CAGED (NO)BODIES: EXPLORING THE RACIALIZED AND GENDERED

POLITICS OF INCARCERATION OF BLACK WOMEN IN THE CANADIAN

PRISON SYSTEM

RAIMUNDA D. REECE

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES

IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS

FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

GRADUATE PROGRAM IN WOMEN'S STUDIES

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14-1 Canada Caged (No)Bodies: Exploring the Racialized and Gendered Politics of Incarceration of Black Women in the Canadian Prison System

By Raimunda (Rai) Reece

a dissertation submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies of York University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

© 2010

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ABSTRACT

In Canada, the adage 'too few to count' has relegated studies on incarcerated Black women to the margins of social science and sociological inquiry. Social justice initiatives investigating the lived experiences of incarcerated Black women in federal institutions have seldom been explored. This dissertation presents an integration and subsequent exploration into how incarceration has detrimentally affected the socio-economic status of

Black women in the 21st century. In our current local and global environment, the racial, economic, and political marginalization of women is a contributing factor related to the disproportionate numbers of incarcerated Black women.

This study uses ten qualitative interviews with incarcerated Black women in order to explore how social relations such as poverty, violence against women, racism and classism are historically connected to the contemporary over-representation of incarcerated Black women. This dissertation is 'ethnographically driven' (see Saleh-

Hanna, 2008). This project was designed in such a way that the analyses from the interviews support many of the theoretical frameworks argued in the research. As such, this work relies heavily on qualitative parameters as a means to support theoretical arguments. This dissertation is grounded in theory; however, it has also been designed to tell stories and/or narrative accounts that serve as micro-maquettes for exploring some of the conceptual arguments being put forth. This research draws on feminist theories of law, critical criminology, critical race and racism, and citizenship, in order to examine the social implications of incarceration and the Black woman body politic. Additionally, a move towards Canadian Black Feminist Criminology explores how theories of race and V

racism are explicitly connected to gendered incarceration and the social reproduction of citizenship and belonging; when situated in a Canadian context Black Feminist

Criminology is identified as a tool for future critical feminist criminological theorizing and social activist praxis. VI

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Writing a dissertation can feel daunting and isolating at times, refreshing and satisfying at other times. In the end, or the beginning, you hope that the words on the page translate and reflect the intellectual movement and moments in your head. The culmination of this work could not have been completed if not for the support of many people. However, before I acknowledge those on earth, I step outside of the politically correct boundaries of academia, risking ridicule and knowing side glances: I thank God for strength, patience and peace.

I am indebted to my dissertation supervisor, Dr. Tania Das Gupta for her insight, intellect, patience and the manner in which she encouraged me to stay the course. Thank you

Tania, for taking me on as a student on short notice, and without reservation; working with you has been truly pleasurable. I greatly appreciate the time and effort Dr. Livy A.

Visano has put into working with me over the years. Livy, your continual support in my academic endeavours has never wavered, and is much appreciated. Special thanks to Dr.

Andil Gosine for advice, continual editing offers and friendship. I am proud to call such an esteemed academic, my friend.

Thank you to Deborah Brock for supervisory duties during the proposal writing of this project; your advice helped shape the course of this work. I would like to thank Kelly

Blanchette, PhD (Director, Women Offender Research, Correctional Service of Canada) for helping me gain access to Grand Valley Institution for Women. Special thanks to all Vll

of the women whom I interviewed for this project. Your words have given depth to this work in a most profound way and I am grateful for all that you shared with me. Thank you to Giselle Dias, Trevor Gray and Maki Motapanyane for constant support and feedback during the writing process. To my family, and friends who are like family, your unconditional love and support during all the stages of my doctoral work has been invaluable and not gone unnoticed. Thank you to May Moore for unwavering support and consistent interest in my work. Thank you to Charmaine Hunter for encouragement, laughter and support. Mom and Dad, you have continually supported my academic endeavours over the years and I am grateful to you for late nights, encouraging words, check-ins and all that you do for me without hesitation. To Francis Ogbogu, my partner, my love, I thank you for continual support and your smile. To my beloved daughter

Shade Ego, my life changed for the better the moment we met; this work is for you. May you learn and grow and cultivate your own feminist activism, always from your heart. Vlll

DEDICATION

This work is dedicated to the countless women struggling for a better tomorrow

and

For Shade IX

CAGED BODIES

"Prison is frustration and anger so intense that cutting into the arteries of my own arm only alleviates some of the pain." (Prisoner at Prison for Women)

"One of the best programs here is the sexual abuse therapist, but there is a long waiting list. I don't know if my pain can wait." (Prisoner at Prison for Women)

"If my little brother had died in a big city in Ontario rather than on a reserve in Saskatchewan I know I would have been allowed to go to his funeral." (Aboriginal Prisoner at Prison for Women)

"Prison is being naked emotionally for the first time in your memory, with nowhere to hide... I build walls around my feelings and barricade my heart as best I can. I count my months, my days, until canteen, until lock-up, until release. I feel anxiety and deep depression sometimes when I look at the calendar. The world is farther away with every season. My survival here is all I have." (Prisoner at Prison for Women) X

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract iv Acknowledgments vi Dedication viii Caged Bodies ix Table of Contents x

CHAPTER 1 - INTRODUCTION: TWO HERSTORIES 1 Research Questions 6 More than a Numbers Game? 7 Organization of Dissertation 10

CHAPTER 2: UN/MAPPING CANADA'S COLONIAL HERSTORY: NATION- BUILDING AND THE MAKING OF CIVILIZATION 17 Making the Nation: Race, Gender, Law and the Location of Carceral Bodies 17 Getting In on a Temporary 'Pass' 38 Historical Informs Contemporary: Marie-Joseph Angelique's Legacy 50

CHAPTER 3: BEHIND THESE WALLS: A BRIEF HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF SOCIAL CONTROL 59 Theorizing Prison Construction and Punishment Ideals for Women 63 Sick Bodies: The Process of Becoming a 'Good Person' 69 (Re)Constructing Colonial Spaces for Women 73 Grand Valley Institution for Women 83 The Correctional Service of Canada: A Brief Overview 93

CHAPTER 4: CRISSCROSSING PATHS AND WORKING IT OUT: RACE, RACISM, RESEARCH, AND METHODOLOGIES 98 The Theoretical Framework/Theoretically Framing the 'work' 99 Limitations 102

CHAPTER 5: THIS SIDE OF THE RAZOR WIRE: MAPPING CANADIAN BLACK FEMINIST CRIMINOLOGY 108 Integrated Theory and Praxis: CRF informs CBFC 110 Theorizing Canadian Black Feminist Criminology 114 E/race-ing the Criminological Disciplinary Landscape 122 The Relevance of CBFC for Incarcerated Black Women 127

CHAPTER 6: INTERVIEWS WITH BLACK WOMEN IN PRISON 135 Theorizing Anti-racist Feminism and Incarceration 136 The Significance of CPBC for Rehabilitation and Reintegration Processes 151 XI

Relevant Programming for Black Women in Prison 168

CHAPTER 7: COMING FULL CIRCLE: CANADIAN BLACK FEMINIST CRIMINOLOGY AND FUTURE IMPLICATIONS 174 Reformation or Abolition? 189 Conclusion: Undressing the Emperor's Clothes 194

REFERENCES 197 APPENDIX A - REB Approval 222 APPENDIX B - NHQ Approval 223 APPENDIX C - Participant Poster 224 APPENDIX D - Informed consent 225 APPENDIX E - Interview Questions 228 CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION: TWO HERSTORIES

They placed the noose around her neck. Surrounding her, the audience - the people of Mont-Royal, modern day Old Montreal gathered on rue Saint-Paul to see the woman who had been accused and found guilty of burning their city. The gallows lay in waiting for its release; the public spectacle of torture; a once prominent city - a slave society, lay in ruins; the blood of hundreds who crossed the Black Atlantic entrenched in the soil upon which European feet stand and watch as her final breath left her body. She was dead. A broken neck, albeit graphic in depiction symbolized the transatlantic voyage that preceded her hanging. She had been killed before. When sold as a young Portuguese woman into slavery, she was already dead. When brought to the New World, she was already dead. She had died many times before and been re-born in the bowels of slavery.

Marie-Joseph Angelique represented the plight of many women before her. She was a

Black slave woman whose act of resistance sought some form of solace or autonomy in life, but not achieved possibly until her death.

This snapshot of a 'punishment ideal' as set out by Judge Pierre Raimbault, in accordance with the sentence handed down by the Conseil Superieur in the city of

Montreal was carried out on April 10, 1734. The story of Marie-Joseph Angelique, as eloquently told by Afua Cooper (2006) in her book The Hanging of Angelique: The

Untold Story of Canadian Slavery and the Burning of Old Montreal details the story of this Black slave woman who was accused, tried, and sentenced to death for setting fire to her owner's house and the subsequent burning of the city of Old Montreal. Cooper's book 2

is the first thorough account of this Canadian story. Her research weaves the often unacknowledged and negated story of a Canadian landscape littered with racism. As outlined in her book, Canada's polite face of racism and its treatment of racialized women can be historically and contemporarily contextualized. It is the story of "endorsed slavery" (A. Cooper, 2006) and of a history unaccounted for in terms of Canada's colonial past. It is important to conceptualize the extent to which the erasure of race and racism in legal dispositions has had detrimental effects for Black women in contact1 with a perceived impartial jurisprudence, and by extension, incarceration.

* * * *

On November 27th, 2007, at Grand Valley Institution for Women (GVI) located in Kitchener, Ontario, I met with Minister Sister Dinah. It was an unscheduled interview and one that I was hoping to secure, but not sure of how I was going to go about it. I had just finished a previous interview, when I was packing up my belongings and was about to exit the prison. On my way out, another woman introduced me to her, and I asked if we could chat for a minute. I wanted to take the time to explain my project to her and then let her mull over whether or not she might be interested in letting me interview her. Rather than mull over anything, she suggested that we move to the Quiet Room down one of the corridors where we could talk uninterrupted and in private. She was surprised when I told

1 I prefer to use the terminology in "contact with the law" rather than "conflict with the law" to elucidate that democratic ideals of law as neutral, impartial and equitable do not always operate in tandem with the ways in which racialized persons experience the legal system. 3

her that a few of the other women I interviewed had suggested that we meet. The other women felt that her story could enrich my analysis because of the high profile nature of her crime. I sat down to interview and had absolutely no idea who she was until she began to talk:

Minister Sister Dinah: My community has supported me since my crime; 'cuz

for those people who does know me especially people in Hamilton, everyone

knows me as a peace loving, kind hearted person. Nobody (interviewee emphasis)

expected this of me and when my charges was read out, I know the Black

community who knows me, everyone knew that woman had to have done

something to provoke me why I committed the crime I did. I'm the lady from

Chester Le (community housing project located in Scarborough) who chop the

woman hands off. I didn't intend to do that to her. I did not intend to kill her and I

thank God she's not dead, but I hope they get to see this was the anger that built

inside of me - my grief did turn to anger and rage especially when CAS

(Children's Aid Society) now got involved and came into the picture in such a

way where they helped to compound the problem. They need to look at their own

people 'cuz I've never left my children alone or abused them or anything like that.

So for these people to come into our lives, them the police, everything is so

centered on destroying us I don't think they understand the damage that they have

caused, they are causing and how it's going to affect them as a society. 4

It was at this point, mid-way through our interview that I realized with whom I had been speaking. I had read about Minister Sister Dinah years before when her very high profile case was all over the local Toronto news. I read about this horrendous act of violence perpetrated by a Black woman against a white woman. The impact of this crime shocked communities across the city of Toronto - a heinous act, reverberated discussions about race, class, ghetto life, women and crime. These categories may seem unrelated to one another, yet an intersectional theorizing indicates that they are not.

In this chapter, I began by presenting brief snapshots of two Black2 women, located at two different points in history, both incarcerated at one point in time. Why is it important to examine the historical connection and legacy between these two stories? And why are their stories relevant? Marie-Joseph Angelique and Minister Sister Dinah obviously never met. However, Angelique's historical legacy is connected to Minister

Sister Dinah's contemporary story. Both women were subject to spectacle and irreverence due to their seemingly disregard for societal civil rules of conduct and rules of law. It then becomes imperative that exploring the re-writing of herstories through a white gaze is critical to understanding the impact of white supremacy in legal decisions that affect

Black women's lives and thereafter. Much of Canadian history has been told and foretold by white founding fathers whose unquestioned narratives have been ideologically entrenched in history books, legal texts, and government policies. The result has been a reliance on the modern day rhetoric of multiculturalism and meritocracy as representative

2 In this work I will use the term 'Black women' to describe African/Caribbean women of that ancestry. In no way is this term meant to essentialize the bodies of Black women or their voice. For the purposes of this work the term 'Black' is used to make the articulation and understanding of the dialogue more cohesive for the reader. 5

of a fair and impartial justice system. Moreover, this modern day rhetoric is also grounded in notions of democracy and equal treatment of all Canadian citizens (Stasiulis,

2002). I call for an analysis that explores how historical racialized sex-gendered ideas have been keenly influential to the policing of particular bodies, specifically those relegated to the periphery of Canadian society. This is not to put forth an argument that resides outside of women's resistance and autonomy rather it is to point to the need to examine how in many cases the reproduction of racism is interconstituted in the racing of citizenship practices. I will explore this dynamic throughout this work in order to reveal the implications for the outcome for incarcerated Black women. This research argues that the incarceration of Black women in prison must be examined within the context of colonial histories in an effort to conceptualize the efficacy of rehabilitation programs for

Black women in prison. In addition, this thesis argues that the current rehabilitation programming available for federally sentenced Black women in Ontario is ineffective because colonial histories are not taken into account. This means that program delivery for incarcerated Black women does not provide the necessary tools for reintegration in their communities once released. Furthermore, in addition to stigma and discrimination due to their labelling as "criminal women", Black women in prison also experience racism and classism as a marked part of their everyday lived reality both inside and outside prison walls. 6

Research Questions

Analysis depicting the configuration of Black women's bodies as central factors in

Canadian nation building is undeveloped. In regard to incarceration and detention, the stories of Black women often rest on the periphery of our environments, if not excluded entirely. Much of the written, visual and/or verbal experiences of incarcerated Black women remains elusive in feminist criminological and theoretical study. In Canada, Black women and women of colour in prison are the silent forgotten population. This research has identified four specific theoretical questions of inquiry: Is Black women's incarceration connected to the social construction of nation-state formation in Canada?

What implications does this analysis present for rehabilitation processes for Black women upon their release from prison? Are attendant notions of citizenship and belonging key factors in the over-representation of Black women in prison? How does the racialization of Black women in prison impact scholar-activism and social justice perspectives?

Rather than dwelling on the criminal convictions of incarcerated Black women, these questions allow us to understand the significance and the impact of incarceration on

Black women. Critical analysis of feminist criminology and Black women's incarceration ought to explicitly involve discussions of colonialism and imperialism. In retrospect the legacy of colonial conquest connects with the legacy of socio-cultural exclusion, racism and citizenship rights for Black women in Canada. Evidence of this is seen in contemporary practices of over-policing, monitoring, and social exclusion in Canada where understandings of race, gender, class, dis/ability and sexuality flow out of colonial relations and structural ideologies. By exploring the divergent tenets of colonialism, 7

specifically the making of Canada as a white settler society, it is evident that the experiences of incarcerated Black women are connected to the historical ways in which racism and racialization were and still are central organizing features. While there is no one single axis from which to explore oppression, my underlying scope for this discussion focuses on the interconnectedness of citizenship and belonging, colonialism, and capitalism in the Canadian context.

More than a Numbers Game

In Canada, as of March 2006 there were approximately 909 women prisoners in the federal prison system. Of these women, 401 (44 percent) are incarcerated and 508 (56 percent) are on conditional release, serving the remainder of their sentences in the community (Correctional Service of Canada, 2006). Furthermore, approximately 19.1 percent of all incarcerated women are serving sentences for murder, many for killing an abusive spouse (Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies, 2001). The number of incarcerated women as compared to men is low (there are about 12,494 men in the federal prison system), and it is notable that the majority of women serving federal sentences (2 years or more) are incarcerated for non-violent offences (Bell, 2004). There are also disproportionate numbers of Aboriginal women in prison; Aboriginal women make up 22 percent of the federally sentenced women's population and the rate of incarceration for

Aboriginal women is 250 times the rate of the general population. Women prisoners in general, and Aboriginal women in particular, tend to be overclassified as maximum 8

security risks, making their movement within prisons limited and under constant surveillance.

In the province of Ontario, Black women are admitted to provincial custody at a rate almost seven times that of white women (Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry

Societies, 2004), yet there still has not been substantial research or activist interest regarding the incarceration of Black women. Some may argue that the lack of interest is due to Black women's relatively low numbers overall in prison compared to their white counterparts. Yet, at the Vanier Correctional Centre for Women, admissions of Black women increased 630 percent over the six years between 1986/87 and 1992/93. The comparable figure for white women was 59 percent (Council of Elizabeth Fry Societies of

Ontario, 2003). According to Sinclair and Boe (2002), between the years 1981 and 2002 the numbers of Black women incarcerated increased from 1 percent to 6 percent over the twenty-two-year period3 with the greatest consecutive increase occurring between 1989

(10) and 1990 (25). In 2001, Black women accounted for 52 percent (346,150) of the total

Black population (662,210) and less than 2 percent of the overall population in Canada

(Statistics Canada, 2007).

The International Centre for Prison Studies at King's College in London has noted the following: as of June 8th, 2008 the United States of America had 2,310,984 behind bars has noted the following; the United States of America has the largest documented prison population in the world, at a rate of 760 per 100,000 of the national population;

3 Sinclair and Boe's analysis state that there was an increase in Black women being incarcerated from 1981 (1 percent) to 1989 (4 percent), increasing in 1990 (8 percent), and remaining relatively stable to 1995 (7 percent). From 1996 there was a significant increase to 12 percent subsequently followed by a decrease thereafter to 6 percent in 2002. 9

and of this prison population, women make up 9.0 percent (Prison Brief for the United

States of America, n.d). Moreover, the United States of America ranked 20 out of the top

196 countries with the highest rate of incarceration for women. Comparably as of March

31st 2008, Canada had a prison population of 38,348 persons behind bars, or a rate of 116 per 100,000 of the national population (Prison Brief for Canada, n.d.). Of this proportion of prisoners, 5.0 percent were women. Of the national prison population including both men and women, Canada ranks 43rd out of 218 countries with the highest prison populations (Prison Brief for Canada, n.d.). In terms of racial statistics according to the

Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies, Blacks in Canada make up 2% of the population, but account for 7% of the Canadian prison population. We make this link with

North American incarceration processes in an effort to demonstrate that this issue is not unique to Canada. It then becomes critical to contextualize the ways in which the historical premise of the prison as rehabilitation site for wayward women becomes the racialized space for policing and profiling the bodies of women of colour. This has resulted in a political, classed, gendered, and raced frenzy that is mapped onto the bodies of women of colour - beginning with overpolicing and/or lack of police response, and ending with surveillance and incarceration. In order to arrive at a research methodology that addresses racialization and gender, I explore the efficacy of a number of critical research practices as utilized in this work.

Given that those who are incarcerated are being held primarily for drug related

(See Sudbury, 2005) and non-violent charges (see Bell, 2004), I would be remiss in our analysis to not examine the glaringness of this disproportionality and ground our account 10

in the historiography of Canadian nationalism. Accordingly, the narratives of Black women doing time are germane to this research and theoretically centering their voices is critical to Black feminist criminological discussions.

Organization of Dissertation4

Research on incarcerated Black women in the United States is extensive (see A.

Y. Davis 2002; Crenshaw, 1989; Butler, 1997; Rafter, 1990). In Canada, previous research has explored how the rise of state agencies such as the police, the courts and prisons geared towards regulation was a critical factor in modern state formation (Strange and Loo, 1997, p. 5). The policing of bodies of colour in the formation of Canadian settler capitalist societies has often been documented (see McCalla and Satzewich, 2002; Fleras and Elliot, 1996; Calliste, 1996; Kline, 1990). More specifically, Samuelson and

Monture-Angus have argued that "the colonial nature of policing was indeed key to the relations between Aboriginal Peoples and the state" (2002, p. 160). However, little research has been done in the area of incarcerated Black women within the Canadian context.

Although Shoshana Pollack (2000) and Karlene Faith (1993) have through their research illuminated the disproportionate numbers of federally incarcerated Black

4 Note. Portions of this dissertation have been published from "Outside women inside: Defining deviance, incarcerating "race" and sexuality," by R. Reece, 2005, Law and Criminal Justice: A Critical Inquiry, pp. 231-248. Copyright 2005 by Copyright Holder. Reprinted with permission. "Canadian Black feminist thought and scholar-activist praxis," by R. Reece, 2007, Theorizing empowerment: Canadian perspectives on Black feminist thought, pp. 266-284. Copyright 2007 by Copyright Holder. Reprinted with permission. "Feminist theorizing on race and racism," by R. Reece, 2009, Feminist issues: Race, class, and sexuality, pp. 87-109. Copyright 2009 by Copyright Holder. Reprinted with permission. 11

women, their work has not conceptualized the historically specific connotations of

Canadian nation-state building, the construction of Canadian citizenship via the confluence of justice and punishment. Subsequent readings and research in the area of race, gender, law, and justice, notably, the work of Comack (2000), Chesney-Lind (2006),

Shaw (1994), Razack (1991, 2002), Sudbury (2002), and Wing (2003) has been influential to the development of my research. Their work has highlighted how race, gender and class are constituted through socially produced understandings of legal discourse. Their work has also drawn attention to exclusions evident in the theoretical and practical applications of traditional feminist criminology. I have also relied on literature about Aboriginal women, nation, and the law in order to historicize the impact of racism for incarcerated Black women. Here is where my research builds upon the work of and departs from the above theorists. I use this literature as a starting point of reference for my research; however my goal is to build upon this work in order to contextualize the contemporary politics of incarceration for Black women. I argue that colonial histories for example of violence against women, racism, and poverty are shared colonial histories between Aboriginal and Black women. The historical ways in which cultural genocide was perpetuated against Aboriginal women informs our understanding of the ways in which racism and classism affects incarcerated Black women. Theoretically, this work presents an analysis of how the construction of nation has implications for which bodies are able to participate in the project of nation building. Moreover, my dissertation has been organized to look at the ways in which historical processes have informed contemporary thinking about crime and punishment in Canada in relation to the 12

confinement of Black women, and by extension how incarceration literally and figuratively defines one's ideas about citizenship and belonging. By primarily leaning on the qualitative narratives of incarcerated Black women, the goal is to present an ethnographic account of the experiences that Black women in prison experience. In order to understand their stories, theories of race and racism, feminism, law and penology, anti- racist theories, and methodologies are used to contextualize the interviews. This work continually makes reference to the overarching theme of citizenship and belonging and how historical and contemporary ideas around the construction of nation and women are entangled with these ideas. This discussion is relevant for exploring contemporary discourses of scholar-activism, prison reform, abolition, and reintegration and rehabilitation perspectives. The culmination of this discussion is a move towards a new field of inquiry known as Canadian Black Feminist Criminology.

