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Kaba’s goddaughter asks her about Marissa Alexander, on whose behalf Kaba has helped to organize an activist campaign. Marissa has already endured years in jail and more time in house arrest, all for firing a gun into the air to frighten an abusive husband—no one was harmed. Kaba’s goddaughter asks what Kaba will do if Marissa returns to jail, an acute reminder of a very real possibility.
Around the same time that juries were about to announce the verdict for the police officer who killed 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Kaba contemplates the long history of anti-Black attitudes that permeate the criminal justice system. The experience of slavery in the United States helped to implant the idea that Black bodies are inferior and can be abused at will. According to Kaba, this makes it crucial to connect cases like Michael Brown and Marissa Alexander to call attention to the full scope of state violence against Black people.
Marissa Alexander agreed to a plea deal to return to her family as quickly as possible, but this does not change the fact that “the courts punished and criminalized her for surviving domestic violence, for saving her own life” (32). Kaba has never met Marissa Alexander, but for Kaba that does not matter—Alexander is a person who was unjustly targeted, and therefore someone must undertake the effort to set her free.
In 2004, a 16-year-old girl named Cyntoia Brown was tried and convicted as an adult for the murder of a man who had picked her up for sex, showed her his weapons collection, and then began acting violently toward her, until she shot him in self-defense. Many years later, the case eventually gained the attention of celebrities such as Rihanna and LeBron James. While it’s unclear why there was such a gap between the events of the case and their going public, Kaba says that the case epitomizes many problems with the criminal justice system. Brown’s turn to sex work is a common consequence for youth (especially people of color and queer and trans youth) who leave home and lack any other means of support. Noting that not all sex workers are victims of trafficking, or even coerced, Kaba recounts how some well-meaning advocates referred to Brown as a “sex slave” to make her more sympathetic. Kaba believes, for victims of the prison system, such labels “further marginalize them by silencing their voices and complexities in service of pursuing a perfect-victim narrative” (37). Those who fall outside such narratives, or resist such labels, are subjected to terrible abuse by the state claiming that they somehow deserved it for immoral behavior.
Other advocates emphasized Brown’s status as a 16-year-old at the time of the incident and therefore described her as a child, suggesting that adults (which Brown now is at the time of Kaba’s writing) are less sympathetic. Kaba believes these ways of framing Brown detract from the essential point, which is that people do not deserve to be abused by the justice system, whether or not the public is inclined to view them as good and innocent. It is simply unjust that women engaged in sex work are criminalized for protecting themselves, and convenient narratives are only an additional source of confinement. The solution, argues Kaba, is to give such girls autonomy over their own bodies and help foster conditions that spare them from violence.
Kaba comments to the interviewer that the public conversation on sexual harassment and sexual violence has progressed a great deal since her early days as a college activist, when it was limited to support among friends rather than a public campaign. This changed with the film The Accused (1988), which helped bring the idea of sexual violence into the public conversation, but still tending to focus on “a certain kind of survivor and a certain kind of crime” (42). Working with those who have been subjected to sexual harassment and violence can be overwhelming, especially with the sense that one cannot do anything to remedy their situation, but Kaba navigates this by thinking about collective efforts to relieve collective pain, rather than putting it all on the individual.
Another source of demoralization is the reliance on the criminal justice system, which can often cause as many problems for the survivor as the perpetrator. Yet the cultural expectation of justice in the courts is so strong that people still feel a sense of betrayal when the system reveals the cruelty at its core. Kaba states that no one can hold another accountable for what they do; instead, “they have to decide that this is wrong” and be willing to make amends (44). In this vein, Kaba questions the authenticity of any admission made when someone is under threat of jail time.
Kaba states that the goal is instead to “make interpersonal violence unthinkable” (45), noting that even putting a rapist behind bars does not solve the problem, especially if they themselves become rape victims in prison, as is often the case. There is not a simple dichotomy between predators and survivors, but rather a wide spectrum of potentially abusive situations involving all kinds of people, and so being a part of such a situation should not constitute a “totalizing identity” (46). According to Kaba, there should be consequences for abusive behavior, but punishment simply recreates the abuse without addressing the conditions that gave rise to the abusive behavior. While placing people in prison does not make anyone feel safer, developing networks of support within the community can help people heal and lead those responsible to take accountability for their actions.
