia, with legislators threatening to defund the whole indigent defense system because they think Nichols’ defense is costing too much.

Dr. Lowery was fantastic. I shouldn’t expect any less; he could read my grocery list out loud and make it sound like justice. He spoke about how the civil rights movement has been consistent for decades in its response to the horrible murders that have traumatized their communities including include the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., the murder of Dr. King’s mother, the serial killings of the Atlanta Children, and the Olympic Bombing. He declared that a sentence of Life without the Possibility of Parole was acceptable for Dr. King’s killer, Wayne Williams and Eric Rudolph and it is also appropriate for Brian Nichols.

While he did not call Paul Howard out by name, he did say it was time for the prosecution to end the “tenure, turmoil and trauma” and accept defense’s offer of a plea to Life without the Possibility of Parole.

It was clear from the beginning that this would not be one of the most popular or supported press conferences held by Dr. Lowery. Despite the fact that the meeting room held about 60 people and was standing room only, when we started assembling for the press conference Dr. Lowery had to practically drag people up there to stand with him while he made his statement. He kept asking the people gathered “Y’all are gonna let me take this heat alone?”

People in the audience were palpably hesitant to move to the front. There were a handful of solid, brave folks who joined him from the start including Rainbow/PUSH, SCLC, NAACP State Conference and a couple legislators. I also stood with them. By then end of the conference we had at least 15 more people (which is about all that could fit in the small space we were in) and heads were nodding throughout the audience. A small miracle, but in this hostile, hopeless climate, a miracle nonetheless.

A funny thing that happened was as I was walking to join the group Dr. Lowery made a joke about how it was no longer a panel of esteemed black men but that they were adding “a woman of color, a Latina woman…” then trailed off stumbling a bit because he was unable to identify my ethnicity. He looked at me and said, “What is your ethnic background dear?” to which I replied, “I’m an Arab, sir.” He then exclaimed “Well we have esteemed black men and the PLO up here today!” And I knew he meant it in the most positive and Palestine solidarity way – that was a first!

At the end of the event as I was saying my thank you’s to the panel and I came to Dr. Lowery. He leaned in close to me and asked

“Are you Palestinian, dear?”
“No sir, my father is Iraqi.”

He shook his head and took my hands in his hands and said

“I am so, so sorry for what we have done to your loved ones and your beautiful country. My heart is broken for the Iraqi people.”
“Thank you so much, sir. My heart is broken too.”
“I am so, so sorry for what we have done. My heart is broken.”
"Thank you."

I’m so grateful for this amazing man.

Fighting for Life

I’m happy to share that this weekend I was elected to the Board of Directors for Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty. I’ve worked with GFADP for years, from struggling to stop the death penalty from being carried out (recent success for now is Troy Davis) but also standing with them during those horrible nights at the prison in Jackson while the State commits murder. For the last five years they have introduced and pushed resolutions that commission a study of Georgia’s death penalty and recommend a halt to executions during the time of the study. One of the reasons they brought me on at this time is because they are changing their legislative work to instead focus on measures that would reduce the likelihood of the death penalty being imposed- such as reforms of eyewitness identification and police interrogation procedures, as well as ensuring that our statewide public defender system is fully funded. This decision puts their policies directly in line with the work that I carry out.

In other criminal injustice news, Michael Vick has pled guilty, proving further that we condemn animal cruelty more so than violence against women, Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez resigns, and I get to have lunch with two of the top folks at the Georgia Bureau of Investigation- hilarious.

My Best Headline Ever

I'm having a big ol' YIKES moment- go see why at this article by the Associated French Press.

Since this is MY blog, I'll offer my $.02. For the record, I disagreed with her when she referred to me as an 'expert'- I am by no means an expert on sex offenders. I know a hell of a lot about Georgia's sex offender residency and employment restrictions, but thats where it ends. The reporter also failed to state at any point that what the French president was proposing was chemical castration- she just kept referring to "castration" which understandably I'm sure, was very shocking to me. And finally, she told me that this was just a background interview and I told her I didn't want to be quoted, but that I was happy to help her think through her story.

When I said the line that ultimately became the headline I couched it specifically as "Please don't print that- I don't want my mother calling and fussing at me about talking about penises to the media." I was of course joking, don't think my Mom would really mind considering she works for a urologist and all. I was just trying to make it clear to her that I didn't want to be quoted. And here we are: a whole article with multiple quotes from yours truly being syndicated around the world. Yikes.