My dissertation departs from the traditional template in which many theses are written. My work presents qualitative interviews and the literature review cushioned throughout the thesis as opposed to localized in one or two particular chapters. The use of ethnography in this dissertation is influenced by the work of Viviane Saleh-Hanna's

(2008) groundbreaking work Colonial Systems of Control: Criminal Justice in Nigeria. In this work, Saleh-Hanna introduces readers to what she terms a "modified ethnographic method" where first hand experiences of incarceration are told from beginning to end as opposed to in "shortened quotes". The scope of my dissertation does not allow for entire chapters to be reserved for each individual narrative to be told, as is the case with her work - that project will hopefully come at a later date. However, the importance of Saleh- 13

Hanna's argument cannot be understated - that ethnographic narratives provide the congealing force that binds this project together. As such, this project has sought to create a space whereby the experiences and narratives of incarcerated women are heavily relied upon. In order to do this, I weave the un-edited5 narratives of Black women throughout this work as a sort of connective thread in which to present continuity in this body of work, and to keep the voices of Black women constantly at the forefront. In conjunction with this, I view this process as two-fold. First, prisoners are the experts on their lives, and as such are in the best position to tell and contextualize their experiences (see Saleh-

Hanna, 2008; Rowley, 2005). Second, an ethnographic dissertation also calls for the researcher to fully immerse and locate herself/himself in the nexus of insider/outsider tensions when conducting fieldwork, but also with the self-reflexive process of doing fieldwork (see Chapter 4 for a more in-depth analysis). For me, this research has been more than dogmatic fieldwork; it has also been about enacting a critical engagement with de-colonizing anti-racist research methods. My goal as an activist-scholar lends myself to my research; much of the work that I do outside of academe is prison related as well. As an anti-prison activist, the importance of this underscores the point that self-reflexive knowledge is constantly in a state of flux.

My self-reflexive knowledge is also connected to readings on race6 and racism, and how best to use these approaches in my theoretical analysis. However, Das Gupta

5 In translating the interviews that I conducted with women in prison, I have purposely not edited them for grammar or syntax errors in order to keep the authenticity of their narratives. 6 In this research it should be understood that the concept of race is socially constructed. Therefore, throughout this work I have not placed quotation marks around the term. I grapple with the use value of the concept of race, aware that as a social construction the term is often reified, and made to seem real. As such, is my use of the concept in this work, yet another reformation and reification of the term? In order to work 14

(2009, p. 16) explains that while the use of the term may seem contradictory, in order to theorize and make real the reality of racism, the language of "race" and "race talk" is called for. In this work, I follow her lead, keenly aware that my use of the concept may be problematic, yet intrinsic to an analysis of racism as experienced by incarcerated Black women.

In Chapter 1,1 began with the stories of two women, located differentially due to space and time. Yet the historical and contemporary connections in regard to race, belonging and punishment between these two women, calls into question much theoretical and practical debate about class, location, gender and race. My aim in this chapter is to begin to theorize about the political and social dimensions that affect incarcerated Black women in Canadian society. Further, the intent of this chapter is to briefly highlight some of the literature and quantitative evidence that support forthcoming arguments in this work.

Chapter 2 introduces the reader to some of the racialized and gendered processes implicit in the formation of Canadian nation-state building. I explore theoretical questions of social inadequacy and boundaries, in order to demonstrate how Aboriginal and Black women in Canada share histories of colonial oppression.

In chapter 3,1 examine how historical experiences of nation building are manifested in contemporary social control practices surrounding punishment ideals for

within this confine, I reason that although the concept of race is socially constructed, racism is not. The reality of racism, and the process of racialization, structural inequality and oppression are predicated on the idea that race is real (Das Gupta, 2009, p. 15). Scholars such as Miles and Torres (1996) as cited in Das Gupta (2009) have argued that the term should never be used as a theoretical concept. See T. Das Gupta, See T. Das Gupta, Real nurses and others: Racism in nursing (Halifax: Fernwood Publishing, 2009). 15

women. This chapter also provides a brief description of the Correctional Service of

Canada as well as an overview of the history of women's incarceration in Canada.

Chapter 4 works out some of the tensions that can arise when doing qualitative research. This chapter explores how de-colonizing and anti-racist research methodologies are critical to identity politics for both researcher and research participant. Can these tensions ever be resolved? Furthermore, how can anti-racist approaches and methodologies aid us in contextualizing the experiences of incarcerated Black women?

The goal of chapter 5 is to bridge the qualitative gap between Black feminist thought and critical feminist criminology ultimately culminating in a new field of inquiry that I call Canadian Black Feminist Criminology (CBFC). Canadian Black Feminist

Criminology focuses on the intersection of race, class, gender, law by centering the experiences of incarcerated Black women in Canada. Specifically work by Kimberly

Crenshaw (1999) has been influential to this analysis. Crenshaw notes the lack of intersectionality inclusion in feminist theory and law, and further argues for anti-racist theory and practice to be included in all levels of judicial legislation and administration. I further this claim by theorizing citizenship and belonging, and activism as critical factors in this analysis.

Although the interviews of Black women in prison are woven throughout this project, chapter 6 presents a closer look at two key themes that emerged from the interviews. I argue that the location from which incarcerated Black women speak is fluid and therefore Canadian Black feminist criminological theories, research, and praxis ought to take into account this multi-vocality. 16

Finally, chapter 7 revisits the theoretical framework of Canadian Black Feminist

Criminology. Based on the aforementioned chapters, this final chapter brings full circle the analysis that the preceding chapters have outlined and the necessity for this new field of inquiry. This chapter seeks to bring to the forefront the connection between and among

Canadian Black feminist criminology and scholar-activism. In addition, this final chapter explores some of the debates surrounding the abolition and reformation.

For now, in order to further contextualize how the efficacy of racism has affected the lived experience of incarcerated Black women, it is important to ground this analysis in experiences of racism and oppression as targeted towards Aboriginal women. The purpose of the next chapter is to provide a context for understanding how some of the contemporary issues that abound in feminist criminological theory are connected to the historical racist treatment of Aboriginal and Black women. The historical treatment of these two groups of women draws parallels that have seldom been analyzed and provides an opportunity to explore how the social location and marginal status of racialized women in general, and Aboriginal and Black women in particular, warrants further discussion in contemporary penology studies. I explore this analysis in order to elucidate how Canada's colonial history as targeted towards racialized women has historical and contemporary resonance, particularly since Aboriginal and Black women are disproportionately represented in Canadian prisons. 17

CHAPTER 2

UN/MAPPING CANADA'S COLONIAL HERSTORY: NATION-BUILDING AND THE MAKING OF CIVILIZATION

A Canadian citizen is a person who possesses Canadian citizenship by birth or through the naturalization process under the Canadian Citizenship Act. The Citizenship Act specifically provides that a naturalized citizen is entitled to all the rights, powers and privileges, and is subject to all the obligations, duties and liabilities, of a citizen who was born in Canada. The Act further states that a Canadian citizen by naturalization has the same status as a Canadian citizen by birth.

Young (1997/1998)

Making the Nation: Race, Gender, Law and the Location of Carceral Bodies

In order to conceptualize how Canadian nation-state building intersects with ideas of citizenship and belonging, I first will first examine how the construction of Canadian citizenship via the confluence of justice and punishment ideals has affected the treatment and resultant societal position of Black women in Canada. Canada has long since ignored its role in forms of "national violence" (Oikawa, 2002/2005). This kind of state- sanctioned violence involves consent and participation from the nation's citizens. The reinforcement of who does not belong (for example: non-status persons and/or persons with criminal records) is legislated and carried out by politicians and the state and the 18

power politics of the white bourgeois have set out the ruling ideas to be socially adhered to7.

Contemporarily, the residual effects of colonization have also affected the treatment of Black women in Canada as evidenced through immigration and labour policies, and employment ghettoization. What we seek to move forward with here is a shift in our conceptual framework to examining citizenship not only in terms of relations among individuals, borders, and international markets, but also to examine citizenship as a site of inequality and exclusion (Stasiulis, 2002). Therefore, I explore how the racialized and gendered nature of colonial conquest reveals the interconnectedness of present-day processes of social exclusion and un-belonging. It is critical that a contemporary re­ reading of Aboriginal and Black history be done from the perspective of Aboriginals and

Blacks, not through neo-colonial discourse, in order to de-mystify stereotypical imagery and ideologies about Aboriginal and Black communities.

Verena Stolcke (1995) explores the ways in which Black and Aboriginal women were omitted from the formation of colonial society during the conquest of the Americas.

She argues that the conquest is often told from a male perspective and this renders Black and Aboriginal women invisible. Part of this invisibility is the omission of discussion

7 Historically, the transnational slave trade across the Atlantic provides a very clear example of how international colonial projects shaped the lives of the colonizer and the colonized. Pieterse argues that the "transatlantic slave trade marked a clash between divergent cultural traditions and concepts of slavery - African slavery, Iberian slavery and the slavery practiced by northern Europeans" (p. 45) and that although slavery happened outside of Europe, it was synonymous with capital growth in Europe. This capital growth depended on slave labour, and the depiction of Black slaves as inferior. As the benefits were being reaped by colonial powers, notions of the justification of slavery were becoming apparent. For example, although the Dutch began to question the justification for slavery, it didn't necessarily mean emancipation for the Black slave. Citizenship and equality were not the platforms from which the lives of slaves were understood. Pieterse further argues that abolition was not a deterrent from racism; rather abolition coincided with the rise of racism. See Jan Nederveen Pieterse White on black: Images of Africa and blacks in Western popular culture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992). 19

around racism, sexual abuse, and violence. Stolcke explores how sexual assaults against

Black and Aboriginal women altered the relationships between Aboriginal men and women into relationships of domination. This is similar to what Winona Stevenson

(1999) argues in her discussions concerning Aboriginal women. Stolcke's analysis examines how "conceptualizations of society and race brought from Europe were diffused by colonial elites in the Americas" (1995, p. 9). Although Stolcke doesn't specifically define how she is using the term culture in her essay, she questions the ways in which colonial processes transformed cultural values. The transformation of Aboriginal culture by colonists amounted to the eradication of matrilineal systems of governance that empowered Aboriginal women. Prior to European conquest Aboriginal women had decision-making power and control over their lives, and this was eroded and ultimately destroyed through colonial processes.

European conquest8 and 'discovery' shaped the lives of Aboriginal and Black people in Canada. Beginning with the former group, history has presented stereotypes of

Aboriginal peoples as savage, bestial, and uncivilized. Since history is written by the powerful, discursive racial characterizations of categories such as "Indian" and "Other" were constructed to disenfranchise and inferiorize Aboriginal people. These categories

8 Afua Cooper discusses how at the advent of securing Africans as slaves from West Africa, colonists used Aboriginals as allies in capturing slaves. In some cases the Iroquois captured Black slaves from the English and sold them to French settlers in Canada and both Black slaves and Aboriginal people worked the fur trade (p. 73-74). Cooper explains that in Montreal, a burgeoning slave economy meant that French colonists could also give away slave children as gifts as the expendability of Black women's bodies denied access to motherhood. Although beyond the scope of my work, this exploration also warrants an examination of elite members of the Mohawk nation who owned Black slaves in Canada. See A. Cooper The Hanging of Angelique: The Untold Story of Canadian Slavery and the Burning of Montreal (Toronto: Harper Perennial, 2006), as well as Native Americans who owned Black slaves in the United States. See b. hooks Black looks: race and representation (Toronto: Between the Lines, 1992). 20

lay the foundation in which to construct Canada as a nation of "moral" and "civilized" persons. Aboriginals were positioned as contravening the tenets of morality and therefore as inappropriate bodies to take part in the building of Canada as a sovereign, white,

"moral" nation (McCalla and Satzewich, 2002). Contemporary theorizing regarding the situation of Aboriginal justice in Canada remains a prominent issue today. The continued subordination of Aboriginal women in Canadian society is deeply connected to

Aboriginal's struggles for sovereignty and citizenship rights today. There has been much documentation about the disproportionate numbers of Aboriginal women in contact with

Canadian law (Kline, 1990; Fiske, 1991). Works by Winona Stevenson (1999) and Bonita

Lawrence (2002) investigate how colonization has been normalized at the expense of

Aboriginal communities. For example, the creation of residential schools and the resultant trauma experienced by Aboriginal families from that period in time, is contemporarily either eclipsed in Canadian history books, or minimized in accordance with the tragic reality of what actually took place. Stereotypical derogatory images of Aboriginal women have historically been wound up in the judicial discourse of imprisonment9. Patricia

Monture-Okanee (1992) has argued that although Aboriginal women are overrepresented in the criminal justice system they are also underrepresented10. The systemic exclusion of

9 Moreover, the Canadian State can be criticized for inherent racist practices when it comes to statutory obligations. For example, the 1876 Indian Act defined "Indian" through paternalistic means. An Aboriginal woman could only remain "Indian" if she married a registered "Indian" man. See W. Stevenson, 'Colonialism and Aboriginal women in Canada' in E. Dua and A. Robertson , eds., Scratching the surface: Canadian anti-racist feminist thought (Toronto: women's Press, 1999) 49-80. The Act eroded traditional rights that Aboriginal women had, and rendered them invisible. Such an example is demonstrative of the kind of racist discourse that subjugates Aboriginal women. If Aboriginal women had no status under Canadian law as citizens, how then were they to receive judicial impartiality? 10 Patricia Monture-Okanee calls for Aboriginal justice to be a central part of the Canadian Justice system. With the exception of the Okimaw Ochi Aboriginal Healing Lodge, in Saskatchewan, the Canadian justice system has failed Aboriginal women. See P.A. Monture-Okanee, 'The roles and responsibilities of 21

Aboriginal representation, whether that is lawyers, judges, correctional workers or police

officers, is systematic of instances of institutional racism and practice.

Slavery in Canada was an accepted legal institution operating from 1628 to 1833

(A. Cooper, 2006) when it was abolished, and was formally acknowledged through Royal

Proclamations beginning in Quebec in 1689 continuing until the 19th century (Johnson,

1983). The first Blacks were brought into Nova Scotia for labour purposes and many

worked as indentured slaves in part due to the fact that colonists in New France wanted

Black slaves, whom they viewed as sturdier for treacherous labour (A. Cooper, 2006).

Canada's colonial history has dismissed and even ideologically hidden the fact that

although "Canada might not have been a slave society - that is, a society whose economy

was based on slavery [...] it was a society with slaves" (A. Cooper, 2006, p. 68).

According to Cooper, (2006), Canada's administrative and political elites used their power and influence to procure slaves from Africa into Canada. In fact, it has been

recorded that at least six of sixteen members of the first Parliament of Upper Canada

owned slaves (Hill, 1977, as cited in Angelini and Broderick, 2007, p. 100). Yet, the pervasive dominant ethos often remains that Canada is a nation devoid of any connection

to African slavery. That slavery existed in Canada is not a widely known fact further

Aboriginal women: reclaiming justice' Saskatchewan Law Review, 56 no. 2, 237-266. Monture-Okanee's argument must be acknowledged not only because there are disproportionate numbers of Aboriginal women incarcerated, but also because the Canadian justice system has historically denied, subverted, and de- legitimized the tenets of Aboriginal justice. The very narrow construction of "justice" for Aboriginal women needs to be expanded and reworked. In order to contextualize the many complexities involved, there needs to be an understanding that in terms of punishment and justice, the Canadian state has a responsibility to accept and acknowledge the multi-vocality of multiple Aboriginal voices at all levels of judicial process. 22

demonstrates how romanticized notions of early race relations between colonists11 and

Blacks, and Aboriginals and Blacks require further research. One way in which to examine the specific ways in which Black and Aboriginal women figured into the building of empire is to examine the similarities between the enslavement of both

Aboriginal and African peoples. From the beginning of colonial exploitation, colonial agents represented Aboriginal peoples in racist ways (Stevenson, 1999) and Black women as mules (Collins, 1990). Aboriginal women have frequently been referred to as "squaws" and missionaries sought to subvert and curtail the sexuality of Aboriginal women and in doing so labelled them as sexually promiscuous, and their children "accidents". Similarly,

Aboriginal men were viewed as pathologically violent (see Smith and Ross, 2004;

Churchill, 1998). Black women12 have been referred to as "Jezebels" and "mammies"

(Collins, 1990) and Black men as "dysfunctional rapists" (A. Y. Davis 1981). For Black women, slavery labelled them as less than human and socially disallowed fundamental human rights. The institution of slavery, the selling of bodies to the highest bidder, seeing

11 Although Britain and France were ruling empires, once Canada became a British possession, as a colonial state it enforced regular submissive acts of terror, racism, violence, and death towards women of colour. Colonialism allowed for and encouraged the subjugation of women - in particular sexual violence and racism was regularly perpetrated against Aboriginal and Black women. And while Canada did not require a large surplus of Black slaves for slave labour, Britain had the resources to support an ever-steady flow of slaves into Canada eventually increasing the slave population. See A. Cooper, The Hanging ofAngelique, 83. These movements of bodies across and within borders further resulted in transnational migration for many women of colour. Unfortunately, the movement of bodies of colour were subject to surveillance and restriction in the process of selection for colonial empires. Women's bodies, by extension, figured into this process, but in particular ways. 12 Images and ideologies about Black women's bodies have promulgated forced sterilization campaigns, created income disparities due to lack of access in the labour market and/or enmeshed Black women in continual cycles of poverty. As a result, of these practices, the colonization of Aboriginal women's bodies furthered their continual exploitation, and the sexual exploitation of Black women during colonial periods labelled Black women as hypersexual and sexually available. During slavery, the idea that Black women could not be raped supported the continual sexual violence that many were subjected to. Dorothy Roberts explains that the rape of slave women was not recognized as a crime and any child who was the result of rape was also considered a slave. See D. Roberts, Killing the Black body: Race, reproduction, and the meaning of liberty (New York: Pantheon Books, 1997). 23

your children sold into slavery and the fracturing of family life crucially demoralized

Black women in the most unconscionable way. In order to provide the ideological rationale for colonial conquest13, it was imperative for missionaries to represent

Aboriginal (see Stevenson, 1999) and Black women as powerless, savage and degraded; the gendering of the empire was necessary for Europe (the West) to subjugate "the rest."

Colonial states operate through racialized and sexualized morality processes. In this system, the legal, economic, political, and social control of women's bodies is a form of state sanctioned patriarchy that legitimizes the use of state violence as a way to regulate morality. Moral regulation processes enacted by the state ensures ways for bodies14 of colour to be seen as "unfit" for the making of nation.

13 By all accounts much of the discussion concerning European conquests acknowledges the sexualized nature of the conquests. Sexual division of labour was a central defining feature of many colonial projects. Subsequently, sexual relations between European men and women, and Aboriginal and Black populations were seen as unnatural and thus prohibited. By extension, then, Black and Aboriginal women were not considered presentable icons for the image of Canada as "White Man's Country." In order for Canada to remain a white settler society, sexual relations between Aboriginal and Black women and European men were discouraged and Aboriginal and Black women could not participate in the project of nation-building. For many Black women, servitude often included the birthing of 'mulatto' children fathered by their white slave masters. Several scholars have critically examined how sexual relations between slave women and white men were often very complex. See D. Roberts, 1997; Cooper, 2006; P. Hill Collins, Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment (New York: Routledge, 1990/2000); D. Gray White, Ar'n't I a Woman? Female Slaves in the Plantation South (New York: W. W. Norton, 1999). For example, Roberts (1997, p. 124) explains that the rape of slave women was a tactic of power and control levied by their slave master in order to inflict fear and quell resistance tactics for Black women. Collins tellingly argues for an analysis of sexual violence perpetrated against Black women to also include acts of violence perpetrated by Black men against Black women. She argues that painful topics that implicate Black men are often taboo, and render Black women who speak out about this issue as social pariahs and race traitors. 14 This exclusion in the project of nation-building was also extended to Metis women, who although active in the resistance movement, were gendered as wives and mothers. See E. Dua, Canadian anti-racist feminist thought: Scratching the surface of racism. Canada' in E. Dua and A. Robertson , eds., Scratching the surface: Canadian anti-racist feminist thought (Toronto: Women's Press, 1999) 7-31. Similar to the treatment of Metis women, in some cases 'mulatto' women, were seen as a contaminate off-spring in danger of jeopardizing empire. Gender-specific permutations interconnected with racial and sexual ideology to produce discourses of difference about Aboriginal and Black communities which undermined every aspect of their government, familial, economic, social, and cultural value systems. 24

For Black women, during the era of slavery, citizenship rights coincided with civil rights. For slave women, the acquisition of citizenship as set out by the Canadian government meant little to them even after the abolition of slavery. With Canada no longer under British rule, the Canadian Citizenship Act came into effect on January 1,

1947, and legally extended Canadian citizenship to those living in Canada. Prior to this

Act, there was no citizenship statute in existence and Canada was considered a nation without citizens16 (Chang, 2009). Previously, the Immigration Act of 1910 allowed for the

Cabinet to "exclude 'immigrants belonging to any race deemed unsuited to the climate or requirements of Canada' " (as cited in Radford, 2007). This meant that the Canadian government could decide whether or not Blacks who involuntarily and voluntarily arrived in Canada could be considered 'British subjects'. This view had little credence for challenging since during the 1920's the Canadian government decided that 'British subjects' could only be defined as citizens of commonwealth countries whose population was predominantly white (Angelini and Broderick, 2007, p. 100). This meant that Black women, whose ancestors were once slaves, still could not achieve legal statutes as citizens. Furthermore, it also meant that Black women would never been seen as formidable symbolic models of womanhood for the colonial project.

In order to contextualize and theorize the relevance of citizenship and belonging for incarcerated Black women, it is important that we keep in mind how a contemporary

15 In 1977 the Canadian Citizenship Act was renamed the Citizenship Act. The Canadian Citizenship Act 1947 was renamed in order to make Canadian citizenship more widely available, "for example, by reducing the period of residency required from five to three years, and to remove the special treatment for British nationals and the remaining discrimination between men and women". See Young, Canadian citizenship act and current issues, 1997/1998, http://dsp-psd.pwgsc.gc.ca/Collection-R/LoPBdP/BP/bp445- e.htm#INTRODUCTION(txt) (Retrieved July 29, 2009). See also Benner v. Canada [1997] 1 S.C.R. 358. 16 "Canadians" at this time were considered British subjects living in Canada. 25

reading of citizenship rights in Canada proves contentious for incarcerated Black women.

Citizenship in Canada has always been a privilege rather than a right. Recently, there have been changes made to the Canadian Citizenship Act that when read in the context of neo-liberalism, have far-reaching ramifications for those seeking citizenship in Canada.

1 fj On April 17, 2009 changes to the Canadian Citizenship Act were announced. These changes allowed for persons who had formerly renounced their Canadian Citizenship in order to obtain citizenship of another country, to again obtain Canadian citizenship providing they prove their previous Canadian citizenship status. Most interestingly, the changes also dictate that only one generation born outside of Canada can claim Canadian citizenship. One could argue that this latter change is a result of post 9/11 moral panic discourse permeating in our society about terrorism, 'foreigners' and 'illegal aliens' threatening the moral fabric of Canada's border security. Clearly, this latter change will impact those who seek citizenship and belonging through familial ties - which many people do. Because Canada is a country built on immigrant labour, this change limits the acquisition of Canadian citizenship for extended family members, fractures families and keeps others out.

There is a pervasive denial of racism in Canada (see Henry and Tator, 2006). As such, continued reproduction of groups as 'others' results in the criminalization of racialized groups and the criminal justice system works in concert with other institutions to maintain status quo allowing for the socio-economic stratification of Canadian society to remain intact (Jiwani, 2002). In an effort to evaluate such claims, literature in the area

17 For a full explanation of these changes see http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/citizenship/rules-citizenship.asp 26

of punishment and law (Zinn, 1997) and social control (see Howe, 1994) have furthered my analytical thinking in regard to the ways in which citizenship and belonging are contested political social domains. Moreover, although Rafter and Heidensohn (1995) have in their edited collection drawn out attention to the exclusions evident in the theoretical and practical applications of traditional feminist criminology, what is missing however is an examination into how the law shapes who actually has access to the citizenship rights. Accordingly, then, if space becomes race, so too, does place (Razack,

2002). Contemporarily, incarcerated women, these carceral bodies through legal processes are now peripheral bodies outside the normative boundaries of belonging. In a court of law the aim of the application of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms ' makes reference to the hope of an impartial trial and to "charter proof all jurisprudence.