In 1855, an enslaved woman named Celia killed her enslaver, who had raped her repeatedly and forced her to bear children. This took place in Missouri, which had laws on the books allowing women to use force in self-defense, but it was argued that as an enslaved person, Celia was only property, and she was tried, convicted, and hanged within six months. Kaba observes that Black women are still fighting for the right to defend themselves—such as Marissa Alexander, who was convicted of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon (which she owned legally) for firing a single warning shot to protect herself and newborn child from her abusive husband. Sentenced to 20 years in prison, she joined the ranks of incarcerated women who are disproportionately non-white and overwhelmingly victims of violence from an intimate partner. Many of those women are in prison because they tried to protect themselves or their children from violence, only for that to be treated as criminal behavior. Kaba states that this happens because the legal system does not see Black women as worthy of protection. She adds that freeing the countless women imprisoned for self-defense requires a direct confrontation with the “systemic and cultural issues that contribute to the criminalization of survival” for the women of marginalized communities (51).
In this part of the book, Kaba frequently relies on the power of an individual story to lend support to and elucidate her abolitionist views. She discusses the stories of Cyntoia Brown, Marissa Alexander, and the enslaved woman named Celia in order to illustrate how legal and political systems dehumanize Black people—Black women especially. Kaba knows as well as anyone the power of an individual story to help raise awareness of structural injustices, yet she is equally aware of its potential drawbacks. A story centered around a person can just as easily become about that person, rather than the sociopolitical issue they have come to represent. For example, Kaba refers to Larry Nassar’s criminal conviction to demonstrate how widespread public condemnation for the harm and injustice he caused ultimately misleads people into thinking that the criminal justice system is doing something right, an idea that Kaba strongly rejects.
Furthermore, a flaw in the person, real or perceived, can undermine the narrative in which they play a central part. Travyon Martin’s killer was acquitted by implanting the very suggestion that Martin’s presence as a Black boy in a gated community posed a potential threat. Floyd’s history of drug use was cited to claim that he could not have been an innocent victim, and that his violent restraint was necessary to keep him in check.
For Kaba, people should not have to be perfectly innocent in all respects in order to be victims of structural injustices. When people suffer at the hands of the state, it does not matter if they are good or bad, a child or an adult, whether they have a substance use disorder or have done sex work. As a human being, they have a right to a complex set of circumstances, some of which might be praiseworthy and others not. By citing these individual stories, Kaba is able to push back against the ingrained tendency to situate individuals into tropes of victimhood or criminality, thereby lending evidence to the claim of Part 2 that there are no perfect victims.
Kaba argues that such tropes ultimately produce a system that forgets and fundamentally contradicts the importance of Accountability Over Punishment. The current system is instead a primary method for enforcing a particular social hierarchy, protecting those deemed “respectable” or “proper” and ruthlessly punishing those who either violate or otherwise fall outside of prevailing social codes (50). The clash between victim and perpetrator is at best a zero-sum game between who comes off as more morally deserving, or else the state just swallows up both in its all-consuming cruelty. Hence, through her use of concrete examples, Kaba builds the case that the criminal justice system is not flawed because sympathetic people are unjustly convicted of a crime but because all human beings, whether one deems them good or bad, should not be punished because punishment is ultimately a form of violence.
Accountability, by contrast, is a much more fluid system that looks at all parties involved as both complex people and byproducts of social systems, whose actions are in one way or another contrary to social flourishing. While ensuring that the person who has caused harm no longer has the ability to harm others, an alternative system based on accountability would forgo punishment, thereby removing both a physical threat and a social stigma. Kaba articulates this system as one that divests from the logic of vengeance, and defends this system on the grounds that vengeance does not actually do anything to redress harm done. To garner understanding of and sympathy for the logic of accountability over the logic of vengeance, Kaba uses the first person to envision what victims of harm truly need:
I was hurt. Somebody did it. I want them to know that they did it. I want to see that they have some remorse for having done it, and I want to start a process by which they will ensure to themselves, at least, and be accountable to their community, for not doing it again (48).
By using the first person, Kaba encourages reflection on what it really means to redress harm and implies that punishment is merely a socially ingrained and impulsive desire to replicate the violence one has received.
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