Anyway, I had to clear the air, and now I can laugh at myself. Who else me would have this luck? Who else but me has to talk on this level at their work? I still think I make a good point. Yikes!

For fans of Cordele and Rome, Georgia

From the Cordele Dispatch: Ms. Juanita Jones realizes the crack she just bought is fake and calls the cops hoping they'll help her get her money back. Can you hear me sobbing? I suppose it's more like whimpering.

Reaffirming my Rome, GA pride, in much better news, the Rome News Tribune's Editorial Board has struck another blow against Georgia's draconian sex offender law. They reference the fact that the law renders almost all of Georgia unliveable for people on the registry, yet also makes it illegal to be homeless- with a first time penalty being 10-20 years in prison. For being caught homeless a second time, it requires a mandatory life in prison sentence.

The Rome Editorial Board refers to the law as "asinine... draconian, over-the-top, punishment after the price to society has already been paid" and then goes so far to compare the state of Georgia to the Taliban for this practice. Hilarious!

Jackson, Part 2

I almost had to stop in the middle of a yoga class this evening because I felt myself get so angry I wanted to just weep. I'm so angry at the State for its brutality. What the hell will killing a 63-year-old man with organic brain disease do for anyone? To hear a prison official tell the family "I'm sorry for your loss" was crazy - as if John had died of natural causes. And to see the four sons ask prison guards for permission to check in with the hearse driver, that they'd hired, before the hearse left the prison grounds with John's body was especially disturbing.

It's shameful. It's unbelievably brutal. The death penalty lessens us all; we become monsters. Death at the hands of State serves nothing- whether its bombs, starvation, or execution chambers. It makes me want to throw up.

Last Night at Jackson

Last night I made the familiar journey to Georgia Diagnostics & Classifications Prison (a.k.a. Death Row) because the State was scheduled to execute Mr. John Hightower- in my name. It is the 16th time I have stood outside the prison and the 16th person they have executed since 2001. In 2001, a five year halt to the death penalty in Georgia came to an end when they abolished the electric chair (as a result of our litigation) and thus resumed executions.

Not that anything good can ever happen at death row, but some things happened last night that I know will stay with me for a long time.

When we arrived, we had a small sized group- about 15 people. Two carloads of interns from the Capital Defender came down plus the usual folks who are down at every execution, with two strong absences: Mary Ruth and Ed Weir. The Weirs ran New Hope House for years, offering a home to families visiting their loved ones on death row. Mary Ruth passed away from cancer last December, and Ed is now on the road as an activist. I really miss them, in particular last night.

We proceeded to do the usual, standing with signs, setting up candles, talking to reporters. A little while later, Mary Sinclair arrived followed by 5-6 cars filled with Mr. Hightower's family members. In total, 20 of members of Mr. Hightower's family stood witness with us during the time of his execution. All four of his sons were there. 5 of his grandchildren were present; the two teenagers were extremely distraught and were consoled by their parents while the three little ones ran around and played as any child would. His son, Alonzo, showed me a picture that had been taken the day before of Mr. Hightower in his death row uniform smiling and surrounded by all of these people that he loved and that loved him back. An aunt shared with me that prior to coming to the prison that evening they had had dinner at New Hope House and got to speak on the phone with Mr. Hightower for two hours; they passed the phone around. She told me that he told them to keep it together and be strong, and that he had made peace with this a long time ago.

The media was being very persistent in trying to get a family member to comment- even thought we made it clear repeatedly that they were not interested. When the execution was over, his son Chris told the media again that he didn't want to comment. He was dealing with the hearse at the time and they still wouldn't leave him alone. When they continued to push him, he said "Here's our statement- We forgive the state for this murder." I nearly lost it at that point.

While I hate the reason we had to go to Jackson last night, I feel really honored to stand witness and in solidarity with such a brave and loving family. I also remain in awe and gratitude of my co-worker, Mary Sinclair for all she does for the families of people on death row. Her compassion, patience, and anger about how wrong the death penalty is seem to be exactly the right combination of characteristics that comfort the people in this terrible position. I am so fortunate to work with her.

I look forward to when we won't have to make the trek to Jackson.