However, once sentenced, moral and social codes indicate that many women of colour going through criminal court procedures are socially viewed as those who have contravened the tenets of womanhood and morality, rendering them social misfits.

Although the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms is very much based on the rhetoric of inclusion, citizenship is very much raced. A racialized person is often thought to be 'from somewhere, other than here' and therefore acquiring citizenship becomes construed as a privilege, not a right. By extension immigration processes then, dangle the carrot of citizenship and hold hostage the idea that 'we let you in this country'.

Moreover, Yuval-Davis argues that "[n]ations are situated in specific historical moments and are constructed by shifting nationalist discourses promoted by different

18 For the full text of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms see http://laws.justice.gc.ca/en/charter/index.html 27

groupings competing for hegemony" (1997, p. 4). Her argument is central to the very notion that any discourse(s) concerning the emergence of nations and nationalism is implicit in its relation to gender and power as well. Therefore, we are left to contextualize how an analysis of gender and race can be understood in the context of "imagined communities" (Anderson, 1983). More specifically, I postulate that while any such discussion indeed involves the role of racism, it also includes the role of gender. Gender functions in multiple ways in the making of empire. Within this framework, I question whether the political, economic, and cultural efficacy of demarcating boundaries with bodies, language, and technology presents a clear demarcation between a nation-state and nationalism. The idea of nationalism involves the notion of unification and conformity, and the institutionalization of power and hegemony. Since these are also factors in the re/production of nations, and the surveillance of particular bodies there obviously is a strong correlation between the Black woman as symbol of nation and her right to acquire citizenship. Furthermore, what are the implications of these for problematizing race, racism and rehabilitation for Black women in the 21st Century? The emergence of

Canada's nation-state in an effort to maintain the ideological tenets of Empire building highlights how the historical efficacy of colonialism and imperialism has shaped the lives of the colonized and the colonizer. These processes are central to Black feminist frameworks and critical whiteness studies as situated within the context of law, justice and penology theories. We see further evidence of the making of nation using reified notions of race and sex in accordance with Canadian laws that were aimed at women who were seen as having a "weaker moral constitution" (Sangster, 2002, p. 59). In Canada 28

when The Female Refuges Act was enacted in 1897 it allowed for magistrates to sentence women between the ages of 16 and 35 to be incarcerated in reformatories for crimes such as sexual promiscuity, incorrigible behaviour, public intoxication and illegitimate pregnancy (Sangster, 2002). In particular, Aboriginal women and poor white women were incarcerated under this act. By the 20th century, raced incarceration and the legal construction of race were evident injudicial dispositions. For example, Emily Murphy's

(1922) book The Black Candle exemplifies early racist discourse characteristic of

Canadian criminal legislation. Murphy argues for legislation to curtail the "threat" of

Chinese men and other men of colour who she sees as luring white women into opium smoking and unsavoury lifestyles. For Black women, slave narratives are telling stories that are testimony to the plight that many women faced as expendable property for their white owners. In order to move towards examining the relationship between and among the Black woman's body politic, nation, and citizenship we need to shift our analysis for the time being to an examination of citizenship and belonging as determinant factors for problematizing punishment ideals.

There has been little documentation about Black women incarcerated in Canadian prisons. In one study focusing on "the disjuncture between an individualized conception of dependency and women's lived experience," Shoshana Pollack (2000) conducted five interviews with Black Caribbean-Canadian women federally incarcerated in Ontario. In another instance, Karlene Faith (1993) has argued that in the province of Nova Scotia,

Black women make up the majority of the approximately twenty women in the provincial prison. Although these works reference an often forgotten segment of the women's prison 29

population, there is still an exigent need for critical analysis and representation of the voices of Black women who are incarcerated in Canada. This dissertation is the catalyst for hopefully beginning the dialogue about some of the salient issues that Black women in prison face on a daily basis. For Black women doing time in Canada, the problem is more than simply acknowledging the negation of their experience. Rather the iconography of the Black woman represents a tight web of reasoning that encapsulates intersectional issues concerning racism, sexism, classism, and capitalism.

Contemporarily, neo-colonial processes including but not limited to discriminatory immigration decisions, social welfare inadequacies, housing discrimination, and temporary domestic worker visas, position Black bodies and other bodies of colour in a contested domain whereby the historical implications of unbelonging, racism and its continued reproduction as connected to incarceration are seldom discussed. In Canada, Black women's economic and social sustainability has been affected in detrimental ways, leaving many women in poverty-stricken situations.

Moreover, documented cases of Black women serving time in Canadian prisons are mainly for drug trafficking (drug mules19) and importing drugs (Faith, 2003). Social conditions including, but not limited to, poverty, violence against women, and mental health are mitigating factors that contribute to these high rates of incarceration for women of colour.

In the United States, the imprisonment of Black and Latina women has reached

19 Persons hired to transport illegal drugs across international borders. Often women of colour living in impoverished situations see this form of "employment" as a means to alleviate economic strife or to escape poverty. See J. Sudbury, 'Mules,' 'yardies' and other folk devils: Mapping cross-border imprisonment in Britain, in J. Sudbury, ed., Global lockdown: Race, gender and the prison-industrial complex (New York: Routledge, 2005) 173-189. 30

disproportionate numbers. In her book Partial Justice, Nicole Hahn Rafter outlines distinctively how race and racism were salient factors in the judiciary process:

Racism continued to influence prisoner populations powerfully after the Civil

War. The proportion of Blacks, including Black women, continuously swelled in

the prisons of the Northeast and Midwest, while the previously white prisons of

the South become engorged with newly freed Blacks (1990, pp. 133-134).

Similarly, Anne M. Butler (1997) argues that the discourse of "deviance" was crucial to the imprisonment of Black women. She explains that "[w]omen of color, with their identities falsely tilted toward sensuality, deviance and criminality by whites, found a clash with Anglo law further pushed them beyond the dominant society" (Butler, 1997, p. 27). Clearly, 'hatreds' are played out on the bodies of women of colour; and for incarcerated women, these bodies do not "fit" into the dominant Eurocentric ideals of virtue implicit in the ideological construction of morality and the acquisition of citizenship and belonging.

Historically the Canadian state has had a highly racialized and class-influenced coercive relationship over women's bodies. The colonial history that is played out on the bodies of women of colour has its roots entrenched in processes past and present that are descriptive of the fluid nature of racism, sexism, and classism. For centuries women's bodies, particularly Black bodies and other bodies of colour have been subjugated and pathologized via the discourse of science and technology (see Gilman, 1985; Comaroff, 31

1993). However, in terms of penology discourse surrounding Black and Aboriginal

women, there has been little dialogue that explores the politics and interconnectedness of

incarceration, race and gender in the Canadian context. Research in the area of race and

the Canadian criminal justice system, notably the work of Sherene Razack (1991, 1998,

2002) has been influential to the development of feminist penology, because her work

specifically calls for an interrogation in to the workings of gender and race in criminal justice proceedings and dispositions. Additionally, Hannah-Moffat (2001) has argued that

the focusing of gender-only discussions runs the risk of negating other important issues.

Consequently, race and racialization as mediated through the lens of citizenship and

belonging allow for us to examine the ways in which space becomes race through legal

discourse and physical boundaries. To say that spatially locating racism in Canada is

difficult is putting it mildly. What is needed as Razack (2002) argues is an analysis that

explores how Others are kept in their place. Furthermore, spaces of incarceration are

spaces of displacement and the social relations produced in theses spaces are affected by

this displacement (Oikawa, 2005, p. 74-75). Coalescing with this framework is what

Williams asserts is the need for questioning how "racism is reproduced and what its

(pre)conditions of reproduction happen to be" (2008, p. 63).

It can be argued that generally, Canada is (re)presented as a country void of overt

incidences of racism. This cloak of "multiculturalism" is a fallacy. More accurate is the

argument that the insidious nature of systemic racism is embedded in many immigration,

refugee, employment, and economic policies. These policies are entrenched in a colonial

history that delineates "Canadians" (read: white people of European descent) from 32

"immigrants" (read: people of colour). In regard to penal punishment, troubling race

relations between the Canadian state and people of colour are illuminated via the politics

of incarceration for women. The historical confinement of women's bodies of colour

deemed criminal and unfit to aid in the project of empire building, represents a

contemporary discursive continuum of racism perpetuated through power and coercion

tactics. Strategically, this renders women of colour in Canada, invisible. We make the

connection here between the historical colonial genocide of Aboriginal women in an

effort to plant the seeds of germination for the exploration into the experiences of

incarcerated Black women. Canada's colonial legacy is expansive - it crosses borders, generations, time and space. It is a legacy that is also raced, sexualized and gendered. We have looked at the treatment of Aboriginal women and communities because parallel lines

can be drawn both historically and contemporarily to that of incarcerated Black women.

* * # *

On November 13th, 2007,1 sat in the computer room located on the main level of

GVI. Before me sat Condo, 37 years old. She told me she was serving a two year, two month sentence for drug trafficking. At the time of our interview she had already served eight months of her sentence. She is a woman who identifies as part Aboriginal

"American Indian" and part Canadian Black. As we settled to begin our interview, I asked

20 Clearly, immigrants are not always people of colour, and people of colour should not always be stereotypically referred to as immigrants. My point here is to emphasize the discursive ideological framework in which "Canadian" is understood and idealized. Like many other social and ideological constructs, the definition of who and what a "Canadian" is has been created and normalized. More often than not, this construction does not include people of colour. 33

her what her life was like prior to coming to GVI and whether or not experiences of racism shaped her life:

Condo: We are from the Cambridge area and we were one of the visible minority

groups in the Cambridge area when Cambridge was beginning to be built up. In

the school system my brothers were the only Black boys in the school and they

were subjected to severe racism from the students and the teachers. My mom had

to intervene - my mom sits on the Human Rights Race Relations Board and she's

also a descendent of the Underground Railroad; and in regards to the police we

have had quite the harassment by the police in the Waterloo region area and police

interaction and there was the neighbour one time who had a fight with my brother

and the white women was telling the little white boy to 'beat that niggers ass, beat

that nigger's ass' and my mother came down the street and had to give the women

a shot in the mouth. And then my dad came down the street to see what the man

was going to do; and when we were in Kmart on time that was where Lulus is

now we were in the store shopping there and a group of white boys said -1

remember was sitting in the basket - and my two brothers, my mom, my dad, and

a group do white boys said 'look at the group of jungle bunnies' and my mom

gave a shot there too -1 have lots of experience with racism. That's a little brief

summary; Born in London, Ontario and raised in Cambridge from the time I was

three... 34

Condo revealed how experiences of racism affected her and her family while growing up in Cambridge, especially as a woman who is of mixed race. Her story behind bars is an interesting one due to the multiple ways in which her race is read and thereby how well she 'fits' into prison life. Spaces are racialized, and so is access to resources in prison:

Condo: I'm status. I have an actual band number but I do not let them know that

I'm not full Indian ...I'm part Black so I recognize both my cultures...my mom's

got a status card too and you gotta remember she's descendent, a direct descendent

of the underground railroad so that is how much the interaction of the Black

culture..., so these people don't know what Black is they look at me and think I'm

everything but Black...

Behind the prison walls Aboriginal women and Black women share much in common historically as well as contemporarily. Both groups of women have been dressed in the

'emperor's clothes', viewed via the diagnostic gaze of colonialism, kept in place by ideologies of difference, and felt the effects of genocide as sanctioned by the Canadian government. Racism and sexism have affected the standard of care that they receive in prison and Black women have felt the brunt of this. Condo indicated that although there is some representation to help Aboriginal women in prison, Black women do not fare as well: 35

Condo: Yes they do need to have some sort of representation for women of colour

here. I'm part Aboriginal and Black, and the Aboriginal have their own Section

8421 information and the section entitles them to get them out early release, pre­

release as long as they have the support of their reservation, they can go they can

get released into the community...the Black women have absolutely no program

here whatsoever, like that...Aboriginal women have an elder liaison that comes in

here twice a week here in the institution, the Black women have absolutely

nothing at all, not a thing.

The release of women back into their communities is a central component to reintegration processes. We tend to view prisons as separate from our communities and therefore we view women who reside there, as separate from society as well. Particularly for

Aboriginal women who may have lost ties to their reserve communities (CHRC, 2003), reconnecting with one's community proves integral to their identity and provides a sense of belonging. Conversely for Black women, no such option exists. Thirty-nine year old

Tika Marie, was born in Nova Scotia, and grew up in Toronto. She identifies as Black

Canadian and stated that:

21 Section 84 as outlined in the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA) provides for the reintegration of Aboriginal prisoners into an Aboriginal community with the support of their families instead of going to a halfway house. Many Aboriginal prisoners are unaware of Section 84 and it is often not discussed during their initial intake or made a part of their correctional plan. See Canadian Human Rights Commission (CHRC), Protecting their rights: A systemic review of human rights in correctional services for federally sentenced women, December 2003, http://www.chrc- ccdp.ca/legislation_policies/chapterl-en.asp (Retrieved June 20, 2008). 36

There is not one program in here that address Black [women] like they don't know

how to take us. Some of us are loud because that's how we talk like get to know

us. We have different upbringings you know...I think with the majority of us

Black - we're African somewhere or other, I mean we [can] go back to our roots.

There's nothing here, there even isn't a Black facilitator - there's not one, and

there's two Black guards

The common thread here is lack of services for Black women. This is not to say that

Aboriginal women do not face issues of exclusion, racism or lack of services either. As we can see from Condo's discussion, pre-release conditions for Aboriginal women require support from their communities. However, due to social displacement and exclusion, many Aboriginal women's ties to their Band and/or reservation were severed by the Canadian state. We see from Condo and Tika Marie's discussion that 'place becomes raced' (Razack, 2002) through the parameters that confine women in prison.

Similar to ways in which the Canadian state perpetuates racist treatment against

Aboriginals, particularly in terms of land and sovereignty claims, the historical construction of the prison as a site of management for a woman's body is contemporarily actualized via the mechanisms that are in place to remind and solidify surveillance of condemned bodies. Aboriginal women and Black women's bodies serve as conceptual maps in which we can visualize the various ways in which rehabilitation processes are problematic for both groups of women. How do Black women behind bars navigate pain, suffering, fear, isolation, shame, remorse, stigma and discrimination? In order to begin to 37

answer these questions we have to first work towards implementing conditions and infrastructure that seeks to address the root causes of why some women come in contact with the law. Further it stands to reason that any analysis of rehabilitation must also examine heterogeneous politics - that is to say, the ways in which social discourse is understand and experience by Black women who occupy multiple subject positions.

Hiring more Black women or men who employ ideologies reflective of the dominant status quo will not serve Black women in prison well. Yet this too, is not without contention. If one works within the master's house (see Lorde, 1984/2007) with the master's tools, how does one then actualize and work with those who are products of the master's colonial system, when both are products of the same system? Racial, class, and gender politics are intersectional and as we see from Tiffany's experience in the next section, the same skin colour does not necessitate solidarity, nor same experiences of oppression.

The emergence of Canada's nation state as a white settler society and the maintenance of empire are concepts that are examined through multiple lenses. As such, the sexualized, racialized, and gendered nature of colonial conquest underscores the interconnectedness of patriarchy, colonialism, imperialism and incarceration. Critical analysis of divergent colonial processes expresses the necessity for discussions concerning feminist criminology and Black women's incarceration to be contextualized in terms of exploring how colonial processes, and specifically the tactics of the abuser has shaped the lives of the colonized and the colonizer, and how patriarchy is implicitly interconnected in such processes. It is important to understand how these processes came 38

to pass, but it is equally important to question why these were and continually are central to the policing of Black women's bodies and by extension incarceration.

The trial of Marie Joseph Angelique represents the microcosmic figurative maquette that metaphorically depicts how configurations of sex-gender and racialized roles played a pivotal role in the mis/treatment of Black women's bodies. In Canada, then, this exploration calls for an inquiry into how articulations of race and racism inform the making of empire and by extension imperial rule. Furthermore, gaining historical

access to this terrain, allows for a more fluid understanding of how Black women's bodies have often been overlooked as key players in the establishment of nation.

Getting In on a Temporary 'Pass'

Social constructions of citizenship and national identity are also connected to

one's place of birth. For some women of colour it is important to keep close ties to

'home' as a means of retaining one's identity. In such instances, obtaining a Canadian citizenship means allegorically cutting ties with your place of birth. Therefore for women

like Cyndi L., retaining her Grenadian citizenship was important to her. However, when women who 'do not belong' have no citizenship security and come in contact with the

Canadian criminal justice system, legal allegiance to one's 'home' country becomes regrettable. Cyndi L. illustrates this point:

Cyndi L.: I came here [Canada], I been here for 36 years I never got a citizen

because of all the trouble I been getting into and stuff like that...at the same time I 39

was a Rasta so my mentality and my belief was I'm not gonna to get a Canadian

Citizen[ship] because I want to go back to my country, I always want to be a

citizen of my country, your understand, I used to say as Peter Tosh used to say and

Bob Marley "when the fight is going on in Babylon I want to be able take a plane

and run back" you understand me, so I never got a citizen, so right now I am

fighting for my life to stay here, all my children is here, everything is here, all my

family is all here, the last family I had, just died three weeks ago in Grenada - my

aunt - that was the last surviving aunt so that's it.

Evidently, the socio-cultural politics of colonialism and colonial regimes open up questions that speak to the importance for understanding what Staler calls the "new cultural constructions of citizenship and national identity that emerged in the late nineteenth-century European nation-states" (1995, p. 129). Cyndi L.'s contact with the criminal justice system means that the previous choice she made not to obtain Canadian citizenship now has serious implications for her right to remain in Canada and her criminal conviction makes her ineligible to obtain these 'rights'.

Ideas of citizenship and belonging are historical and inform contemporary analysis exploring reasons that many Black women feel Canada has a better life to offer them and their families. For some Black women immigrating to Canada or 'going abroad' to

'foreign' conjures up images of safety, peace, and advancement. These ideals have been written into the social mosaic defining Canada. In a document produced by Citizenship and Immigration Canada, called A look at Canada it states: 40

Canadian values include freedom, respect for cultural differences and a

commitment to social justice. We are proud of the face that we are a peaceful

nation. In fact, Canadians act as peacekeepers in many countries around the world

(quoted in Satzewich and Liodakis, 2007, p. 66).

Echoing the illusion that comes with wanting to feel a sense of belonging, Cyndi L. who immigrated to Canada at 10 years old, explains that her non-citizenship status makes her deportable upon her release:

Cyndi L.: Yeah they are trying to deport me. Right now, Friday I'm leaving here

and going to Vanier and they have 48 hours to come and see me and decide if they

are going to give me a bail to stay or not give me a bail

Interviewer: Do you have a lawyer helping you?

Cyndi L.: Yeah I have a lawyer on it and all my family's there for me they need

to come... it's hard, it's very difficult... they are the ones that actually brought me

to where I am now - the system, you know what I say too, this is one suggestion:

after a person is 10 years old and live in this country, this country is responsible

for them, they should never ship them back... because everything you learn you 41

learn from this country, you learn from this government, you learn from the

teacher that teaches you, so where are they sending us back [to]?

Similarly, Dominique indicated to me that upon her release she will be deported back to her Caribbean island stating that "[w]hen I get out [they are deporting me] yeah I don't live, here I want to go home." For Dominique, going 'home' is a welcome relief to the incarceration and she is looking forward to her deportation. Conversely, Cyndi L. has no real connection to 'home' since she has been acculturated to life in Canada. The dynamics of deportation is evidence that the concept of belonging has mitigating circumstances that are complex and relative to one's experience.

In terms of stigma and discrimination, having worked on prison issues for the past few years, I have learned that particularly for women of colour there is much shame in having 'done time'. This connects to the ways Black women have been policed and over- policed, and then re-victimized by the system at various levels of judicial process. For the

Black women I interviewed who had upcoming release dates, they expressed concerns about discrimination and stigma as a process of re-entering society loomed before them.

Interestingly, Minister Sister Dinah's represented a shift in her views of citizenship and belonging in light of her time spent in prison:

Minister Sister Dinah: Well I have always studied the Diaspora and after four

hundred years of slavery and what we have been through and to see how the

system has changed and they're now executing psychological warfare against us, 42

when I get out I really don't want to live in Canada. I want to go back to Africa. I

know they have a lot of things where they're saying they want to help, but all they

need to do is look in themselves and do the right thing because we have a lot in

common - the government and so on - they have done so much against our people

I don't think they understand how much they need to do now in order to find

mercy from God because this is all a problem in which it started from slavery and

its ending with us being destroyed as a people both physically mentally and

psychologically. The only thing we have going for us is our spirituality and thanks

be to God, I've found my way out. So I no longer feel -1 don't even want to live in

Canada. I want to go back to Africa and if I am to suffer and if I am to die, I'd

rather die in Africa.

Moreover, Black women's bodies are transnational bodies. Clearly, the experiences of incarcerated Black women are multi-layered. However, two of the women I interviewed made reference to Africa as conjuring up feelings of belonging and hope. As seen above

Minister Sister Dinah talks about her plans to return to Africa (specifically Ethiopia) and

Cyndi L. told me about her sojourns to one particular country on the African continent in reference to what she thinks about Black focused schools in Toronto:

Cyndi L: I think it's great, me and my brother in '81 we took a 5 year Black

history course of Africa that's how I ended up in Africa [where did you go - what

country?] Ghana, I went to Ghana, I've been to Mecca, I've been to the Ivory 43

Coast. It's an experience on its own you feel more closer to God when you are in

Africa, the sky is like you can touch the sky...and you get so much history of

Black people where we're coming from and where our ancestors been what they

did for us and for us to be here and for us to stand up mentality (sic) and um

spiritually wise. I was 32 [when I went to Africa].

Satzewich and Liodakis (2007) argue that the concepts of diaspora and transnationalism take on different meanings particularly when associated with ideas of immigration and I would add citizenship and belonging. The authors argues that often ethnic and immigrant communities may view transnationalism as less of a political concept because transnationalism "is not saturated with the same deep historical and contemporary narratives about trauma, victimization, and survival despite the odds" (p.

210). In referencing to the term diaspora they cite the work of Robin Cohen (1997), who argues that in some cases the term diaspora has more of a positive connotation for ethnic and immigrant groups who have been displaced from their homeland; it serves as a functional term for those who do not feel as though they are equal members of Canadian society; therefore the term emphasizes different forms of traumatic experiences that serve to cultivate solidarity within the larger imagined community (Satzewich and Liodakis,

2007, p. 209-210). For Cyndi L., Minister Sister Dinah, and Lauren (see Chapter 7), the concept of diaspora has more resonance for the lived reality of their life behind bars in part because of the trauma of incarceration and the reality of racism and sexism in

Canadian society. 44

The Black women I interviewed in prison had different understandings of citizenship and belonging as it related to their lived experiences. For Cyndi L. her deportable status at the time of this interview was uncertain. Although having grown up in Canada, a product of the Canadian system, she is not considered a 'citizen' because for over thirty years she has been a landed immigrant22 with 'temporary rights'. Her non- citizen status relegates her morally and socially to the periphery of society. As a racialized woman with a prison record and no 'status' the odds are stacked against her23; and these 'odds' are legislated in the Canadian Citizenship Act (RSC 1985 c C-29):

22. (1) Prohibition - Notwithstanding anything in this Act, a person shall not be granted citizenship under section 5 or subsection 11(1) or take the oath of citizenship

a) while the person is, pursuant to any enactment in force in Canada,

(i) under a probation order,

(ii) a paroled inmate, or

(iii) confined in or is an inmate of any penitentiary, jail, reformatory or prison;

(b) while the person is charged with, on trial for or subject to or a party to an appeal relating to an offence under subsection 29(2) or (3) or an indictable offence under any Act of Parliament, other than an offence that is designated as a contravention under the Contraventions Act (Citizenship Act. 1974-75-76, c. 108, s. 1.).

