Solitary

“Many people wrote to me in prison over the years, asking me how I survived four decades in a single cell, locked down 23 hours a day. I turned my cell into a university, I wrote to them, a hall of debate, a law school. By taking a stand and not backing down, I told them. I believed in humanity, I said. I loved myself. The hopelessness, the claustrophobia, the brutality, the fear, I didn’t say.” 

Woodfox survived decades in solitary confinement by taking a principled stance, and fighting for something greater than himself—namely, an end to solitary confinement and unchecked racism in the justice system. This quote also highlights how books helped Woodfox and others escape the confines of their cell. Finally, it hints at one of the impacts of solitary confinement for Woodfox: in order to survive, he had to suppress his pain for fear of being overwhelmed by desperation and loss if he were to acknowledge it. 

“The only time I really had contact with white people was when we went to the French Quarter or to the shopping district on Canal Street. The first time I felt that a white person could be a threat to me I was standing at a bus stop at the corner of Dumaine and Villere with my mom when two white police officers drove by in a patrol car. She put her hand on my shoulder protectively and moved me behind her.” 

Early in the book, Woodfox establishes the disorientation of growing up Black in white America, which later serves to underscore his exploration of institutional racism in the justice system. In his childhood, segregation ensured that his interactions with white people were marked by disrespect—such as not being allowed to enter a department store—or danger, as is the case with the passing police car. This quote also highlights an element of Woodfox’s relationship with his mother—that she did her best to protect him, but given the twin pressures of racism and poverty, was ultimately unable to keep him safe.