Standing strong against abuse in Missouri

On Tuesday, March 14, 2017 at or around 7:50 a.m. COII Cara Brashers said, “You can only wear one pair of boxers to the showers”. I became agitated telling her that I have been going to the shower with 2 pairs of boxers and a towel underneath tied around my waist since my arrival in housing unit #1 a year prior, as a way to protect my modesty from the gawking eyes of sick, twisted and demented voyeurs (staff as well as residents) who stand in their doors body lusting. I stepped back into my cell getting nowhere and complied. I began to walk quickly to the shower cell and they began to yank the tether (i.e. leash) attached to the handcuffs, “You need to slow down”. I explained that it was no reason to stop in the middle of the wing and could we process to the shower. “You can go back to your cell, mister”, and attempted to man handle me and force me to the ground. I wasn’t going to allow them to slam me on my face, so I politely walked them back up the stairs and asked, “So you’re going to treat me like this? You want to play games? We can play them.” They attempted to manhandle me again but weren’t successful.

I walked into my cell and placed my hands through the feeding port and one of the guards began to twist my hands and wrists violently. I snatched back and with my uncuffed hand held the tether and asked, “So ignorance is the only way to get some attention?”, and demanded to see the shift commander. While this was occurring the handcuff key was broken and lost, so they were in disarray. CO Postelwait attempted to swindle me into coming out of my cell. I agreed to give him the cuffs back. I took a 15 minute wash up in my sink. Afterwards I made Taubah, and prayer. The Functional Unit Manager, Troy Wade, began to bang on my door which has written on it, “In Prayer” and ruffed up without incident. All of my belongings were taken from me. To make matters worse, everything had mace on it.

I was made to stand naked in the strip cage while they contacted medical about me having my athletic supporter for my swollen groin and to be assessed. A contracted nurse came by the name of Jessica Williams who works for Corizon. I began to tell her that I was having an adverse effect to the gas and show the peeling skin and blisters on my hands and arms. I was refused medical treatment, boy oh boy, I had to smile to quell the anger because I was in no position to strike.

I was placed back in cell without it being cleaned. Gas and more was everywhere. Sink, toilet, walls, floor and my only place of salvation; the bunk.

Thirty minutes later I had an attorney visit. I was escorted up to the visiting room, smelling of mace and wheezing. My hand and arm felt weak for some reason too. I told my public defender, Brandon Swartz, whom I have already reported to the Office of the Chief of Disciplinary Council for providing ineffective assistance of counsel just sneering he said, “Yeah, I hear you just had a use of force.” I began to explain what occurred was unjustified, I was ignored.

So here I sit. I have a pad and pen courtesy of my young Kiwe comrade, and with the assistance of a person affiliated with the blood street tribe giving me toothpaste and toothbrush. Also a European brother, who’s the complete opposite of me gave brand new socks. All of this and more after countless hours of moving 3 twelve foot sandbags and a mattress from in front of my door, coupled with eluding the pigs.

As I sat, I looked past skin color, lightening bolts, tattoo blue and read flags, I seen something: UNITY. Despite of our differences, we had one thing in common. We were resistant to oppression in one way, shape or fashion. This was enough.

I don’t know if I’ll make it out of the hole, let along prison. One thing I do know is, I will not be treated like a slave and not resist. I will not be happily paraded around in nearly transparent underwear. I will not cower nor accept defeat. I will not, I will NOT!

I’m still alive and pushing. Kicking cuz I can’t stop, won’t stop. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. They’re attempting to break me. I may bend in the wind but I will never fold. Mojo of a simba. I am for the struggle, our struggle. Pumaja sisi Shinta! I shall not refuse my hand nor break my stride, this oath shall kill me. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Chulewa!