In Canada, landed immigrants are now termed Permanent Residents. 23 On October 3, 2008 Cyndi L. was deported to Grenada (personal communication with Cyndi L.'s mother, November 26, 2008). 45

During my interview with Cyndi L., I realized that the fear that she currently experienced regarding the possibility of deportation is connected to historical feelings of unbelonging not only in terms of citizenship rights, but also regarding her family life.

After being sexually abused by her stepfather, Cyndi L. ran away from home. Her first contact with the system of corrections came at age 11 when she was placed in a group home. In many cases it is difficult for young girls to find places or people of comfort when experiencing sexual abuse. For Cyndi L. the ramifications of being abused were not dealt with and at a young age she began to steal. In my effort to work through some of my research questions, I thought about Black women's autonomy in relation to the choices that they make in their lives. I asked Cyndi L. whether or not she felt the abuse she experienced was a mitigating factor in her incarceration.

Interviewer: Do you feel you put yourself jail or do you feel that the abuse you

went through was a factor with you being in the system for so long?

Cyndi L.: Yes that is true to but at the same time you gotta remember that after a

certain age I could have said to myself well Cyndi this is getting too much going

to jail - get an education and get a job. But because as I say being from this doing

this thing from I'm so young and I see how much money can accumulate so

quickly it tends to overpower you as I would say the devil; it's like it was so

strong, so you tend to you know it's wrong, but yet still you know the right, but

yet still you do the wrong...Like a lot of people will say the system, the system - 46

no I think [I] blame part myself and part that (the system). The system did fail me

as a young girl that they didn't give me (help). When I reached the age of 17, 18,

19, 20 and still was doing the stealing in the system, I think they should have been

the one to look and say 'well this girl's got a problem let's send her to a

psychiatrist and find out what this girls problem is', but they didn't do that to me;

they kept on giving me time, time, time you understand; and nobody ever sat and

wonder why is this child always doing this thing and what is her problem, nobody

did that so it's like the system half failed me and then I failed myself too because I

should have known better because I do believe in God strongly you understand

me, I have a very strong...like after a person get in trouble for a period of like five

years or even three years I think they should stop and wonder what is wrong with

this child - what is going on; put them through a psychologist or something, but

the system doesn't they just keep giving you time, time, time and you keep going,

going and to me giving a person time in jail doesn't benefit a person.

We see here that although Cyndi L. takes responsibility for her actions regarding her convictions, she also candidly reflects on the failure of the system to protect her.

For Minister Sister Dinah, her status as a Canadian citizen, and as a racialized woman with a prison record, didn't seem to provide any solace for her either. Yet a personal connection to the Africa - as an entity - seemed to allow for some sense of internal calmness and peace. Andrea Davis explains that".. .the concept of the Diaspora in its most amorphous and transgressive terms offers 'New World' Blacks a way of 47

confronting and critically rewriting their experiences of racism, fragmentation, and nationlessness" (2004, p. 64). For many persons with white skin privilege, access to attaining formal citizenship and belonging, is taken for granted. These women represent some of the contestations that are evident when citizenship is entangled with incarceration.

Tiffany's experience of incarceration is both transnational and local. She was arrested in Antigua and was charged with importing and exporting, and possession of cocaine. She received two charges and with each charge she was given three years. In order to be transferred back to Canada, Tiffany first had to be convicted. Once that was done there were further problems with her paperwork. On some of her paperwork it read that the sentence was to run concurrently, and on other forms it read that her sentence was to run consecutively. It took 11 months for Tiffany to be convicted and another 12 months for authorities to finish her treaty and get her back to Canada. In the end, she spent 23 months incarcerated in Antigua. This lack of congruency on her paperwork only added to the stress and delay in getting her back to Canada, something that she desperately wanted since she was under the impression that her criminal record would not follow her back to

Canada based on information that she was given by authorities in the prison:

Tiffany: .. .So I was told in Antigua from my embassy that me signing my treaty

and coming home to do the rest of my time, a foreign conviction will not entitle

me to a criminal record in Canada. I have that in writing. I have it in writing....cuz

they give you pamphlets and books, and once I did come here, the day I was 48

leaving Antigua I had asked the embassy about the conviction and she said 'yes'

and I said ' well how come in that book that you gave it said it would not affect us

in Canada and she said that basically after September 11th (2001) everything's

been written down in stone. And I said well that's not my fault you should update

your books because this is what a lot of what us inmates are [going] off of.. .that

we're going back home free, nothings gonna follow us, everything's gonna stay

here - that's basically what you told me when I got here. So as I got here in

Canada when I got to GVI and I had met with my Parole Officer and the

Sentencing Manager, they're basically telling me that every transfer that comes

from wherever, a criminal record always follows them. When I had showed them

the booklet - that's another reason why I kinda stayed longer in GVI - cuz they

were looking over that and they were trying to call Ottawa24 and figure out what's

going on. Up till now I still don't have a straight answer.

Furthermore, her status as a first-world foreigner in a Caribbean country caused the other women in the prison to view her in a particular way, highlighting how notions of citizenship and race are interwoven:

Tiffany: Even though regardless of the fact that we're all of the same colour,

there's some kind of prejudice against us foreigners, 'cuz there's a lot of foreigners

there as well for similar charges, and there was prejudice towards us because we

The Correctional Service of Canada National Headquarters is based in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. 49

were foreigners. They, some of them thought we thought we were better than

them just because we're from different country and some of our countries are well

off compared to Antigua, 'cuz I met Americans, some English girls, some Dutch

girls and they...because we complained about the situations, they always throw it

back in our faces 'oh you foreigners think you have life easy. This is not Canada

or this is not the States' - these are the guards and the inmates [saying this] as well,

so there's always something in the jail going on about foreigners, foreigners,

foreigners. So, even though we're all of the same color it didn't really matter

because we're still foreigners.

The notion that Tiffany thought she could 'go back home' to a better situation is representative of the belief that internationally many Western countries are situated as more civilized or easier in terms of punishment ideals. The heterogeneity of experience reasons that some women in prison, too, have been acculturated to expect a certain level of support or even due process if they like Tiffany are Canadian citizens:

Tiffany: As a Canadian being over there, the Consulate should pay more attention

to our situation and our cases and try and retain us lawyers and such a lot of things

they could do for us. (Tiffany's lawyer was not appointed by the Consulate).

Because they had so much budget cuts, they are saying we weren't entitled to little

things, like if I need medication, it had to come out of my pocket which means it

had to come out of my families pocket. There are no work programs for women to 50

earn money in Antigua's women's prison - whatever work you can get, you might

earn 14 cents a day which may be the equivalent to four cents Canadian. A lot of

us were suffering with our healthcare over there. You can only say so much to

them and they can only do so much and if anything they would throw it back at

you: 'why don't you go and tell your MP'...if it didn't break you it made you

stronger.

Prisons are cultural, socio-political spaces. They are also raced spaces, co-mingled with the messy discourses and rhetoric of citizenship and belonging. Cyndi L., Minister Sister

Dinah, and Tiffany occupied the same raced space, but the mapping of belonging and citizenship is articulated differently for them with divergent outcomes due to the relationship that they have as state subjects. Citizenship meant hope for belonging, disappointment, and the potential for a forgotten past and clean slate. Yet in the end, will an identity of dominance codified in citizenship discourse help keep these Others firmly in place? (Razack, 2002); we hope not.

Historical Informs Contemporary: Marie-Joseph Angelique's Legacy

When Marie-Joseph Angelique died, the legacy of Canada's imposition of slavery and racism might have seemed to have died with her. Little has been articulated about her life, much less her death, until Afua Cooper's (2006) account brought us full circle to a confrontation about the past. We began our analysis of Canada's colonial history by briefly examining how two specific groups of women - Aboriginal and Black women - 51

have bome the brunt of racism, resultant of colonial processes. As indicated above, the historical treatment of these two groups of women draws parallels that have seldom been analyzed and provides an opportunity to explore how the social location and marginal status of racialized women in general, and Aboriginal and Black women in particular, warrants further discussion in order to draw connections between historical and contemporary threads.

* * * *

My interview with Minister Sister Dinah lasted over two hours. After she told me who she was, I told her that I had read about her case in the paper and saw her story on the news. She told me that much of what was reported lacked full detail about the actual events that took place. Omitted were years of formal complaints of racism and harassment that she had reported to the housing authorities in the area where she lived. We talked about the omission of race in criminal justice cases and how the very affectual realities of racism in Canadian society have visceral and long lasting effects on one's life and their families. We talked about how racism has affected her life:

Minister Sister Dinah: Racism had a lot to do with my charges. I was

discriminated against for almost ten years by a neighbour who she persisted her

and her children calling me nigger, hurting my children when they were outside

alone and it got so bad that when one time when my husband passed away really 52

she proceeded to say to me 'I'm glad your husband is dead' and her children called

me nigger and at the same time they said we don't like Grenadians, we don't like

Black people and we don't like Rastafarians'. So that was kind of a set up for why

I am in prison...cuz I in the end I ended up attacking her...when I appealed for

help, I didn't get it.

Interviewer: Where did you appeal for help?

Minister Sister Dinah: Well I lived in Metro Housing at the time and I have a

twenty page report of letters that I had sent to them regarding this issue and the

continued harassment and they did nothing as far as I'm concerned and I still have

those documents. I was born in Grenada 1964 and I came to Canada June 1974.1

have five born Canadian kids.

Moreover as a Rastafarian25 woman, Minister Sister Dinah explained how her religion and race intersected in such a way as to contribute to social exclusion. As a Black woman and a Rastafarian, I asked her if she felt as though she experienced social stigma and discrimination:

25 Images in popular culture of Rastafarians have influenced much of the social stigma surrounding Rastafarian religion and culture. Stereotypes of Rastafarians as "Jamaican", "ganja-smoking" and "roughnecks" permeate our social landscape. See J.A. Johnson-Hill's I-sight: the world of Rastafari: an interpretive sociological account of Rastafarian ethics (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1995). 53

Minister Sister Dinah: Yes, I am a part of the Twelve Tribes of Israel and my

husband was the head of it, the overseer in Montreal, I had one child before I met

him and my four children after that is for him. I had a family of five with a

wonderful man and when he passed away I got no help from anyone, everywhere I

went there was the same...like there was a stumbling block set to keep us down.

So even though I lived in an area called Chester Le, and I saw the poverty around

me but for myself I come from a good family and my children were all excelling

in school so I knew I was different from the norm of what they were doing to us,

but losing my husband that caused such grief that held me down for years and

during my grief was when my crime occurred. I really haven't had time to deal

with my issues on the outside...it was so hard with the system involved they don't

offer us; when we do try to reach out there is nothing there for us so I stayed at

home and just concentrated on raising my children. So that was just my life.

As we talked more about her life prior to coming to Canada and thereafter, I realized that

Minister Sister Dinah's story was the story of many Black women who either come to

Canada for a better life or having been born and raised here, feel the sting of racism as they try and carve out a life for themselves and their family. For those who come in contact with the criminal justice system, that sting does not go away. Shelly decided to work in a strip club primarily for the money, but realized that the she had a lot of other stressors affecting her life: 54

Shelly: ...Don't get me wrong, I've had other jobs. I just thought that was

something [where] I'm able to drink and socialize...A lot [of stressors] around

education because my mom's always pushing me to do post-secondary education

and I just found the pressures of like living and having a job and paying bills, it

was really hard for me to focus. I tried a few times to enter college as a Mature

Student, but I haven't been too motivated...I haven't lived at home for quite a few

years.

Interviewer: Was living on your own stressful?

Shelly: Looking back, yeah, I don't think I was aware of how stressful my life

was....I thought it was easier, I didn't have to put much effort into it -1 could take

whatever days off I wanted...

The work of 'normalcy' discourse in society is constructed by dominant elites in an attempt to explain different kinds of perceived social phenomena. In the above case,

Rastafarianism and employment in a strip club fall outside the norms of dominant religious discourse and acceptable modes of employment, since dominant social codes deem these as 'deviant' practices and behaviours. As a result, both Minister Sister Dinah and Shelly occupied social positions that were deemed different and unacceptable. The typecasting of difference in this case makes them different from the rest of 'us' who are 55

not like them. Add incarceration, race, and gender politics to the fold and the magnitude of the difference multiples.

Contemporary writers such as Luana Ross (1998), Colleen Anne Dell (2002), and

Karlene Faith (1993) examine the confinement of Aboriginal American, Aboriginal

Canadian, and Black women's bodies. They have explored how racialized and criminalized ideologies lead to state-sanctioned gendered incarceration, that attempt to reform "bad" women. Labelling and incarcerating women seen as criminal "lunatics",

"temptresses," and "procurers" pathologized and criminalized them (Reece, 2005, p.

237). The subjugated positions of a Rastafarian woman and a strip club employee only serve to illuminate how those who fall outside of contemporary moral social codes are seen to need social reform. Particularly in Shelly's case, because she had a history with the Children's Aid Society (CAS), her past employment positioned her as a mother in need of surveillance. At the time of our interview, Shelly had already served five months of a two year sentence and she regularly had scheduled visits with her daughter who was three months old and in care with the CAS. Her biggest concern for her was care for her daughter upon her release, particularly because as she mentioned "they can bring you back for even the slightest [little thing] and that's a big concern for me". She spent half an hour with her daughter before she was taken by a social worker to be placed in temporary residence. Shelly explained that she would have preferred for her daughter to go with her mother, but since her paperwork was not done in time authorities could do as they pleased: 56

Shelly: I didn't spend much time with her at all - half an hour. Somebody from

CAS had to come, my mom was there. They weren't able to finish the assessment

on time for my mother so she had to go into care. Well my lawyer doesn't know

why she (daughter) didn't go to my mom, but maybe because I'm in here, they can

do what they want, you know I am in custody...They don't care, I didn't have

much time with her at the hospital. And pretty much after I had the baby... they

had to shackle me (for transport back to the institution).

As a young twenty-two year old former strip club employee, Shelly exemplified the "bad mother". Adding to the stress of not being able to bond with her child after birth, upon her return to Grand Valley Institution for Women, authorities ordered a psychological26 evaluation for her that only served to add to her frustration:

Shelly: One thing I hate with this place is when you have you know something

that happens that's very stressful, they stick psychology on you and make the

guards come and harass you every hour, every half an hour sometimes and it's

only for that day. Like me personally I need to be alone when I have my issues

and maybe a few days after that I'm ok to talk about it. They do everything they

can that first day and then after that day you're nobody again. I spent sometime in

26 In cases where prison authorities feel as though a woman may be in a severe or prolonged state of depression, a psychological evaluation is ordered. This assessment is supposed to determine whether the woman is at risk for suicide or is suffering from brief depression that might subside soon. In Shelly's case, she was struggling with the separation from her daughter immediately after giving birth, and did not want to speak to any of the prison authorities. They ordered the psychological evaluation as a precautionary measure, although Shelly felt it was unnecessary. 57

the PFV (Private Family Visits), the second day I got back, and then they kicked

me out 'cuz they needed the space so I didn't even get to spend the time that I was

supposed to spend in there.

Clearly, the imposition of a psychological evaluation pays lip service to the actual needs of prisoners. After giving birth, spending little time with her daughter, having her taken away and placed with CAS, and then returning to prison, Shelly needed consistent support to deal with the trauma of what she had just experienced. Both Minister Sister

Dinah and Shelly are examples of how traumatic life experiences become intermingled with the politics of incarceration. These experiences also become more glaring when medicalization processes are enacted. Shelly's experience provides a good entry point into exploring how the confinement of women's bodies in general and Black women specifically are subject to raced medicalization processes. What begins with a psychological evaluation may end up in dire circumstances.

Thus far, I have historicized the politics of race and gender surrounding the construction of nation and woman. These interrelated categories have demonstrated that the social construction of nation and women is indeed raced and gendered, and therefore mutually dependent on one another. I will continue to keep to the forefront of my analysis the socio-political configurations of citizenship and belonging for women in prison. The next chapter presents a theoretical framework that explores how historical ideologies associated with the construction of citizens and nations are connected to the building of prisons for society's 'undesirables'. I begin the next chapter by looking at a seldom 58

discussed tragic set of events that took place at Canada's oldest prison for women in

Kingston, Ontario, and how these events are historically connected to the creation of colonial spaces for women. 59

CHAPTER 3

BEHIND THESE WALLS: A BRIEF HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF SOCIAL CONTROL

Prison is the only place where power is manifested in its naked state, in its most

excessive form, and where it is justified as moral force.... What is fascinating

about prisons is that, for once, power doesn 't hide or mask itself; it reveals itself

as tyranny pursued into the tiniest details; it is cynical and at the same time pure

and entirely "justified, " because its practice can be totally formulated within the

framework of morality. Its brutal tyranny consequently appears as the serene

domination of Good over Evil, of order over disorder.

Foucault(1977)

Talking back was not permitted. Threatening one's slave owner was an act of defiance, often resulting in whippings. Yet at that moment, while sitting in a holding cell, was she thinking about a death looming, a crowd gathered, maybe a threat that was made?

Her body would carry the wounds of her foremothers and forefathers. Maybe she thought to herself, 'I did it. I stood up to her, I fought for my freedom' or maybe the harsh reality of the cold cobble stone she sat on, was a solemn reminder of freedom unattained.

What initiated the hanging of Angelique was a daring statement she made to her slave owner, Madame Therese de Couagne de Francheville. Having run away from her mistress, vowing to "roast" her (A. Cooper, 2006, p. 12), Angelique as outlined by 60

Cooper was engaging in an act of resistance, but she was also contravening the tenets of slave-master protocols. Her "status" as a Black slave woman meant she had no status at all. Her threat made to her mistress symbolized a metaphorical defiance unheard of. Her threat also demonstrated that but for one moment she equalled herself to her mistress by defiantly speaking back to her (A. Cooper, 2006, p. 173). This act of resistance highlights an often forgotten fact that many slave men and women were not docile. In fact, by demanding her freedom Angelique called into question her subjective and autonomous self, and although not legally defined as a human being, she made known to her mistress that she was challenging this literal and ideological legal statute. Slave masters and mistresses unable to control the "long tongues" of their slaves, often whipped them

(Cooper, A. 2006, p. 173); a form of punishment regularly perpetrated against Angelique.

According to A. Cooper (2006), in acts of resistance to her whippings and the refusal of her mistress to give her freedom, Angelique cursed her mistress, lashing out at her with her tongue and disobeying her. This act of resistance particularly at the request for freedom was the only way in which Angelique could equal herself with her mistress.

* * * *

Dorothy Proctor entered the Prison for Women on March 22, 1960. She was a seventeen year old mixed raced (Black and Aboriginal) woman. In her autobiography

Chameleon, co-written with Fred Rosen, Ms. Proctor details vivid accounts of her life before and after her incarceration. Her story is a fascinating one. It is a tale of LSD, 61

racism, exploitation, medicalization and prison. A document titled A Review of the use of

LSD andECT at the Prison for Women in the Early 1960s (Gilmore and Somerville,

1998), referred to as the McGill Report hereafter tells a small piece of her story. What is very disturbing about the McGill Report is that all of the descriptions of Ms. Proctor portray her as a "psychologically disturbed" prisoner. One formidable case in point outlines that at seventeen years old Ms. Proctor volunteered to participate in the LSD study. Because of the controversy regarding her age (she was still a minor), the McGill

Report states that it is unknown what the exact dates were when Ms. Proctor received her first and third LSD dosage. Her second dose was given on September 11, 1961, so it is approximated that her first dosage was six weeks earlier. The McGill Report argues that since she was born in 1943, she would have been eighteen years old. This is an attempt to silence the controversy her age was causing - it was bad enough that the experiments took place, and worse that they were conducted on a minor. In contrast, the Board of

Investigation27 report as cited in the McGill Report, clearly states that:

[t]he situation is which she was asked to participate, especially when she was in

dissociation, was not one where she could have had any real opportunity to reach

27 Ironically, the McGill researchers do not feel that the Board of Investigation report is adequate. I believe that whether Ms. Proctor was "of age" or not, does not belie her claim that she has suffered from her experience at P4W. Ms. Proctor also claims that the experimentations have caused her hallucinations that she has suffered with for the last 30 years. She further claims that the LSD contributed to her drug addiction27 that she battled for years after being released from P4W. In an effort to refute this claim the McGill Report asserts that the "review of the use of LSD failed to discover evidence that the research use of LSD is likely to contribute or predispose [one] to subsequent drug use, as has been claimed by Ms Proctor." I see this as another attempt by the Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) in which the ideological nature of state institutional power can be used to further marginalize and de-legitimize women's voices. 62

informed consent. This inadequacy was compounded by her young age {Board of

Investigation, CSC report 1997 as cited in the McGill Report, p. 117, my emphasis

added).

Dorothy Proctor was released from the Prison for Women on August 1, 1963.1 met Ms. Proctor in Ottawa in 2001 at a conference I attended called Women's Resistance:

From Victimization to Criminalization. Since that conference I got to know her personally and we corresponded for a period of time over many years. Through personal communication she shared her story with me, and I have always admired her strength and resilience. In 2002 she initiated a lawsuit28 against the Correctional Service of Canada, the terms of which she was unable to discuss with me. She lives in Ottawa, Ontario.

In chapter one, Angelique gave strength to Minister Sister Dinah, here our contemporary counterpart's name is Dorothy. In this chapter we will examine how historical experiences of nation building are manifested in contemporary social control practices. Our entry into this discussion begins with the historical contextualizing of punishment ideals for women.

The Federal government admitted to conducting LSD and ECT experiments on prisoners at P4W. The LSD program was run by staff psychiatrist Dr. George D. Scott and psychologist Mr. M.B. Eveson, who published their results from the study in 1964. See See N. Gilmore and M.A. Somerville, A Review of the use of LSD and ECT at the prison for women in the Early 1960s. (Ottawa: Correctional Service of Canada, September 1998). 63

Theorizing Prison Construction and Punishment Ideals for Women

In order to understand how prisons work, it is important to question why they are viewed as a necessary apparatus for social control and reformation discourse that negotiates the intricacies of state power. Michel Foucault's (1977) work Discipline and

Punish, perhaps provides one of the most salient theoretical frameworks in which to situate discussions concerning penal punishment. Although Foucault never explicitly wrote concerning women's bodies, his work involving power, knowledge, and discourse fundamentally provides a solid framework for understanding the ideological constructions of punishment and penal incarceration. Penal punishment is historically rooted in methods of social control, torture, and reform. I postulate then, that justice - the very premise law is supposed to uphold - is expressly linked to the notion of dehumanization and spectacle for the human body that has been condemned to invisibility, coercion, and depravity. In this sense the contemporary understanding that the correctional system in Canada takes toward punishment is based on a historical colonial ideology constituted in and from class, race, and gender social paradigms. When the condemned [Black] body, is a marker of contestation and deviance, this is a body in need of surveillance (Foucault, 1977).

