Angela Davis: erinevus redaktsioonide vahel

:Vanglapoe keskne tähendus tuleneb ilmajäetusest, mis on ametliku kontrolli ja autoriteedi tähtis element. Arestimajas õpid sa, et eeldada ei maksa mitte midagi; tavapärane vajaduste rahuldamise protsess on katkestatud. Sa ei saa eeldada, et isegi su kõige põhilisemad vajadused rahuldatud saavad. Iga asja küljes on konks. Kui sa pead end ülal nii, et provotseerid valvuri sind luku taha panema, kaotad sa õiguse käia vanglapoes. Kui sul sigarette ei ole, pead lihtsalt ilma läbi ajama. Oht vanglapoe külastusõigusest ilma jääda on vüimasvõimas negatiivne stiimul. (lk 50)

<!--* Once I felt settled in the main population, my thoughts naturally turned toward the possibility of collective political activity in jail. Many people are unaware of the fact that jail and prison are two entirely different institutions. People in prison have already been convicted. Jails are primarily for pretrial confinement, holding places until prisoners are either convicted or found innocent. More than half of the jail <!--lk 60/61-->population have never been convicted of anything, yet they languish these cells. Because the bail system is inherently biased in the favor of the relatively well-off, jails are disproportionately inhabited by the poor, who cannot afford the fee. The O.R. program— which allows one to be released without posting bond, on one’s own recognizance— is heavily tainted with racism. At least ninety-five percent of the women in the House of D׳ were either Black or Puerto Rican.

<!--* The more steeped in violence our environment became, the more determined my father and mother were that I, the first-born, learn that the battle of white against Black was not written into the nature of things. On the contrary, my mother always said, love had been ordained by God. White people’s hatred of us was neither natural nor eternal. She knew that whenever I answered the telephone and called to her, Mommy, a white lady wants to talk to you,” I was doing more than describing the curious drawl. Every time I said “white lady” or ״white man” anger clung to my words. My mother tried to erase the anger with reasonableness. Her experiences had included contacts with white people seriously committed to improving race relations. Though she had grown up in rural Alabama, she had become involved, as a college student, in anti-racist movements. She had worked to free the Scottsboro Boys and there had been whites— some of them Communists— in that struggle. Through her own political work, she had learned that it was possible for white people to walk out of their skin and respond with the integrity of human <!--lk 79/80-->beings. She tried hard to make her little girl— so full of hatred and confusion— see white people not so much as what they were as in terms of their potential. She did not want me to think of the guns hidden in drawers or the weeping black woman who had come screaming to our door for help, but of a future world of harmony and equality. I didn’t know what she was talking about.

* That summer in New York made me more more keenly sensitive to the segregation I had to face at home. Back home in Birmingham, on my first bus ride with my teen-aged cousin Snookie, I broke away from her and raced for my favorite place, directly behind the driver. At first, she tried to coax me out of the seat by cheerfully urging me to come with her to a <!--lk 82/83-->seat in the back. But I knew where I wanted to sit. When she insisted I had to get up, I wanted to know why. She didn't know how to explain it. I imagine the whites were amused at her dilemma, and the Black people were perhaps just a little embarrassed about their own acquiescence. My cousin was distraught; she was the center of attention and had no notion of what to do. In desperation she whispered in my ear that there was a toilet in the back and if we didn’t hurry she might have an accident. When we reached the back and I saw there was no toilet, I was angry not only because I had been tricked and lost my seat, but because I didn't know who or what to blame. (lk 82-83)