Furthermore, inherent in this analysis of surveillance is a discourse relating to whiteness as a cultural marker. In this sense "images of whiteness predominate as cultural markers designed to mirror a generic deference to their authority" (Visano, 2002, p. 212). The interconnections between and among legal definitions of deviance and historical hegemonic practices of racism are connected to the policing and incarceration of specific groups of people. 64

As such, Foucault (1977) argues punishment is the most hidden part of the penal

process and penal punishment is historically rooted in methods of social control and

reform depravity. In this sense the correctional system in Canada takes its cues for

punishment from the Canadian judicial system - a system whereby women are re-

criminalized and re-victimized and placed in prisons - the majority for drug related, sex

work or property/poverty crimes. The prison becomes engendered in the sense that the

patriarchal associations and ideologies of the prison become the umbrella^or which and from which incarceration is understood; incarceration then, is based on an interpretation

of punishment standards as designed for men.

Historically and contemporarily, crime and criminality are seen to be

characteristic of the poor and/or working class. Associations with social conditions (living

environments, education or race) are bound up with the idea that persons who commit

crimes exist in situations "generated by deplorable social conditions which necessarily

[produce] human beings deformed or deficient in certain ways" (Gamberg, 1984, p. 27).

This notion of crime and criminality has been expressly linked to the concept of

deviance29 and as such is understood in a particular context:

The concept of deviance, then, underwent some modification while a dominant, if

29 Marshall explains that during the 1960s and 1970s a sociology of deviance developed as a way for scholars to delineate between theories of law enforcement and punishment, and definitions of criminal behaviour. Early work by social pathology theorists made reference to deviant behavior as that which was attributed to inherent delinquent behaviour. New criminologists (circa 1973), critical of both positivist criminologists and labelling theorists, conceptualize that definitions of deviance depends on what social norms are seen to be violated. See G. Marshall, (Ed.). Oxford dictionary of Sociology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994). Debates around deviance theories have diminished since the 1980s; my use of the concept in this work is simply to highlight the historical and stigmatizing resonance of the term as attributed to persons coming labelled criminals. 65

not general, societal consensus was still assumed. The adoption of a pluralistic

perspective, however, made the concept more relativistic: behaviour which was

normative for one group may violate the prescriptions of a second group and be

considered by them to be deviant.. .(Gamberg, 1984, p. 27)

Gamberg presents his analysis of deviance as defined by 'North American' standards at the beginning of the twentieth century. He argues that the defining parameters of deviance were later challenged, but it was 'class' strata that was linked to crime. Consequently, historical understandings of the concept of deviant behaviour elucidates that the purpose of torture was to deter crime.

Public executions were displays of spectacle in the early eighteenth and nineteenth century France where punishment was understood as that which explicitly invoked physical pain and suffering (Foucault, 1977). The body, then, (read: male body) was the site upon which torture, dismemberment, and amputation was played out (Foucault,

1977). By placing the body in the public sphere, the very visual display of pain was equated with deviant persons who stood apart from the more virtuous members of

Victorian society. The body served as a central symbol of torture during the eighteenth century in England, France and Russia (Foucault, 1977). Hence, torturing the condemned body can be viewed as an allegorical symbol of power, control, and judiciary politics. The argument can be made that the body, (particularly women's bodies) is a political 'site' where discourses and ideologies of "hatred", fear, and punishment are mapped out. The infliction of pain as deemed necessary by a governing judiciary sends a very clear 66

message about state power and human rights - as well as the loss of human rights for the condemned criminal. In retrospect, much of the discourse concerning twentieth century penology measures can be attributed to ideological formations of punishment that surfaced during the eighteenth century in France. This period illustrates a time when judicial governance was interconnected with the idea that legally the state could deter crime by presenting a visual display of the consequences of crime. The affirmation of state power, law, and societal control was just as important as was the idea that "torture and execution be ever-present in the heart of the weak man [sic] and dominate the feeling that drives him to crime (Beccaria, 1764 cited in Foucault, 1977, p. 104). Consequently, the public display of condemnation for the criminally deviant via the infliction of physical pain was embedded in the socially accepted definitions of morality.

Although the public exhibition and execution of prisoners was maintained in

France as of 1831, an ideological and discursive shift would take place where by the end of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, punishment as spectacle began to disappear

(Foucault, 1977). The body as a signified object and the ideology of punishment would become intertwined with the idea that the spectacle of punishment was inhumane:

[In some way] this rite that concluded the crime was suspected of being in some

undesirable way linked with it. It was as if the punishment was thought to equal, if

not exceed, in savagery the crime itself, to accustom the spectators to a ferocity

from which one wished to divert them, to show them the frequency of crime, to

make the executioner resemble a criminal.. .to make the tortured criminal an 67

object of pity or admiration... (Foucault, 1977, p. 9)

Much of this 'intolerability' of punishment helped establish key meanings and definitions of imprisonment. The discourse of representing the prison must be seen in a more sophisticated way than the traditional definition of the term. In terms of the production of knowledge about prisons, discourses operate on many different levels. In one way, the language of prisons supports the meaning of deviance. For example, we use terms such as

'criminal', 'deviant', or 'insane' in conjunction with imprisonment or institutionalization, hence we construct a discourse of incarceration that produces a particular kind of knowledge about the prisoners inside the prison. Furthermore, this language of incarceration allows "good citizens" to formulate an ideology of what and who they are, as opposed to who they are not. On another level, it can be argued that a discourse is not a closed system; it can draw on other discourses in order to "bind a network of meaning" where relations and differences among and between discourses operate systematically

(Hall, 1996, p. 202). Historically, in this sense, the meaning of the execution called for the audience to take up the subject position of the criminal - in essence to become the criminal, and to feel the pain of punishment. This realization that torture was akin to inhumanity would create a discursive shift whereby physical punishment processes would become hidden and new ways in which to 'humanize' incarceration were designed.

In order for 'citizens' to be spared the cruel and exacting visual display of punishment, an ideological distance was created whereby criminals were "distanced" from the more "civilized" members of society; hence building an infrastructure (prison) 68

that would physically and ideologically confine deviance. Therefore the power of surveillance enacted by an organized State faction could reinforce an ideology of punishment.

Hall (1996) further argues that according to Foucault, ideology is based on delineating the difference between truths and falsehoods. He explains that political, social, and moral facts are presented as truth, and this production of knowledge is rarely challenged. Since the presentation of 'facts' does not ask for us to decide what is true or false, we take substantive 'truths' as those ideas that are necessary for the maintenance of societal good. Therefore, it becomes a 'fact' that in order to maintain societal good through incarceration, persons deemed criminally deviant must be punished. And because we take this 'fact' as 'truth', the ideology of punishment remains unchallenged.

Moreover, the tenets of punishment - pain, suffering, and/or death - are coupled with the idea that societal good, social control and order can be maintained by exercising state power. The ideology of the state, then, was promulgated on the idea that the moral superiority of 'mankind' [sic] could be demonstrated via the overt wielding of power by the state, and the necessity to protect societal good and the moral fabric of society.

Furthermore, the ideological and diagnostic-distance that prisons create are strategic elements for organizing societal "good":

[A]n examination of the institutional and cultural practices involved in the

production of citizens is crucial. While penal governance can be seen as a

representation of juridical power and repressive forms of disciplinary power, it 69

can also be analyzed as a form of productive power that has the intention of

producing individuals who meet certain normative expectations (Hannah-Moffat,

2001, p. 7)

Hannah-Moffat's argument here is useful for feminist analysis of power relations and women's incarceration. In terms of hegemonic power relations, Karlene Faith argues that

"the punitive nature of prisons [are] a measure and expression of power relations in society" (1993, p. 126). Prison incarceration, then, purports a paradigmatic framework whereby "good" citizens (read: White European women) are seen apart from "bad" people. In our work here, this refers to Black and Aboriginal women. Citizenship affords human rights privileges, and since prisoners are defined as 'criminal deviants', they are viewed separate and apart from 'citizens'. The idea of citizenship further encompasses the notion that citizens are 'moral, upstanding sovereign' people - these are qualities generally not equated with prisoners.

Sick Bodies: The Process of Becoming a 'Good Person'

Power, control, and political efficacy would become central points of conjecture for much of the medical theory behind prison construction. Consequently, the notion that the Canadian state could reform the criminally minded was an idea that took shape during the period of Enlightenment whereby the construction of a prison also meant the rehabilitation of a criminal. Rehabilitation processes would allow the Canadian state to wield its power by fundamentally structuring punishment as more 'humane'. Gone were 70

the days of overt physical torture - this was now being replaced by a 'new' ideology of punishment that included reformation practices. Particularly in regard to the women's bodies, the state would create a way in which to deprive the human body, justify punishment, and reform 'bad' women. This way of thinking emphasized that the body was still to be subject to surveillance and therefore the manipulation of the body should be done in the 'proper' way as to result in rehabilitation:

As a result of this new restraint, a whole army of technicians took over from the

executioner, the immediate anatomist of pain; wardens, doctors chaplains,

psychiatrists, psychologists, educationalists; by their very presence near the

prisoner, they sing the praises that the law needs: they reassure it that the body and

pain are not the ultimate objects of its punitive action (Foucault, 1977, p. 11).

Clearly, this shift from the public spectacle of punishment meant that reformation of the condemned body could take place in a controlled environment. According to

Karlene Faith, "the shift to incarceration occurred in large part due to shifts in the dominant discourses, from centralized power to diffused disciplinary techniques and

'normalizing judgements' as practiced by emerging professions" (1993, p. 128). State relations of power operate strategically and operationally in regard to punishment and penal incarceration for women. These overt power relations are supported by the fact that discursively and ideologically, prisons can be seen as site for supporting and controlling the constraint of one's physical and mental faculties. By building a prison or a 71

penitentiary - a large scale structure representative of institutional power - the condemned female body can serve as an intermediary instrument upon which the state can deny individual liberty and human rights (Foucault, 1977). This system of deprivation is central to the idea of rehabilitation because it is promulgated on the discursive notion that criminal retribution can be reinforced by state power (Duffee, 1989, p. 10). In retrospect, the idea of torture as a deterrence was a popular concept, but by the nineteenth century the ideology around punishment shifted to one in which the prisoner could be institutionally 'reformed' having paid their debt to society:

The traditional rationale for the use of prisons is the glaring imposition of

punishment as the just desserts means of paying one's debt to a centralized state,

which must be compensated for harm done to an impersonal society as opposed to

the needs of the forgotten individual victim, if there is one, who becomes

subordinate to the adjudication process. (Faith, 1993, p. 125)

As Faith has pointed out, rehabilitation is one of the most debated and problematic arguments coinciding with incarceration processes. In fact, the fluidity of the term introduces numerous discursive frameworks in which to discuss how it relates to penal incarceration for women, and state power.

Much discussion around incarceration and reformation involves the ideas of retribution and hard labour. The notion that confinement and solitude would provide the prisoner an opportunity for them to change their behaviour, was part and parcel of the 72

discursive apparatus of penology in early nineteenth century Canada. Most importantly, the concept of rehabilitation stems from the idea that those who have committed crimes, particularly women, are socially flawed (Faith, 1993). Hence, women who deviated from dominant ideological normative standards set by the 'moral' members of society were seen to be inherently criminal. Faith argues that rehabilitation discourse "shifts from the event of the crime to the woman who "falls" from grace due to sin or sickness, or who, in deviating from consensual behavioural norms, violates an abstract social contract..."

(1993, p. 125). Intrinsic to this notion of rehabilitation, is the perception that the State can

'correct' those who have violated their privileged citizenship rights.

Imbued in this concept, is the view that federal penitentiaries can provide adequate and necessary vocational and educational training for prisoners. Traditionally, for male prisoners, therapeutic interventional strategies and techniques such as group counselling, were programs designed in federal prisons that sought to "treat" the criminally deviant (Ekstedt and Griffiths, 1988). For example in the 1956 report from a

Committee of Inquiry, chaired by Mr. Justice Fauteux, it was stated that "persons who violate the criminal law are persons who have been damaged in the process of growing up" (Ekstedt and Griffiths, 1988, p. 53). Because the model for the first women's prison in Canada was based on Kingston Penitentiary - a prison built exclusively for men - this discourse paved the way for medical personnel (psychiatrists and psychologists), and medical models of treatment to be introduced in the realm of penal punishment for women. MacNamara (1977) as cited in Ekstedt and Griffiths (1988) underscores this point: 73

The medical model....assumed the offender to be "sick" (physically, medically

and/or socially; his [sic] offense to be a manifestation or symptom of his illness, a

cry for help.. ..Early and accurate diagnosis, followed by prompt and effective

therapeutic interventional, assured an affirmative prognosis - rehabilitation, (p.

53)

The growth in prisons, then, coincides with new techniques of power that sought to reform or save the soul. Clearly, a shift had taken place in regard to the punishment ideology of the past. Historically punishment focused on torturing the (male) body in the public sphere, and the physical pain associated with this act was inherently connected to social control, crime deterrence and societal good. These philosophies are still disseminated regarding penology discourse about women, as modern penitentiary practices has shifted its gaze from the infliction of corporal pain on the body, to attempting to cleanse the mind and soul of incarcerated women. This is the process of subjugating, 'medicalizing', and gendering women's bodies.

(Re)Constructing Colonial Spaces for Women

Having 'disgraced' their sex/gender, women who were imprisoned presented a challenge to the ideological dimensions of womanhood and nation building. During the early nineteenth and twentieth century, the politics of colonial rule were unequivocally connected to the politics of gender (see Stoler, 1991) and race. Women (read white: 74

women) played many divergent roles in the building and sustaining of empire for British colonial states. In many cases European women were seen to set the normative standards for virtue, prosperity, and motherhood (Davin, 1978) thus these were the 'good' women in Victorian society. This same ideology was prevalent in Canada, and consequently, women who were poor, sex workers, or of colour were not considered favourable in the construction of nationhood. Furthermore, "African", "Asian", "Aboriginal", and poor white women were seen to be detrimental to imperial and colonial rule. These women, sometimes labelled criminal "lunatics" would come to wear the badge of deviance - they would provide the foundations for racist and ideological discourse that would position incarcerated women in a contested 'space' in which their bodies were pathologized and criminalized.

As mentioned earlier, the work of race and gender in the discourse of nation building solidified an ideology of who and what the virtuous woman was. Canada's

'good' women were those willing to work towards nationalism, not those who committed crimes, and those who were of European ancestry. "Criminal" women, who contravened the ideological and nationalistic tenets of the Canadian State, were not seen as 'good' mothers, or 'good' women, therefore they should be punished accordingly. Similarly,

Clarice Feinman explains how the virgin/whore duality is explicitly connected to definitions of defining and punishing women who break the law:

Implicit in the madonna/whore duality is women's subservience to men, who

assumed the role of protectors of the madonna and punishers of the whore...The 75

evil women.. .destroys man and brings pain and ruin...[t]he evil women

manipulates and ruins man with lies and sex, [thus], [t]he evil women [can] be

redeemed only by painfully bearing children and being controlled by her husband.

(1994, p. 4)

The connection here, between power, patriarchy, and gender, is especially formidable in any attempt to contextualize why penal discourse concerning women has historically been erased from more formal discussions regarding incarceration. In retrospect, punishment was centered on the male body, and since the numbers of women in conflict with the law were few, there did not seem to be much interest in having debates about women prisoners. This form of paternalistic discourse has commandeered much of the scholarship and research about the experiences of women in prison. This framework is supported by the concept that power marks 'spaces,' and defines what and who is important. In relation to paternalistic ideology, prisons are patriarchal colonial spaces. In other words, the confinement of women's bodies is also the 'conquering' of deviance and difference, and the silencing of women's voice. The prison, then, represents a 'site' where colonial processes illuminate the fact that patriarchy was/is a central facet of penal punishment for women.

Disturbing notions about women in prison, particularly Black and Aboriginal women are caught up in a dialectic that positions the woman prisoner "as 'poor and unfortunate' on the one hand, and 'lazy and worthless' on the other" (S. Cooper, 1993, p.

33). In Canada, during the early nineteenth century, in order to rehabilitate these 'types' 76

of women, it was argued that a separate prison for women needed to be constructed.

Criticism of women's punishment was deliberated alongside discussions of how to

'fittingly' punish women as they did not make up the majority of 'criminals' during this time period. Traditionally, prisons in Canada were built for men, by men, and women who had committed crimes were housed in the cramped quarters of male prisons (Faith,

1993). Most women who were incarcerated were convicted for non-violent crimes: petty theft, prostitution, or drunkenness. Faith describes how imprisoned women were locked away, and kept in the attic of Canada's Kingston penitentiary:

[T]hey were literally hidden away, under cold, abominable conditions including

infestations of insects and rodents, filth, inadequate nutrition, disease, total

idleness or meaningless labour, [and subject to] harsh punishments for prison

infractions, and sexual abuses by male guards (1993, p. 129).

In 1835, almost a hundred years before the Prison for Women (P4W) opened, the first three women arrived at Kingston Penitentiary. Susan Turner, Hannah Downes and

Hannah Baglen all serving one to two years for larceny, were housed temporarily in the prison hospital until a separate facility could be found (Correctional Service of Canada,

2000). It was not until 1839 that they were moved to part of the North Wing, a section designated as the first prison for women in Canada. At Kingston penitentiary, punishment for infractions of rules included floggings; placement in the "box": a coffin-like container with air holes, in which a woman was forced to stand, hunched over for hours at a time; 77

women, like men prisoners could also be chained, submerged in ice water; women were

put in a dark cell or fed only bread and water (Correctional Service of Canada, 2000).

Punishing women by means of flogging, then confining them in male prisons,

with male guards in unsuitable conditions, led to a public outcry (S. Cooper, 1993). In

order to address this issue, in 1848 the Brown Commission was appointed to investigate a

range of abuses specifically related to women prisoners being housed at Kingston

Penitentiary (S. Cooper, 1993). Although the conditions and abuses of women prisoners

were disturbing, this was not the central focus of the Brown Commission. Since labour

was to be an integral element to penal punishment and reformation, the Commission was

concerned with the fact that Kingston Penitentiary did not provide ideal conditions for

women's labour. According to the Warden of Kingston Penitentiary, women were,

[p]oor unfortunate creatures.. .generally of the unfortunate classes. They are

taught the usefulness of labour, and those well disposed are allowed to learn the

working of the sewing machine, so that on their release, they may obtain a

livelihood (quoted in S. Cooper, 1993, p. 36).

Even though sewing was not considered 'hard' labour, whereas doing laundry was, clearly the emphasis on traditional sex-gender roles for women was determined to be necessary for the reformation of'bad' women. This "inconvenience" of women's work coupled with poor living conditions, led to the creation of a separate unit for women in

Kingston Penitentiary. Established in 1913, this unit did little to improve the living 78

conditions for women (S. Cooper, 1993); rather it reinforced the misguided beliefs that women prisoners were 'oversexed parasites.' In order to combat this 'deviant sexual' desire, an attempt was made to 'cure' the woman prisoner. In this sense, what better way to 'save' the wayward woman, than to train her to serve a family as a proper wife and mother?30 (Faith, 1993)

The first institution for 'wayward' women in Canada was called the Andrew

Mercer Reformatory for Women located in Toronto, Ontario. The reformatory, not officially called a prison, opened its doors in 1872. Using sex-gender stereotypes of women, the reform school for wayward young women and girls, offered training to women in the area of obedience and servility. These Victorian ideals coupled with labour intensive jobs were designed to help rehabilitate "bad women" in need of reform. It is a misnomer to suggest that as a reformatory, the Mercer institution relied on a steady diet of piety and kindness. Rather the institution set the stage for the gendered division of labour seen in many women's prisons today, with the pretext still that of reforming 'fallen women' via the confines of domestic duties.

Women prisoners would eventually 'achieve' a prison of their own. Construction of the Prison for Women in Kingston, Ontario began in May 1925, and was completed in

January 1934 (S. Cooper, 1993). Four years later in 1938, it would be recommended by

My point here is to focus on the irony of the comment. I unequivocally am not making the assumption that women should be confined to the home (private sphere). Women of colour historically have not been granted the "luxury" of having definitions of motherhood equated with their race or ethnicity. Karlene Faith (1993) makes an excellent point that Aboriginal women (and I would add Black women) have not traditionally be confined to their own homes, but rather the homes of white European women as domestic workers. See K. Faith, Unruly women: The politics of confinement and resistance, (Vancouver; Press Gang Publishers, 1993). 79

the Archambault Commission that the prison be closed. It was not until 66 years later, amidst much controversy surrounding allegations of rape and abuse, that P4W would eventually close its doors.

In Nova Scotia, a province entrenched in deep historical and political racial strife

(see Izzard Allen's 2003 and Nelson's 2000/2005 work on Africville), Black women make up a disproportionate number of incarcerated women at the Nova Institution for

Women (NIW). Located in Truro, Nova Scotia, opening in 1995, the institution was built to hold a maximum capacity of 70 women. Women, who receive federal sentences in the

Atlantic Region, are housed at NIW. The history of prison labour in Nova Scotia dates back to 1754 when the first workhouse was built. Workhouses were based on the idea that hard labour could reform the prisoner and restore them to habits of correct living.

Prisoners would cut granite and lay road as a means of working off their penance to society. However, workhouses mainly housed male prisoners. During the 18th and 19th century, moral codes around sex-gender stereotypes would undeniably influence the construction of spaces for women who needed to brush up on and acquire suitable social skills in order to belong in society. This line of reasoning has not been lost in theoretical pretext of prison formation for women in Canada. Feminist criminologists have taken to task the very ways in which: a) incarceration processes theoretically and literally reinforce sex-gender stereotypes; and b) that prison as rehabilitation for women is yet

31 The full title of the report is The Royal Commission Report on Penal Reform in Canada. The report was chaired by Mr. Justice Joseph Archambault and is considered a ground-breaking report on prison reform for Canadian prisons. The report argues that prisons should focus on rehabilitation, rather than punishment. For a brief overview and analysis of the report see C.W. Topping The Report of the Royal Commission to Investigate the Penal System of Canada. Ottawa: King's Printer. 1938. The Commissioners were the Hon. Mr. Justice Joseph Archambault, chairman: R. W. Craig, K. C; and J. C. McRuer, K.C. (for H.W. Anderson Esq., deceased). 80

another interplay of the subjugation of women's bodies by the state. Furthermore, the proliferation of whiteness in traditional feminist criminological theorizing has failed to take into account that the working of gender in the discourse of nation building intersects with the confluence of race and class that serve to decipher and disrupt the normative social boundaries that enforce citizenship and belonging ideals in Canada. The techniques of surveillance, then, are raced, gendered, and scripted on social norms and moral regulatory practices that hegemonically are entrenched in our understanding of incarceration.

The federal correctional system in Canada is managed by the Correctional

Services of Canada (CSC), which is responsible to the Attorney General32 of Canada. The federal system houses people serving sentences of 2 years or more. CSC has a national headquarters in Ottawa but is administered through five regional headquarters (Pacific,

Prairies, Ontario, Quebec, Atlantic). Of the 56 penitentiaries in Canada, 13 federal institutions are located in Ontario - 1 women's, 11 men's. Due to the relatively low number of women prisoners compared to men, all women's institutions are multi-level, meaning they house minimum, medium and maximum security prisoners in the same institution. Men's prisons are not multi-level institutions. In total there are 5 regional penitentiaries for women:

• Nova Institution for Women - Truro, Nova Scotia

• Joliette Institution for Women - Joliette, Quebec

Formerly the Ministry of the Solicitor General, which was abolished in 2005. 81

• Grand Valley Institution for Women - Kitchener, Ontario

• Edmonton Institution for Women - Edmonton, Alberta

• Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge - Maple Creek, Saskatchewan

A federal snapshot of women in prison reveals disturbing trends and commonalities.

According to the Canadian Human Rights Commission (CHRC) report, Protecting Their

Rights: A Systemic Review of Human Rights in Correctional Services for Federally

Sentenced Women, federal Aboriginal women are disproportionately represented in federal prisons across Canada. Moreover many women serving time in federal institutions are first-time offenders, under the age of thirty-five years old and survivors of physical and sexual abuse (CHRC, 2003, p. 5). A majority of women in prison are mothers or primary caregivers and are struggling with substance use issues, which for Condo and

Tika Marie have contributed to their arrest:

Tika Marie: So later on in grade 11,1 can remember the distinct day that I tried

hard drugs - cocaine - but I snorted it, didn't get addicted anything like that the

first time I did it. And then I started to hang around that kind of crowd because

they didn't really care who I was; it was all about the drinking, the partying that

kind of stuff you know...they didn't want to know where you come from what

your upbringing was like, you know anything you know that close friends talk

about. So I thought these are people I want to hang around with. And now I

become 22 and I'm at a party and they were free basing and I'm like 'what is this' 82

so I check it out and I was addicted and I felt, It just numbed me like, I didn't think

about anything. So that's how I got involved with drugs. While I was working,

going to school, having savings...so my first high literally honest to God on free

base cocaine was seven thousand dollars - my very first high all my savings gone.

I'm going to work on no sleep...I'm an order filler at Sears, I was just zoned right

out and everything...I didn't do it again for about a month or two and then it

became every couple months and then it became every couple weekends, it just

got more frequent. Well now I have to support my habit. I learned very quickly,

and I was very resourceful no matter what I do I'm good at as long as I put my

mind to it and that's in criminal activity as well right, so I start to sell it and then

you know it was like smoke it, sell it, smoke it sell it, and it landed me three

federal [sentences]. If I never did drugs I would never be in trouble... I ended up

accumulating 'nuff charges, you get federal time....Now I'm gonna say I've been

coming in and out of jail for twenty years because of my drug use - why do

women keep coming back to prison? Why...Ninety percent of this population has

been abused in some form or other and is into some drug or other whether it be

marijuana or alcohol or whatever. Or their addiction could be fraud or their

addiction could be theft.. .some form of addiction and women are different than

men, women need to pay bills and this and that men...they don't think twice about

going and robbing a bank or whatever...

For Condo her concerns centered around relapsing once released: 83

Condo: Relapsing that would be a big thing for me. I'm healing very well through

my Aboriginal spirituality and the Christian program here...I got baptized on

September 12 (2007). [I used] cocaine specifically, no injection, no intravenous

just straight cocaine.

Interviewer: Did that affect your charge?

Condo: Oh yeah, I was caught with 34 grams of cocaine

Working through substance use issues is challenging in prison. In order to further contextualize Condo and Tika Marie's challenges, later we will examine how programming specific to the needs of Black women in prison can help with reintegration processes.

Grand Valley Institution for Women (GVI)

Grand Valley institution for Women is located in Kitchener, Ontario. This multi­ level women's penitentiary is the only federal facility for women in the province. At first glance you may not know that it is a prison, except for the Government of Canada warning sign that greets you as you enter the parking lot. Upon entering, you go through security, get your bags and person checked and then one of the guards will ask you what your business is for the day - whether you are there to facilitate a program, meet women 84

one-on-one or for a personal visit. For the women that I interviewed, I was permitted to conduct my interviews in private whether in the chapel, the computer room, or the quiet room. Having done community work in this prison for a year prior to my interviews, my face was familiar to many of the guards as well as the prisoners. I was able to conduct my interviews without obstruction from guards or other personnel. I am grateful that I was able to complete them all in a timely uninterrupted manner since at any time one may be refused entry or asked to leave the prison due to a disruption (i.e. lockdown). Upon walking down the main hall to the left is the chapel, and on your right, the hair salon and one of two computer rooms. A staircase off to the left of one computer room leads upstairs to program rooms where women who are enrolled in school or other programs attend their classes. Around a slight corner farther down the hall is the gymnasium, mailboxes and then the healthcare unit. A glance through the windows on your left shows clear the living quarters for the women. Media representations cloud our perceptions of prison life, and the expectation may be that there are various cell blocks or ranges in this women's prison33. However, as recommended in the report Creating Choices: The Report of the Task Force on Federally Sentenced Women (1990), one of the main recommendations was that cell blocks are not conducive to health concerns and rehabilitation processes. If you cage people like animals, in some cases the result is primal, particularly if the ideology that governs the prison and the care that prisoners receive is predicated on viewing prisoners as such. The women live in houses. Each house can accommodate anywhere from eight to ten women. In the summer of 2009 two new

33 Provincial detention centers such as the Vanier Correctional Center for Women hold women in cells on cellblocks, commonly referred to as 'ranges'. 85

houses as well as a new psychology unit was built on the grounds. During regular

'counts' each day, the houses are patrolled by guards who conduct head counts in order to account for the whereabouts of the women. On any given, day women may be in program, in the gym, at work, or having visits. The Maximum Security Unit (Max Unit) is the one exception. Located adjacent to the healthcare unit, this secure environment has units divided into pods that contain four to six cells each. The cells can be locked and are equipped with a sink and toilet. Each pod has a secure door, leading to laundry facilities

(washer and dryer), a living room, a bathroom and a lunch area. There is one cell on each pod that can accommodate persons with disabilities. I have on several occasions visited women in segregation as well as the maximum unit. Visitors are not permitted in the pods, therefore when meeting with women in the Max Unit you are directed to another room on the main floor or upstairs of the unit that resembles a program room with a few chairs and a table. As with all other areas of the prison, a 'Sight and Sound' regulation applies. This means that at all times the guards must be able to see any interactions between visitor and prisoner, and at any time they can listen in on conversations. Due to the isolative nature of the Max Unit, it comes as no surprise that there are high incidences of suicide34 attempts. As noted by Blanchette and Motiuk, "[m]ore than two thirds (71%) of the women in maximum security had previously attempted suicide compared with 21% of the maximum security males" and ".. .one quarter of the maximum-security women

34 In 2007, 19-year-old Ashley Smith committed suicide at Grand Valley Institution for Women. Her death caused controversy and outrage due to the horrendous and arguably inhumane treatment that she received while incarcerated. I argue that the building of the psychology unit at GVI was initiated as a result of media and community backlash the CSC received for its treatment of women prisoners. For a more complete understanding of the Ashley Smith story see The Fifth Estate news converge available at http://www.cbc.ca/fifth/2009-2010/out_of_control/ 86

expressed suicide intent at intake (1997, p. 6), and Daigle et al., (1999) note in their study that half of all women prisoners have attempted suicide at some point in their lives.

Supporting the fact that much has not changed over time, research conducted in a 2004 study notes that women are more likely than men to self-harm (slash, attempt suicide)

(Laishes, 2002, as cited in CHRC, 2003. p. 8) and therefore pose a greater risk to themselves rather than others (Campbell, 2006).

Women are sent to segregation for any number of reasons: physical altercations with other prisoners or guards; suicide watch; sometimes as a form of punishment; mental health concerns or perceived instability. Women who are housed in the Max unit or in segregation sometimes do not receive programming privileges. In some cases visits are also restricted. According to the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA),

"Segregation can only be exercised where there is no other reasonable alternatives to isolating a prisoner" (pursuant to section 31 of the Corrections and Conditional Release

Act). And yet in a 2002/2003 report it was shown that for a population of 376 women, there were 265 admissions to administrative segregation, of which 83 were for a period of more than 10 days (CHRC, 2003, p. 44).

Classification poses yet another problem within the prison. Each person sentenced to a federal institution in Canada must go through a security classification designation. The guidelines for classification are set out by the Corrections and

Conditional Release Act indicating that a classification of minimum, medium or maximum must be assigned to all prisoners by the CSC. As outlined in the CHRC report, according to the CCRA, classification is used to assess public safety, the probability of 87

escape, and a women's level of need for supervision within the prison (2003, p. 27).

Classification also affects one's ability to apply for parole and Escorted Temporary

Absences35 (ETAs). Once a prisoner has had a few successful ETAs to the community, this can sometimes be beneficial when they are applying for Unescorted Temporary

Absences (UTAs) and then possibly Day Parole. In order for successful ETAs to be completed women in prison require the support of their Primary Worker. When asked about the opportunity for Day Parole as a result of her classification, Chantal outlines, in some cases working towards minimum classification proves contentious:

Chantal: I have a PW (Primary Worker).. .1 would go to him and ask him "did

you do something for me and he was like 'if you keep coming to me I'm not going

to it, I'm gonna take longer to do it' and that's how he treated me right. So all of

my stuff I applied for my minimum in March and I didn't get it until August of

this year and it only take 90 days so stuff like that, so I didn't get to go on any

ETAs 'cuz my stuff wasn't done. I got a new PW and he got charged for whatever

happened here...I never got a new one again...my Parole Officer (PO). I have a

parole officer and she is up to a lot and none of the guards know [when] she [is]

coming back so I was sitting here for 3 months without a PO and if I had a PO all

35 Escorted Temporary Absences (ETAs) are granted to prisoners with a minimum security rating. A prisoner may request an ETA to their family or an organization for a day to be accompanied by CSC officials. Before an ETA can be done, a community assessment (CA) to the requested ETA destination must be done. Once successful ETAs have been completed, Unescorted Temporary Absences (UTA) can be applied for, the granting of which is wholly dependent on the conditions of the prisoner's sentence, the progress the prisoner has made while in the prison, and the success of previous ETAs. When applying for Day Parole, persons who have completed successful ETAs and UTAs are noted. A successful ETA and UTA does not guarantee that Day Parole will be granted. 88

the time I would have been able to go to the Board (Parole Board) in September. I

called the Correctional Investigator's Office I got a parole lawyer.. .1 put in

request to the Warden and even wrote a letter to the Warden saying that I don't

think the way they are treating me is fair and they just got back to me and signed

my ETA and stuff but I am going to be going home soon (3 weeks), so it's too late

you know.

Similar to Chantal, Lauren a 34 year-old woman sentenced to seven years, felt that acquiring her minimum classification took a while:

Lauren: Yep, it took me too long and I got told that because of my sentence its all

paperwork... I had a seven year sentence and I had a Black PW [Primary Worker]

when I got here and I must say she was excellent with my paperwork. She got me

in to the program that I inquired about; she worked my paperwork for me to get in

there, even though I had to be interviewed to get in there. I wanted to do it, I need

to look into myself and get all of these things and if I don't deal with whatever

issues I have. If I don't address them I'm not going to get any better that's my

belief and she worked it for me to get into the program July 2004 I came here, by

October 2005 I was minimum; I found it took me awhile. 89

Furthermore, I asked her if she felt that compared to some white women who were also

doing time, whether or not she felt her race might have played a factor in the amount of time it took for her to reach minimum classification:

Lauren: I don't know. I just felt for me mine took long because I met my

requirements and I worked for something I'm entitled to why am I not getting it?

And I'm not talking just classification, but in general. And race does put a play in

it coming in here don't do nothing, belligerent, sitting there, get charges up in seg

(segregation), do this and that, yet they [white women] can get more.. .they are

entitled to more, and that's within institution, National Parole Board, the whole

shebang. I just find the ones who work for it and should be out of here, are not and

the ones that come knocking back at the front door of GVI are the ones getting out

on a regular, but in the long run when they decide to do the penalizing our own are

getting, I just find Black people are getting stiffer sentences than the white people

in this place. I've been here so long and seen all the Black women coming in here

and getting very stiff sentences. If you have five Black people that come in here,

even if it's a schedule one offence regardless what it is, out of those five Black

people you may find two of them may get out. The schedule one offence could be

a four year sentence for schedule one and you have somebody that is - not APR

(Accelerated Parole Release) - out of the ten people, seven whites, five Blacks, my

calculations may be bad - but you'll find six of the whites will be able to get out

and they're on similar offences and so it looks good and balanced; two Black 90

people will get out. Out of that you won't even see the two Black people that you

let out come back, but out of the seven [whites] six of them will come back, if not

they all come back and the Black people they should have let out even though

they are doing long sentences and are entitled to come out and have improved and

progressed they are not getting out, they are denied for whatever excuse reason

they want to deny them for. so you don't see a balance they may do it so they - to

make it look like [they are not] letting out white people and leaving in Black but

there is just more and more Black people coming in with stiffer sentences.

Similar concerns were echoed by Cyndi L. when talking about the lack of prison personnel of colour to accompany Black women on Escorted Temporary Absences

(ETAs):

Cyndi L.: It was hard because in doing to ETAs its mostly what you call it, to me

I just feel like, I'm not saying that white people can't bring me home because my

home is gonna meet my Black parents but what I'm saying is I would feel more

comfortable with a Black person carrying me home where my mother could you

know stand and they could deal together, like a white person bring me home from

here and like my mother offered her something to eat and she refuse it and she

skinned up her face and everything you know what I mean and when she start to

smell it and see what the food was about she wanted it and she end up eating it

and her belly was full and everything and she felt good and everything and at the 91

same time we were there laughing because we're thinking 'oh because we're Black

she didn't want to eat from us in the first place' you know those are the things we

have to go through here. And to get an ETA takes so long for a Black person

because there's no Black people that volunteer to come in here and take us out

there its mostly white and the white really don't.. .they give their white people

more priority before you.. .so that's done a lot on us and plus the guards in here

there is a lot of them that is very very good with us - they don't watch the colour

and there's lots of them that does watch the colour because right now the lady

that's is in V & C (Visits and Contacts), to me she is very prejudice so I had to go

above her to get my stuff them that I really supposed to they tell me that this is

what you supposed to have and yet still she wants so withhold if from me I had to

go a higher up to get it.

The concerns that Chantal, Lauren, and Cyndi L. outlined crosscut other issues

such as irrelevant programming and lack of racial representation among the staff. By

Lauren stating that she "had a Black PW", the meaning associated with that indicates that

she expected a possible sense of compassion, empathy or even understanding. However, increased numbers of Black staff does not necessitate camaraderie especially when one is part of the dominant system; and same skin colour does not guarantee solidarity.

Disrupting the homogeneity of Blackness asks us to continually make visible the differences within and among Black women and men. Additionally, the CHRC (2003) document further outlines that when classifying a prisoner, any effects of mental or 92

physical health, and her social history should be taken into consideration (p. 27). Women prisoners in general and specifically Aboriginal women tend to be overclassified as maximum security risks (CAEFS, 2004). In some cases mental health issues are construed as a women being higher risk, when actually what she may require are higher needs such as specific psychological counselling, grief and loss counselling or any other form of treatment that is specialized. In congruence with this argument, in a discussion concerning the over-classification of women prisoners, one member of a Citizen's

Advisory Committee stated that "Women who are illiterate or do not function at a high level or have anger management issues tend to be classified higher". Another submission in the report stated that "... by equating "mental disability" with risk, the classification system perpetuates the negative stereotype that women with mental illness are dangerous or violent" (quoted in CHRC, 2003, p. 29).

Grand Valley Institution for Women was opened in January 1997. It is one of the five regional prisons recommended by the Task Force for Federally Sentenced Women

(TFFSW) in their 1990 Creating Choices report. This document made recommendations towards better care for incarcerated women who is some cases are working towards mental health, substance use recovery, and reintegration back into society. And therein lies the problematic: we see prisons as separate from our respective societies. And by extension we see prisoners, as separate from our societies as well. We ask for prisoners to be reintegrated back into society, but prisons are a part of our environments. As Lauren, states "[there is] shame and stigma for Black women who are in prison..." Clearly, the mainstream popular rhetoric dictates that once incarcerated you are literally and 93

figuratively removed - you no longer belong.

The Correctional Service of Canada:36 A Brief Overview

A look at the treatment and punishment of women in prison in this country reflects

attitudes of a paternalistic nature, never questioning or challenging whether

prisons are really a reasonable response to women's crime. It becomes obvious

that the objective of women's prisons is to recreate and reinforce the

subordination and submission of women according to the sexist [and racist]

authority of patriarchy37

In 1965 the Canadian government commissioned the Canadian Committee on

Corrections to conduct a study of the criminal justice system (Gamberg, 1984). This report came to be known as the Ouimet Report, and it specifically outlined what direction penology in Canada should take. However, because the custody of prisoners is divided between federal and provincial governments, "a number of correctional programs in

Canada are administered on the basis of federal/provincial agreements and cost-sharing schemes generated out of bilateral or multilateral discussions between the federal and provincial governments" (Ekstedt and Griffiths, 1988, p. 72). In order to "cost-share" effectively, the Ouimet Report designed a model of reformation based intrinsically on community corrections. The report stated that unless

36 Unless otherwise noted, all information presented in this subsection in relation to the CSC is attributed to the Correctional Service of Canada website http://www.csc-scc.gc.ca. 37 Criminal Histories Not So Dangerous, [Online] available: http://www.ven.bc.ca/augustl0/current3.htm 94

there are reasons to the contrary, the correction of an offender should take place in

the community, where the acceptance of a treatment relationship is more natural,

where family and social relationships can be maintained...through involvement

rather that confinement (Ouimet 1969 as cited in Gamberg, 1984, p. 100-101).

For this reason, many of the principles governing the Correctional Service of Canada were rooted in this philosophical idea. This idea of 'cost-sharing' does not take into consideration the material conditions of women's lives. For example, many Black women in prison often experience shame and stigma associated with having a criminal record.

Some of the women I interviewed talked about the shame and double oppression they experience being Black and socially labelled "criminals". Community modes of rehabilitation therefore ought to take into account how racialization processes affect

Black women's lives in order to test the efficacy of the report's suggestion and prioritize research with Black women in prison.

In terms of legislative policy, as of 1992 the primary legislation governing the

CSC and the National Parole Board is the Corrections and Correctional Release Act.

This act replaced the 1868 Penitentiary Act and the 1959 Parole Act. More specifically, under the terms of Canada's Constitution, responsibility for corrections is divided between federal and provincial governments whereby the following responsibilities are defined: 95

(a) The Correctional Service of Canada (CSC) is an agency of the Ministry

of the Attorney General. They are responsible for persons serving sentences

of two years or longer (including life sentences). The CSC is headed by the

Commissioner of Corrections. They are headquartered in Ottawa.

(b) Provinces are responsible for persons sentenced to probation and prison

terms of less than two years as well as youth corrections.

(c) The National Parole Board makes conditional release decisions for people

held in federal and territorial institutions and in provincial facilities of seven

provinces (Quebec, Ontario, and British Columbia have their own parole

boards for people in their custody).

The three main laws38 governing corrections in Canada are:

• Corrections and Conditional Release Act

• Criminal Code of Canada

• Criminal Records Act

Under the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA) the purpose of the federal correctional system is to contribute to the maintenance of a just, peaceful and safe society by:

(a) "carrying out sentences imposed by courts through the safe and humane

custody and supervision of offenders; and

For an in depth explanation of these laws please see the website http://www.justice.gc.ca Long title: An Act respecting the criminal law, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-46, as amended. 96

(b) assisting the rehabilitation of offenders and their reintegration into the

community as law-abiding citizens through the provision of programs in

penitentiaries and in the community"

One of the main guiding principles for this Act states that the protection of society should be the paramount consideration in the corrections process. The CSC argues that one of their main functions is in the central role of risk assessment and rehabilitation in law. As mentioned earlier, in Canada, prisoners sentenced to two years or more are sent to a penitentiary as this falls under the jurisdiction of the federal government. This jurisdictional rule was, in part, based on the perception of who a 'criminal' actually was.

For example, it was argued that prisoners (either men or women) who received a sentence of less than two years were regarded as "ordinary" people who "needed a lesson" while those who received longer sentences were "seen as criminals whom it was necessary to separate from ordinary people" (Ouimet Committee 1969, as cited in Ekstedt and

Griffiths, 1988, p. 47). Furthermore, reformation practices were seen as educational and vocational training that could be attained during short sentences allowing for the reintegration of young, first time prisoners back in to society (Skinner et al 1981, as cited in Ekstedt and Griffiths, 1988, p. 47). The CSC, along with the Canadian judicial system purports to work and protect the best interests of society. However a critical analysis of rehabilitation processes for women in prison examines why this isn't an accurate statement. 97

When the bodies of women, many of whom are women of colour are condemned to punishment, ownership of their bodies is simultaneously condemned to the state.

Moreover, state incarcerated female bodies present a physical template upon which to map discourses of gender, race, science and conquest. With this in mind, we turn our attention to an area of research historically negated by sociologists and in particular anthropologists - that is, the doing of fieldwork and research with human participants. In this chapter we have explored how colonial spaces of confinement were constructed.

These spaces are raced and gendered and inherently connected to discourses of domination and oppression. In the next chapter we take a more specific exploration into some of the tensions involved in the process of doing fieldwork. We tackle this issue at this point in the dissertation in order to build upon much of the discussion from the three previous chapters. Our goal, then, is to draw connections between historical processes of domination, and the activity of doing research and writing. 98

CHAPTER 4

CRISSCROSSING PATHS AND WORKING IT OUT: RACE, RACISM, AND DE- COLONIZING RESEARCH METHODOLOGIES

Indigenous peoples want to tell our own stories, write our own versions, in our own ways, for our own purposes. It is not simply about giving an oral account of a genealogical naming of the land and the events which raged over it, but a very powerful need to give testimony to and restore a spirit, to bring back into existence a world fragmented and dying.

Linda Tuhiwai Smith (1999)

This chapter specifically argues for Black feminist intersections of critical race and legal theory to be included in research and pedagogical practices and discussions of and with incarcerated women, especially in terms of anti-racist research and de­ colonizing feminist methodologies. In an effort to explore how these dialogues are ongoing contestations that illuminate the explicit need for anti-racist feminist de­ colonizing methodologies and praxis, I explore the need for an intersectional anti-racist analysis of punishment processes to be at the forefront of all methodological research design. Consequently, it serves to remember that any form of social phenomena (race, class, gender), defines and constructs many of the ideas and representations that we have about criminality. In retrospect, women prisoners are represented as sexually deviant, undervalued and "different" from the prescribed social norm. Therefore anti-racist feminist de-cololonizing research is grounded in the notion that the politics of 99

incarceration for racialized women in the Canadian judicial system lacks insight into the intersectionality of race, gender, class and colonial history. Our goal in this chapter is to provide an exploration into modes of knowledge production and how the rigorous dissemination of Eurocentric dominant ideologies maintains the working of racism, sexism, and class in a variety of environments, specifically when conducting research about Black women in prison. We are reminded, as Daniel (2005) argues that it is problematic to apply European research paradigms to non-white bodies (p. 54).

The Theoretical Framework/Theoretically framing the 'work'

The Black woman's body in many ways serves as a 'site' upon which various tropes and discourses of hatred are mapped out. Historically the Canadian state has had a precarious and more often than not, insidious relationship with the exertion and coercion of hegemonic power over women's bodies. This relationship is explicitly illuminated when exploring the discursive and ideological imprisonment of women. Prisons, then, are political 'sites' that demonstratively open up spaces for engaging in the dialectics of sexuality, race, gender, and law. Thus far, I have argued that the judicial system uses prisons as a form of social control dependent on state configurations of power, ideology, gender, and race and how these interlink with ideas of citizenship and belonging. As such, there is a need for effective reintegration programming in prison that connects in a more visceral way to the lived experiences of Black women.

My methodological approach to this research involved using Black feminist approaches to contextualize the intersections of race and racism, critical feminist 100

criminology, and feminist theories. The significance of Black feminist thought as a conceptual frame draws from the work of Patricia Hill Collins (1990/2000) who argues the specialized knowledge and experiences of African-American women [and I would add African-Canadian women] gives rise to Black feminist thought. The legacy of struggle as connected to the dimensions of historical and contemporary dialogues around intersecting variables (race, sex, class) make the connections between knowledge and power unique to Black women (Collins, 2000, p, xi), providing a particular standpoint from which to contextualize oppression. As an ethnographic exploration, in order to work within what Julia Sudbury calls "new directions and methodological approaches for the field of prison studies" (2008, p. xxii), I have structured my dissertation to rely heavily on the words and experiences of the women I interviewed. Sudbury's work has been influential in this sense as her work calls for transnational approaches and connections with activism when conducting research with and on incarcerated Black women. My goal was not to ascertain a truth-seeking, fact finding mission; rather I was interested in documenting the narratives of Black women in order to allow for agency in the production of their own discourse and knowledge. This is significant because essential re- integrative services that address (lack of) access to education and in particular literacy programs, job-market orientation and mental health concerns are some of the social issues that persistently relate to incarcerated Black women. Centering the narratives of Black women is necessary in order to legitimate their experiences. When women are able to make choices and promote changes specific to their life experience (Brock, 1998) their 101

experiences become supported and validated, and in many cases they are able to work towards self-empowerment and agency.

A further theoretical concern in this research involved crossing boundaries/blurring the lines between researcher and advocate. My insider/outsider status and my community work as a women's prison worker allows me to have particular knowledges about the inner workings of prisons. In addition, disclosure of particulars or mitigating circumstances surrounding the crimes women are charged with might have forced the termination of my project or gotten me involved in legal situations that could have caused me to abandon my project. The process of doing anti-racist and anti- oppressive research is elaborated on in a latter section of this chapter.

Gaining access to the only Federal prison for women in Ontario was critical. My background and experience as the Women's Prison Worker for a community agency meant that I had already been granted access41 to work with incarcerated women through my employment. Overall, I conducted ten interviews with incarcerated women. Of these women, nine out often identified as being Black of African and/or Caribbean descent, while one woman identified as being of mixed raced (Aboriginal and Black). Seven out of ten were Canadian born, two were Grenadian born, and one was born in Anguilla. The youngest interviewee was 19 years of age, with the oldest being 47 years old. Their

40 The community agency that I am employed by is called the the Prisoner's HIV/AIDS Support Action Network (PASAN). In my capacity as the Women's Prison Coordinator, I currently work with women in both provincial and federal custody. We are the only agency in North America that works with HIV and co- infected Hepatitis C positive prisoners and ex-prisoners. We are a non-profit agency and do not take funding from Corrections. 41 Due to my employment as the Women's Prison Coordinator I have 'Regional Clearance' from the National Headquarters in Ottawa. This means that I am cleared to enter any federal correctional facility in Canada. In light of this, access into federal institutions is still contingent on a case by case basis. 102

sentences ranged in length from two to 10 years. Five of the women disclosed that they were classified42 as "minimum status"; two were classified as "medium". Of the ten women, seven had children, who due to their circumstances were being cared for either by the Children's Aid Society (as per their region of residence) or by family members.

The interviews were conducted either in the prison chapel, the audio-visual room where the Black Women of Diversity (formerly BIFA) group meetings were also held, or in the quiet room43.1 consciously made the effort to structure my dissertation and research so that it would be driven by the narratives of the women I interviewed. I kept the subtle nuances that are sometimes edited out for stylistic purposes when interviews are conducted. Therefore, colloquial language verbatim is included. I found that this process also strengthened my research as it often led to other questions and commentaries on issues that I had not originally sought to ask.

Limitations

The complexity of the notion of 'history' belies that history is not neutral; neither is the language of history. What 'history' is, who writes it, and how it gets written are important salient questions to ask. It is not enough for us to simply critique European ideology as some sort of paradigmatic framework (Bannerji, 1994). Consequently, then, we need to shift "our gaze to the social relations of its production, until knowledge itself can be seen as a form of social relation" (Bannerji, 1994, p. 23). The ways in which many

42 Security ratings designated to prisoners is based on the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA). For a more in depth discussion of classification see Chapter 3. 43 A small room located on the main floor across from the audio-visual room. This room is usually used for meditation, reading or time alone. 103

learn about Black women's history in Canada is that it has been re-told and re-written,

often not in the voices of Black women. Dominant Euro-ideologies erase the history of a

group of people, re-inscribing and re-presenting that group as the constructed 'other':

If 'knowing' consists of 'a relation between the knower and the known'44, then it

follows that the content of that knowing is deeply informed by that relation which

also dictates and reflect the 'terms' of understanding which are embedded in it.

They constitute the knower's historical and social knowledge apparatus (Bannerji,

1994, p. 31).

As mentioned previously, knowledges constructed about Black women have been

inaccurately re-written from Eurocentric standpoints. Further, the concepts of knower,

knowledge producer, and rescuer elucidate how historical European ways of treating

colonized communities have traversed into contemporary manifestations of socio-political

exclusion and processes of democratic racism that lead to marginalization and racial

discrimination.

A research project of this scope presents many challenges. There are seemingly

obvious limitations when seeking to interview persons confined in highly restricted

spaces. Prisons represent a loss of civil liberties and deprivation of rights. That also is applicable in some ways to persons entering the prison such as researchers. Whether it is

44 As noted in her work, Bannerji here is referring here to the relationship between knowing and ideology from Dorothy E. Smith's 'The Everyday World as Problematic: A Feminist Sociology' (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987). 104

for research or personal visitation purposes, the power of surveillance is always at play.

The lack of personal privacy for prisoner and visitor means that at any time restrictions

can be imposed by prison authorities that could temporarily halt or permanently cease the

research. As a visitor one can be denied entry to the facility if the Warden or

Superintendents feel that the project is causing a disruption to the everyday structure of

running the facility. Prisoners, too, may face denial of participating in the project if for

whatever reason they are not granted passes for meeting with the researcher to conduct

the interview. Further, there is a sense of uncertainty, that as a researcher I felt when

conducting my interviews. I was determined to conduct confidential interviews, yet there

is a pervasive lack of confidentiality within prison walls. Outsider and insider news

travels at fervent speed and therefore, I was always aware that building trust with the

women I interviewed and protecting their anonymity was of the utmost importance.

The size of the sample for this research can also be considered a point of

contention. Clearly the small sample size cannot be used for an all encompassing

representation for incarcerated Black women. The stories they have to tell are numerous,

complex, heterogeneous and fluid. The slice that I have presented here is the beginning of many more threads that can be woven together in a number of different ways. For

example, the interview questions were guidelines for entering into discussions with

women about their life experiences and how these have shaped the ways in which they navigate the prison system.

Decolonizing methodologies also means that as a researcher, I, too, face similar

challenges when negotiating the insider/outsider dynamic. My dilemma in doing this 105

work comes from my own self-reflexive knowledge that as a university educated, non- incarcerated person, I could participate in the reproduction of colonial frameworks and understandings. I am writing as a neo-colonized body, with particular educational, class, and ability privileges, yet I am simultaneously writing as a marginalized and racialized woman re/articulating the experiences of other marginalized and racialized women. How, then, can neo-colonized bodies not re-write the atrocities of colonialism when writing about neo-colonized Others? In other words, I am aware that I write and conduct research as a Black woman, demarcated as a racialized Othered body, yet I also occupy the simultaneous positions of academic privilege and racial marginality in the academy. This positionality has implications for my research, teaching, and activist pursuits. The outsider/insider dilemma rears its head in both academic and activist spaces due to the continual effect of white domination. Patricia Hill Collins reminds us "it should come as no surprise that Black women's efforts in dealing with the effects of interlocking systems of oppression might produce a standpoint quite distinct from, and in many ways opposed to, that of white... insiders" (1991, p. 49). It stands to reason, then, that the importance of intersectionality (race, class, gender, sexuality, dis/ability) in activist and academic spaces highlights that "Black women's struggles are part of a wider struggle for human dignity, empowerment, and social justice" (Collins, 2000, p. 41). This means that the various ways in which Blacks see the world is never in isolation of the colonial herstories/subject positions that they occupy. The importance of Canadian Black feminist, anti-racist decolonizing research methodologies as standpoint theories for anti-prison work is 106

grounded in diverse knowledges that refocus, retell, and restore Black women's knowledge as central to the debate rather than resting on the periphery.

Moreover, how does centering Canadian Black feminist thought inside and outside the classroom have implications for Canadian Black Feminist Criminological pedagogical practices? Furthermore, how might shared colonial histories and commonalities affect this practice as Black women academics struggle to negotiate their

"outsider within status" in the academy as well as simultaneously affirm the importance of self-definition (Collins, 1991, p. 36-37)? In order to not re/create an essentialist framework in my work, my self-reflexive writing extends beyond simply stating that I am aware of the subject position I occupy in my environment. By consciously making an attempt to write my subject-self into my work, I aim to make available to the reader all of the tensions that inform my research. Embedded in this work is the notion that knowledge and language construct meaning. Connecting ideological threads of how knowledge is produced is magnified via the trajectory that is paved through writing and research. As a result, the researcher can never disconnect herself from the historical acculturation processes that have shaped ways of knowing that aid her in making sense of the world around her.

In terms of exploring how the reproduction of racism affects the lives of Black women in prison and upon their release, we ought to question the causal effects of racism for social reintegration as well as how this relationship is connected to ideas about researching citizenship. Because we live in a "fractured and contradictory world" (Mehta,

2009, p. 235), the politics of participation in this project is also the project of re-writing 107

citizenship as a racialized researcher. This has implications for the output of this work, in an effort not to engage in processes of re-colonization of women interviewed. This is what Mehta refers to when she argues that academics, activists, community workers and researchers face the messiness and contradictions of researching citizenship, but seldom engage in the self-reflexive exercise of unpacking these tensions (2009, p. 236). How do we do this work? The acquisition of knowledge production is heavily dependent on fieldwork, yet often the final version of the work is sanitized in order to hide the sometimes very heavy price that has been paid in material processes of doing the work

(Mehta, 2009, p. 236-237). Based on these concerns, how are we as researchers to seek the participation of Black women in prison when their participation may be highly contested? How do we write the effects of our "fractured and contradictory world" without doing harm? To begin to answer these questions, and in our effort to decolonize research methodologies, we must consistently situate ourselves and the subject positions we occupy within the context of our research, We ought to collaborate with, as opposed to speak for, those we seek to learn from; and we must continually push through the socio-political and cultural boundaries that rely on difference as the marker of social inadequacy and exclusion. 108

CHAPTER 5

THIS SIDE OF THE RAZOR WIRE: MAPPING BLACK FEMINIST == CRIMINOLOGY IN CANADA ==

African Canadian women occupy spaces that are framed by race and gender, two socially constructed categories that are situated in a position that appears to be diametrically opposed to the white, European, male paradigms. These paradigms are presented as the norm in both the public and private spheres, wherein the reigns of power are contained.

The representations of the African Canadian woman are fraught with contradictions; she is simultaneously invisible and visible.

Beverly-Jean Daniel (2005)

Having worked out my methodological approach to this work, I turn my attention here to a more specific engagement with theories of feminism, race and racism and criminology. Thus far, the preceding chapters have set the roadmap for discussions in this chapter. Ideas for the development of this chapter come out of the arguments preceded in the last four chapters, in particular my fieldwork. In order to contextualize new philosophical terrains in women's studies, social sciences and criminology, this chapter seeks to bridge the qualitative gap between Black feminist thought and critical feminist criminology ultimately culminating in a new field of inquiry called Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology (CBFC). Traditionally, feminist criminologists (white women) focused on gender only and excluded issues of race and racism. A counter response to traditional feminist criminology was the emergence of a field of inquiry known as Critical 109

Race Feminism (CRF) which was established to specifically address the legal concerns of women of colour (Wing, 2003). Canadian Black Feminist Criminology focuses on the intersection of race, class, gender, sexuality, and law whereby Black women's experiences are at the center of all legal discussions. The law has worked in many divergent ways to position the experiences and voices of Black women as peripheral and marginal. When the law is positioned as neutral the legitimization of Black women's experiences are cast as "special interest" and the inner working of systemic racism evident in the criminal justice is silenced. This chapter will explore how Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology uses Black feminist thought as a standpoint theory exploring how race and racism are interconstituted through feminist legal discourse and attendant notions of citizenship and belonging. In other words, how do relations concerning race, gender and law interface with the social reproduction of citizenship and belonging? And by extension, how does this social reproduction affect the lives of incarcerated Black women and rehabilitation processes?

With my research project developed, I next had to grapple with theoretical questions about how to write about Black women without reifying the concept of race. As mentioned at the beginning of this work, because the concept of race is socially constructed, it may not be a useful analytical category for social science research.

However, in this research, in order to move towards theoretical developments for

Canadian Black Feminist Criminology I want to make visible the workings of racism in the lives of Black women in prison and in our wider society as connected to citizenship and belonging. In order to do this, I do have to rely on the concept of race, as an 110

ideological social category that has demarcated the various ways in which Black women negotiate their social, cultural and political lives. The topic, does however, warrant more attention, and for now we examine the necessity of race discourse and research methods when writing about and for Black women in prison.

Integrated Theory and Praxis: CRF informs CBFC

Critical race feminism can be defined as a tool for empowerment, resistance and pedagogical praxis related to activist initiatives and that which specifically addresses the legal concerns of women of colour (Wing, 2003) by placing the experiences of women of colour at the center of all legal discussions. This paradigmatic field of inquiry offers a critical look at the readings and experiences of Hispanic, Black, Asian, and Aboriginal women45. According to Adrien Katherine Wing, "Critical Race Feminism emerged at the end of the twentieth century to emphasize the legal concerns of a significant group of people—those who are both women and members of today's racial/ethnic minorities as well as disproportionately poor" (2003, p. 1). Here, we use critical race feminism as a paradigmatic bridge to theorizing Canadian Black Feminist Criminology.

Further, critical race feminism bridges the gap between white-thematic feminism and gender-neutral civil rights discourse46. By examining the narratives of Black, Asian,

45 The use of these terms is not meant to essentialize groupings of women. We use these terms in a broad sense in order to illustrate that the field of critical race feminism is inclusive and expansive. 46 Patricia Hill-Collins (1990/2000), bell hooks (1984), Aida Hurtado (1996) and Richard Delgado (1995) have noted the disjuncture between race and gender in the early American civil rights movement. Their arguments deconstruct how Black women's voice and experience were trumped in lieu of racial rights. In many ways the American civil rights movement of the 1960s was informed by patriarchy and sexism, and many Black women felt that they had to choose either to fight racial oppression or gender oppression, but not both. See P. Hill Collins, 1990/2000; b. hooks, Feminist theory: From margin to center (Boston: South Ill

Latina, and Aboriginal women in relation to their experiences with the legal system, feminists writings on race have taken up divergent issues that are embedded within critical race feminism, which might not always be readily identified as within the purview of critical race feminism, but are just as relevant. For example, Aida Hurtado (1996) tackles cross-racial feminism and explores how gender subordination played a key role in the 1960s Chicano Movement. Moraga and Anzaldua (2002) present a volume of work written, directed and produced by women of colour who expressly and explicitly strip their souls bare as they write from experience about intersectional forms of oppression, punctuated by poetry, personal anecdotes and artwork. The relevance of critical race feminism as a theoretical tool embedded within Canadian Black feminist criminological theorizing serves not only to enhance the fluidity and multi-vocality of Black women's experiences, but also presents a transnational space whereby anti-essentialist understandings of multiple oppressions are actualized. Critical Race Feminism can help us understand the different experiences that Black women encounter when in contact with the Canadian Criminal Justice System, particularly when "multiple conflicting voices and projects are recognized while tensions are left unresolved" (Shohat, 1998 as cited in Hua,

2003, p. 9).

A move towards Canadian Black Feminist Criminology seeks to explore how

Black feminist perspectives and critical race feminism negotiate this spatial difference between and among women in regards to incarceration. A good place to begin is by

End Press, 1984); R. Delgado (ed.), Critical race theory: The cutting edge (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1995); A. Hurtado, The colour of privilege: Three blasphemies on race and feminism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996). 112

including and legitimizing multi-vocal and multi-dimensional feminist frameworks.

These frameworks needn't only include the voices of academics, but also the necessary

narratives of previously or currently incarcerated women. Organizations such as the

Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies (CAEFS), the Aboriginal Women's

Council of Saskatchewan, and the Manitoba Action Committee on the Status of Women

have argued that there is some correlation between crimes women are convicted of and

the conditions of these women's lives. Socio-economic factors, domestic violence, rape,

and racism can all contribute in some way to women committing crimes. While this is an

important argument, I am not arguing that all women are victims, because that discredits

women's agency and self-imbued power.47 Moreover, in terms of advocacy, Canadian

Black Feminist Criminology opens up spaces for dialoguing about some of the

contentious issues that abound when doing advocacy for women prisoners. For example,

organizations such as the Elizabeth Fry Societies work with women in contact with the

law, but also receive funding from Corrections Canada in order to deliver rehabilitation programs in prisons. Because of this, Elizabeth Fry Society organizations are only able to work with women who have reporting48 conditions. For me, it proves challenging to do advocacy for women in prison when one is bound by the fiscal restraints of neo-colonial agents (Canadian State). Taking funding from corrections can also be construed as yet another reformation of capitalist imperatives contributing to the subjugation of women in prison and upon release. Further, many women are reluctant to trust organizations or

47 For further reading on modes of resistance and empowerment See K. Hannah-Moffat, Punishment in disguise (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001); M. Bosworth, Engendering resistance: Agency and power in women'sprisons (Brookfield, VT: Ashgate, 1999). 48 This refers to women who are still under the jurisdiction of the Corrections and have been mandated to a halfway house to serve out the remainder of their sentence. 113

community workers who are in some way fiscally tied to Corrections .

As we work towards developing the theoretical framework for Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology, the politics of incarceration, also asks 1) how do we conceptualize punishment for perpetrators of crimes against women and girls (particularly sexual assaults, domestic violence, and child abuse) when that same state sanctioning of punishment and incarceration is used against women? 2) How do we negotiate between and among judicial and social systems that advocate for societal-safety when women in prison are themselves not safe? 3) Is prison in itself, another reformulation of violence and oppression whereby the system of corrections fundamentally defines incarcerated

Black women as deviant and in need for social and moral regulation? And 4) how do women with citizenship and those without negotiate this space of un/belonging upon release from prison, particularly if rehabilitation programming has not been relevant to one's life experiences prior to prison, and in preparation for release?

In an attempt to answer some of these questions, abolitionist and reformation discussions abound (see Chapter 7). For now, any attempt to move towards answering some of the above questions calls for the re-articulation and deconstruction of "woman" as a social and political construct. Part of this pedagogical and ideological deconstruction further involves de-essentializing the theoretical and practical epistemological ways in which this construct is understood and utilized. In regards to the Canadian Criminal

Justice System, a move towards eradicating the subjugation of women includes the

49 Having said this, I also recognize that there are community based agencies that take funding from Corrections in order to maintain continuous access to people in prison. Such a position often means that although one's program curriculum and delivery may be overseen by Corrections, access to prisoners is what is most important. 114

utilization of anti-racist theory and practice at all levels of judicial legislation and administration, and by extension also to various political, personal, and institutional echelons of society including but not limited to educational institutions, social welfare agencies, and healthcare facilities/hospitals. Particularly, in regard to incarceration, it is essential that women in prison feel some sense of security. They should not be at risk for rape, assault, or any other inhumane atrocity. Women should not be used as guinea pigs for drug experiments, nor should their labour be exploited via the big business economic enterprise of the Prison Industrial Complex50.

The stigma surrounding women in prison is attached to definitions of social

'abnormality'. In order for incarcerated women to reintegrate back into communities and for healing to take place, the erasure of social stigma for current and ex-prisoners is essential. If we are bombarded everyday with paternalist hegemonic ideals of who and what constitutes the "good" woman, how do we protect against those ideologies that claim women who don't fit the norm as expendable and worthless?

Theorizing Canadian Black Feminist Criminology

I define Canadian Black Feminist Criminology as a field of inquiry which looks at both the absence of Black women's perspective in criminological discourse as well as the over-exposure of Black women as the "subjugated subjects" (duCille, 1994 as cited in

50 Although not discussed in length in this work, the term 'prison industrial complex' was first coined by Mike Davis (1995) after the publication of his work Hell factories in the field: A prison industrial complex. Conceptually, the term evolves from a take on the military industrial complex as a way to draw comparison to the ways in which prison construction and operation has attracted vast amounts of capital utilizing the construction industry, food corporations, and healthcare provisions. See A. Y. Davis, Are prisons obsolete? (New York: Seven Stories Press, 2003). 115

Daly and Stephens, 1995) of criminological research. My entry into this field of inquiry has been influenced by the work of Daly and Stephens (1995) who argue for Black feminist thought to be more fully integrated in criminological theorizing. In addition,

Daly and Stephens forefront that because racial and ethnic relations are often oversimplified into a Black/white duality, it is critical that Black feminist thought as a theorizing domain be aware of the relational histories of racialized persons, particularly in the field of criminology. Canadian Black Feminist Criminology centers Black feminist approaches to contextualizing the intersections of race and racism and critical race feminism in relation to the legal system. The significance of Black feminist thought as a conceptual frame for this work draws from my theoretical research investigating the commonalities of struggle and resistance among the lives of Aboriginal and Black women living in Canada. As discussed in the beginning of this work, the connections between these two groups of women is profound - particularly in terms of social marginalization, political disenfranchisement, state violence, poverty, sexism, criminal sanctions, and racism. With this in mind, more expansive theoretical goal of Canadian Black Feminist

Criminology is to bridge the qualitative gap between Black feminist thought and feminist criminology ultimately culminating in a paradigm that is grounded in narrative exploration of the impact of incarceration on Black women's lives during and upon their release from penal institutions. In order to do this, this work is not preoccupied with the crimes that Black women have been sentenced for. Rather the conceptual goal of this work is to explore how the racialization of Black women has been a central feature to

Canadian nation state formation, how ideas of citizenship and belonging have aided in 116

shaping the legal system's response to Black women in contact with the law, and how the documentation of Black women's experiences while incarcerated are central to feminist criminological theorizing.

Feminist criminology can be divided into two distinct phases: the first begins in the late 1960s and the second in the late 1980s. In between these two decades, there is a period during the 1970s when feminist criminologists located much of their work in sexualization theories of women's offending - that is problematizing the notion that women who deviate from the norms of morality and sexuality are seen to be deviant.

During the 1970s, feminist criminology began to theoretically move in the direction past deviance theories of crime, and address the lack of inquiry regarding women in criminological study (Marshall, 1994). One of the earliest works to begin to address feminist criminology was Carol Smart's (1976) Women, Crime and Criminology: A

Feminist Critique. This British publication questioned whether feminism had a place in criminology and conversely, what criminological study could offer feminism (Gelsthorps, n.d.). In her work, Smart is questioning whether a balance could be found between

'woman' and 'criminology' as opposed to examining 'female criminality' as something innate or pathological. She argues that "[o]f course there are differences [between men and women] but those differences which exist and which are relevant to an understanding of criminal behaviour are culturally determinate rather than a reflection of the natural qualities of the sexes (1976, p. 176). Smart further elaborates that even criminological texts written by women, contain sexist and derogatory references that support paternalist criminological study. Although Smart's work at the time was considered groundbreaking, 117

her lack of analysis regarding race was akin to much early feminist theorizing that took

place at that time.

Although scholars such as Bertrand (1969) and Heidensohn (1968; 1970), as cited

in Gelsthorpe (n.d.) challenged the erasure of women in criminology, it is during the later

second phase of feminist criminological study that theorists began to acknowledge that

women's experiences were, in part constructed by legal and criminological discourses

(Daley and Maher, 1998). Much of this work resided in the United States and it is here

that even today, feminist American criminologists remain committed to concerns

critiquing criminological theories that fail to consider gender, and empirical studies

focusing on women as lawbreakers (Daly and Maher, 1998).

In Canada, not much was different. Historically, Canadian criminology as a

discipline has been theorized from a male-dominated point of view. As an "andocentric

discipline" (Chunn and Menzies, 1995) historic conservative ideals of women as

subjugated objects occupied much of the academic and practical premise of the discipline.

In part, this was due to the fact that the numbers of women in contact with the law were

few. More accurately, in terms of the production of criminological analysis on women

and girls "women's exclusion from the regime of rationality in academia has been

achieved largely through their sexual objectification by men, and has been experienced as

a 'chilly climate' characterized by insensitivity, confrontation and/or sexual harassment"

(Smith 1992a as cited in Chunn and Menzies, 1995, p. 143). In regard to the work that

Chunn and Menzies have explored, they have failed to examine the racial implications or lack thereof of engendering the discipline of criminology. The exclusion of Black women 118

in criminology has been and still is a matter of gender and racial exclusion. And the re­ writing of criminology from an engendered perspective void of racial analysis and implications is wrought with discontent at best, and the re-inscribing of white supremacy.

Regarding theoretical contextualization of 'women's crime', definitions of crime have changed over time and particular laws focusing more on sex work, petty theft, and public intoxication have affected the numbers of women being arrested and convicted.

The Canadian state views these 'fallen women' not only as degenerates, but also those who did not fit the historical sex-gender ideological tenets of womanhood, and therefore unfit representatives of 'Mothers of the Nation.' Moving forward, contemporary theorizing about criminology from feminist perspectives called for gender-awareness to be included in any and all criminological theory and study. The premise of the inception of the work being conducted in this new research area at the time, however, played heavily into whiteness and white privilege. Not unlike traditional feminist theorizing regarding the first and second waves of the feminist movement, feminist criminological theorizing was done by white women, for white women. According to Alison Bailey white women who face the "dilemma of white privilege awareness [are] trapped in the awkward position of knowing that it is both impossible to dispose of [white] privilege and impossible to take advantage of it without perpetuating the systems of domination we wish to demolish" (author emphasis, Bailey, 1999, p. 86). In terms of re-visiting the importance of Black Feminist frameworks for the study of criminology, White and

Haines (2004) point out that the impact of race and/or ethnicity on women prisoners is important to the study of criminology - we make this connection here to the 119

disproportionate overrepresentation of Black and Aboriginal women in prison in Canada.

Second, feminist criminology while focusing on the sexualisation thesis of women's offending, also focuses on victimology - in particular the victimization of women and the subjugated position of many women in our respective societies. Conversely, it is critical to explore that crimes based on traditional ideologies of femininity denies women's diversity and promotes gender-based objectification and stereotyping51 (Faith, 1993, as cited in Messerschmidt, 1995). In addition, while victimization studies should aim to highlight the specific crimes in which women are victims, an examination of masculinities and the role that masculinities play in these crimes should also be examined.

Examinations of the plight of racialized women in contact with the law lacked insight into the intersectionality of race, gender, class and sexuality, particularly since many of the 'fallen women' incarcerated by the Canadian state during the 19th and 20th century were of colour. Furthermore, issues of white privilege grounded much of the sociological theoreticism evident in criminological discourse. According to Daly and

Maher,

[w]hite criminology avoids 'the race issue' because of racism both in the

discipline and the wider society, a lack of theoretical grounding in what racial-

ethnic relations and identities are, and too few scholars of colour in criminology

who are in a position to take on white criminology (1998, p. 5).

51 Feminist criminologists are not arguing that all women are victims. Positioning women solely as victims negates their agency and modes of resistance. 120

Young and Sulton (1991) cited in Daly and Stephens (1995) have noted this trend, arguing that "African Americans [and I would add Black Canadians] contributions to criminology have been ignored: excluded from the books edited by white authors or journals with white editorial boards, not on policy-making boards of criminology organizations, nor members of public policy groups among other areas" (p. 197).

Furthermore, the focus on Blacks in criminology does not begin conceptually from the germination of the creation of Black criminology. The former has relied more on the study of Blacks as subjects (see Russell, 1992, as cited in Daly and Stephens, 1995) of crime and/or societal definitions of criminality, whereas the latter calls for a Black criminology "to be planted by Black criminologists" (Russell 1992 Cited in Daly and

Stephens, 1995, p. 198).

The emergence of Black feminist thought as a political and action-oriented theory challenged the gender-as-primary-oppression standpoint that surfaced and subsequently defined white feminist theory during first and second wave feminism. A response to the historical separation and exclusion of the experiences of Black women and other women of colour argued for a critical paradigmatic shift in which the politics of the production of feminist knowledge is critiqued and re-examined. As such, Black women have challenged the canon-like representation of feminist theory by arguing that the production, reinforcement, and re/presentation of race-blind gender-only and/or gender-priority narratives produce secular knowledges that proliferate as commonsensical truths while simultaneously classifying and marginalizing women of colour as "others." As Black 121

women, we can identify with particular struggles and experiences, but we also crosscut difference along lines of class, sexuality, age, and dis/ability. Therefore, when one group of women decides to speak for another, it can illuminate troubling concerns. For example, the social views of upper middle-class Black women may differ from those of poor Black women in terms of access to educational resources or employment skills training, especially if upper middle-class Black women have had the economic means to financially support their education. Poor Black women may have the desire and the will to further their education but not the economic resources to do so. However, both of these groups of women share commonalities in that they may daily be discriminated against due to their race and gender.

Black women produce particular knowledges because our 'selves' are shaped by our (her)stories. Since many Black women in Canada reside on the periphery of society, we occupy positions of resistance and self-determination because in many cases, domination or hegemony renders the oppressed self-reliant (Grosz, 1995). This means that Black women are in a particularly advantageous position in society. According to hooks, our marginality gives us a particular perspective from which to criticize the dominant racist, classist, sexist hegemony as well as to envision and create counter- hegemonies (1984, p. 16). Furthermore, Black feminist thought, as a theoretical framework, pays attention to other ways of conceptualizing feminism that fall outside academic-affiliated definitions. Black feminist thought, therefore occupies multivocal transnational space and gains its strength and momentum from critical exploration through multiple entry points as connected to Black feminist criminological theorizing. 122

E/race-ing the Criminological Disciplinary Landscape

Racism has also played a part in the ways in which studies on incarcerated women have been undertaken. In Canada, the adage 'too few to count' has relegated studies on incarcerated Black women to the margins of social science and sociological inquiry. As well, social justice initiatives investigating the lived experiences of incarcerated Black women in penal institutions have seldom been explored. The carryover from a lack of interest in social justice imperatives, and the meshing together of activism and academia, is an area of research that is significant to our exploration and integration into how incarceration detrimentally affects the socio-economic status of Black women in the 21st century. In our current global environment the marginalized position of Black women in regard to their lack of economic, political, and social resources can be seen as a contributing factor related to the disproportionate numbers of incarcerated Black women.

For example, the Canadian Association of Social Workers (2005) notes that in 2000, 34.5 percent of Black women's wages and salaries in family contexts fell below the low income cut-off of Statistics Canada (the unofficial poverty income line in Canada is

$20,000). The report further indicates that the "incidence of Black women in families who are poor is two and a half times higher than other women in families (13.7 percent) and almost three times higher than men in families (12.0 percent). Among unattached individuals, the discrepancy is not as great but it is still higher - 52.7 percent for Black women compared to 41.9 percent for other women and 33.6 percent for men" (2005, p.

11). Furthermore, Galabuzi (2006) as noted in Das Gupta (2009) argues that the impoverishment of racialized children is twice that of other groups, and there is a gap 123

between the economic performance of racialized and non-racialized [white] groups (p.

26). Therefore, it is imperative that we question the extant ways in which social relations such as poverty, violence against women, racism and classism are historically connected to the contemporary over-representation of incarcerated Black women. Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology as a theoretical standpoint aids us in exploring whether there is a connection among law, the notion of citizenship rights and the Black woman body politic.

Furthermore, Canadian Black Feminist Criminology explores how the social reproduction of the discourse of belonging in 'imagined communities' is interconstituted with societal notions of who has the right to create public legal discourse and by extension be granted

Canadian citizenship. Caught up in this inimical web of insider/outsider political and cultural negotiation are Black women 'doing time' in Canadian federal penal institutions, many of whom have, by the stigma of incarceration, already been deemed outsiders in society. When talking about societal reintegration, Cyndi L. a 44 year old prisoner highlights this point:

Cyndi L.: Yes I am scared because as I say I have accumulated a lot of criminal

record over the years.. .my criminal record is long and I could tell you white,

Black or pink who ever look at my record is not gonna want to hire me straight up

unless then I could explain to them and it's certain work place I would have to

work because nobody's gonna trust me because its mostly stealing on my

record.. .1 do have the education now to do certain things but because of my

criminal record it's gonna pull me back 124

The spatial arrangements of incarceration mean that prisons are "degenerate spaces...established in relation to white bourgeois spaces to produce differing entitlements to power" (Oikawa, 2005, p. 77), and these power relations are contingent upon access to social and political arenas. These spaces of exclusion are raced spaces.

This means that Black women are denied decision-making power in terms of survival resources that are necessary apparatus for success upon release from prison. Therefore contemporary theorizing on race purports that race as a form of social phenomena, pedagogically informs how theories of race and feminism are mitigated in and through legal theory. The 'law' has worked in many divergent ways to re/present and recast the experiences and voices of Black women and 'women of colour' into debates around legitimization of claims (Crenshaw, 1989). Dominique, a 47 year old woman having already served two years and four months at the time of our interview, underscores this point:

Dominique: When I was arrested at the time in 1995521 told the cops that I don't

have anything to do with this situation. I was there when it happened so they

arrested me and they come and arrest the guy after. The cops stereotyped me -

Black girl from the islands, white boy - blue collar white boy, so they said 'you're

a prostitute and we know you trick them and you stab them. They put me in jail

and they let the white guy who actually did the stabbing [get] away.

52For this initial charge in 1995 the charges were eventually dismissed. In 2004, she was unaware that the case had been re-opened and was subsequently re-arrested and sentenced soon thereafter. 125

At the time of her arrest, Dominique had previously finished college in her native country

and subsequently established her own business. She told me that she was on holiday,

visiting her boyfriend, who was a white man living in a predominantly white town in

Canada and not involved in the sex trade business. The reference by the police that she

was "a prostitute" plays into colonial racialized sexual stereotypes about Black women

and racial sexual proclivities. How these claims are translated by various players in the

legal system is positioned in mainstream public discourse as neutral. Neo-liberal

discourses dominate public consciousness about the inner workings of our legal system as

that which operates in conjunction with democratic values of fairness and equality -

regardless of class, race or gender. According to a document produced by Citizenship and

Immigration Canada, under the section Law and order, it reads:

We respect democratic decision making and the 'rule of law'. We promote due

process so that the courts and the police treat everyone fairly and reasonably. We

ensure that our elected governments remain accountable to Canadians (quoted in

Satzewich and Liodakis, 2007, p. 67).

The assumptions of fairness, equality, meritocracy, and jurisprudence are regarded as

ideals tantamount for those who have legally acquired entry into the club of Canadian

citizenship that affords them protection under the Canadian Charter of Rights and

Freedoms. For Dominique, the fact that she was a Black women traveling with a white 126

man in Canada somehow relegated her to the status of 'alien-prostitute'. Dominique's

"non-citizen" status means that once her sentence is completed, she will be deported back to her native country. Her conviction and subsequent federal sentence makes her ineligible to proceed with an application for citizenship in Canada. During our interview,

she told me that she was looking forward to returning "home" in an effort to reconnect with her daughter and get her life back on track.

Consequently, in our current local and global landscape, the dominance of white

supremacist ideology has been suffused in much more subtly-ubiquitous ways. In addition, since knowledge and language construct meaning, the (sometimes) calculated yet sub/conscious duplicitous nature of writing connects to the politics of representation about 'others'. Traditional feminist criminology as a fluid academic discipline entrenched in gender-focused positionalities re-produced notions of racial hierarchy and dominance.

In other words, white feminist criminologists found it difficult to "disconnect themselves from the historical acculturation processes that have shaped ways of knowing that aid them in making sense of the world around them" (Reece, 2007, p. 271). We see this take shape in court proceedings, classrooms, and activist spaces where those in powerful positions seldom examine the subject positions they occupy and how they came occupy those positions.

Theories of race and feminism are also connected to legal theory. However, as

Sherene Razack (1998) argues there is a pervasive idea that human rights are 'privileged rights' and the 'reality' may be that those located on the so-called periphery of society are not privy to these rights. This is important because if "...the experiential base upon which 127

many feminist insights are grounded is white" (Crenshaw, 1989. p. 67), then rights are seen as inherent to whites and privileges for people of colour. Razack and Crenshaw are examining the context of rights as connected to subjugation. If we examine the idea that rights are secured to the individual and individuals posses their autonomy, then how can

Black feminist thought and feminist criminology unpack the tensions that surmount when negotiating citizenship and belonging for incarcerated Black women, particularly when the methods of overpowering Black women in society are brought about and connected to systemic oppression?

The Relevance of CBFC for Incarcerated Black Women

Analysis depicting the configuration of Black women's bodies as central factors in

Canadian nation building is incomplete. In regard to incarceration and detention, the stories of Black women often rest on the periphery of our environments, if not excluded entirely. As such, there has been little qualitative research conducted on incarcerated

Black women in Canada. As noted earlier, much of the written, visual and/or verbal experiences of incarcerated Black women remain elusive in feminist criminological and theoretical study. However, one Canadian study, published in 1994, by The Commission on Systemic Racism in the Ontario Criminal Justice System, called for the Ontario

Criminal Justice System to be accountable for systemic racism in Ontario prisons. The report called Racism Behind Bars: The Treatment of Black and Other Racial Minority

Prisoners in Ontario Prison, examines the racist treatment of Black prisoners doing time in correctional facilities, and how the lack of response to this treatment by prison officials 128

constitutes what I see as human rights abuses. The Commission found racism to be a

factor in terms of the treatment of Black prisoners by prison officials, the lack of

relevance for rehabilitation programs for prisoners of colour, a disregard to dietary needs

and personal care products, disproportionate transfer of Black remand prisoners,

differential treatment of pregnant prisoners based on race, and general all around

discriminatory treatment of Black prisoners. For example, a woman prisoner at the Metro

West Detention Centre53 gave this example:

A black woman in the prison had asked a CO (Correctional Officer) for paper to

write a letter. The CO ignored her saying that he was busy. About three hours

later, the prisoner again asked for paper. Once more the CO said that he was too

busy. A white prisoner who had seen the whole incident, approached the black

prisoner and volunteered to ask the CO, saying "Don't worry, I'll get the paper."

As soon as the white woman made her request, the CO stopped what he was doing

and went to fetch the paper (1994, p. 78).

Although the findings from the report focus on systemic racism in Ontario prisons, these

findings should be understood within the context of the entire Canadian criminal justice

system (courts, police, and prisons) as well as our wider society. Those who hold powerful positions within judicial offices and its counterparts are more often than not

Women arrested and denied bail in the Greater Toronto Area and Hamilton/Wentworth area are no longer held at the Metro West Detention Centre. They are now sent to the Vanier Correctional Centre for Women in Milton, Ontario. 129

white men and women. Unearned (white) privilege allows systemic racism and the

re/producing of racism to flourish, and therefore a move towards dismantling the system

of power and domination within the Canadian criminal justice system proves challenging

because the gatekeepers of this system are each other's keepers.

Although the report was written in 1994, it is still relevant today. According to

White and Haines, the impact of race and/or ethnicity on incarcerated women is important

to the study of criminology. According to the Commission's report on Systemic Racism

"Black and other racial minority women prisoners face many of the same problems which

have been identified in relation to male prisoners...[h]owever, their unique situation

renders them even more vulnerable" (2004, p. 98). Moreover, Rice (1990 as cited in

Chigwada-Bailey, 1997/2003, p. vii) argues that "because 'Black criminology' has

focused on men while 'feminist criminology' has focused on white women, the unique

social, cultural and economic experience of Black women has been overlooked."

The plurality of Black feminist theorizing is central to understanding the

complexities of women's incarceration. Here, I am interested in what ways Black feminist

discourses can constitute and contribute to multi-vocal approaches of rehabilitation for

incarcerated Black women? Moreover, definitions of rehabilitation are conceivably different for many women in prison. Before exploring this concept one needs to examine the socio-economic, racial, and class dynamics that are often very present for women in prison. According to Margaret Shaw (1994), incarcerated women have been housed in accommodations that reinforce societal sex-gender roles of domesticity, while providing

little infrastructure for programs and training that will benefit women upon release. The 130

point here is not to reinforce the notion that women are in conflict with the law; rather the infra/structure of the judicial system, with its lack of analysis regarding systemic racism and oppression are in conflict with the real lived experiences of women. The Canadian criminal justice system, with its consistent emphasis on enacting a 'law and order' agenda, and the explicit politics of women's confinement directly connects to historical sex-gender stereotypes that attempt to reinforce paternalist ideals in an effort to reform the "bad" woman. Thus, the gendered nature of prisons subsumes the historical ideologies of sexism and patriarchy that are entrenched in the social reformation and regulation processes reinforced by the Canadian state.

Historically and contemporarily, as women's prisons have been built, the ideological and administrative philosophies of punishment procedures for men have been the model for women's institutions. In many aspects this model has failed. Due to the oppressive nature of historical penal practices, incarcerated women have been pigeon­ holed into deplorable spaces that further institutionalize them. Educational, counselling, or social development programs are underfunded; many women prisoners have been raped, assaulted, and are heavily sedated into a state of unconsciousness; women's labour is highly exploited; there is a disproportionate number of prisoners living with Hepatitis C receiving inadequate healthcare; and the prevalence of HIV/AIDS transmission is on the rise. By refusing to adequately provide safe and humane incarceration measures, the

Canadian state contributes to, and reinforces the raced and gendered nature of incarceration. While Kelly Hannah-Moffat (2001) reminds us that in the 1970s feminists began to challenge the sexist assumptions that examined the deplorable living conditions 131

for women in prison, critical to this analysis is the fact that often these same feminists negated the politics of race in favour of gender-only discussions. Men and women prisoners do not have the same needs in prison. The focusing of gender-only discussions runs the risk of negating other important issues. Accordingly, "[a]n emphasis on the commonalities of women results in an insensitivity to the differences among women; as a result, the experiences of women prisoners are trivialized" (Hannah-Moffat, 2001, p.

191). Although Hannah-Moffat puts forth this argument, her work pays little attention to the politics of race as interconstituted through gender behind prison walls. Canadian

Black Feminist Criminology takes up the above tensions and discontents in order to center Black women at the core of these discussions. In prison, Black women and other women of colour do not have the same needs or experiences as their white counterparts.

Therefore, we "center Black women in this analysis in order to contrast the multi- dimensionality of Black women's experience with the single-axis analysis that distorts these experiences" (Crenshaw, 1989, p. 57). Because Black women have been

"theoretically erased" (Ibid) from feminist criminological study, I argue here that the intersectionality of race, and class are interconstituted in the politics of gendered incarceration. Canadian Black Feminist Criminology makes visible the far-reaching socio-economic and political implications of incarceration for Black women.

The voices and experiences of women of colour are valuable to feminist frameworks of punishment theory. In terms of critical legal theory, the intersectionality of

Black and Aboriginal women's differential experiences should not be "slotted" into penology theory as a means addressing "special interest" issues. Working towards anti- 132

racist feminist criminological theory should seek to implore an application of anti-racist theory and practice in relation to the epistemological paradigms and activist ideology that concerns the racialized nature of incarceration.

The law acts discursively, hence the law operates in conjunction with racial, political, social, and gendered systems. In many divergent ways, the voices of women of colour are recast into debates around the legitimization of their claims (Crenshaw, 1989), and the ways in which those claims are understood under the eyes of the law. The knowledge(s) produced about what "law" is, and does is entrenched in historical ideological discourse - law, then, is not neutral. Evidently, the politics of race and racism also works discursively in the area of criminality. Researching the confluence of race and the criminal justice system has long been studied. However, Black feminist discussions of race in the context of the Canadian justice system have hardly been mentioned. This is an area in which much work needs to be done. Subsequent to P4W being closed, Karlene

Faith noted that there were ".. .increasing numbers of women of African heritage, from the U.S and the Caribbean.. .serving time at P4W on importing and trafficking convictions" (1993, p. 184). Although the disproportionate number of Black women in

US prisons has been greatly documented, in Canada and the United States there still needs to be a feminist analysis that focuses on the intersectionality and spatiality of race and gender.

Daly and Stephens state that "legal scholars taking feminist and critical race perspectives argue that relations of inequality are structured and reproduced in law and legal process" (1995, p. 195). Consequently, it has been a trend for feminists to focus on 133

either race or gender, as opposed to race and gender. This sameness-difference dilemma often confronts feminists, and it is a slippery terrain to have to navigate. For the vindication of judicial impartiality, Black women aim for race-conscious particularism to have their differences recognized, however when these differences are an instrument of oppression, the dilemma posed for critical race theory and politics is challenging (Cook,

1992 as cited in Daly and Stephens, 1995, p. 195). Crenshaw (1989) argues when feminist theories evolve form a white racial context, the value of these theories serve unproductive to discussions concerning women of colour. When white women speak for all women, their voices become authoritative, and when a single-standpoint feminist theory attempts to describe women's experience by analyzing patriarchy, sexuality or separate spheres ideology from this context, this overlooks the role of race. Furthermore, Margaret

Andersen (2003) highlights this point by arguing that there is an absence of class dynamics in whiteness studies. She argues that whiteness scholars claim to situate their work in an analysis of privilege, however in writing they hardly ever mention white racism, global capitalism, split labour markets etc. The result is that all of the

"mechanisms of and sites of racial domination and subordination disappear from view"

(Andersen, 2003, p. 28). Frankenberg avoids this trap by looking at whiteness as a set of cultural practices, and examines the intersectionality of whiteness, 'race', class, and gender - the "material and discursive dimensions of whiteness" (2000, p. 448).

Representations of social identities surrounding Black women's incarceration do not exist outside of the normative boundaries of whiteness and white privilege. Therefore, when feminist criminological theories and the trajectory of writing that results from 134

research evolves from white women's authoritative standpoints it does little to evince or be accountable to those who were more than passive observers in socio-political processes and research practices. It is critical then, that other ways of knowing, learning and doing, are recognized as key elements in critical race and legal theory. Working towards Canadian Black feminist criminological perspectives means placing Black women and other racialized women at the center of any and all discussions regarding the discourse of women's incarceration and the resultant circumstances from incarceration.

Earlier, I mentioned that Patricia Monture-Angus (1992) has examined the politics of incarceration and the racialization of Aboriginal women within the Canadian criminal justice system. Her work shows that racism perpetuated against Aboriginal women is historically based and contemporarily relevant. Systemic institutionalized racism is part of our Canadian legal system and Aboriginal women are thus underrepresented in the criminal justice system. In relation to carceral processes, Monture-Angus calls for

"Aboriginal justice systems" (1995, p. 238), comprised of Aboriginal lawyers, judges, and social workers who would legitimize Aboriginal understandings of punishment and healing. In making the connection here with Canadian Black Feminist Criminology, I borrow from Monture-Angus, and argue that the framework for theorizing about the confluence of feminist criminology and Black feminist thought calls not only the centering of Black women in all legal discussions, but also for the telling and re-telling of

Black women's experiences in their own words, for their truths, to be legitimized. 135

CHAPTER 6

INTERVIEWS WITH BLACK WOMEN IN PRISON

Black women scholars and professionals cannot afford to ignore the straits of our sisters who are acquainted with the immediacy of oppression in a way many of us are not. The process of empowerment cannot be simplistically defined in accordance with our own particular class interests. We must learn to lift as we climb.

Angela Davis (1989)

Albert Memmi argues that "just as the bourgeoisie proposes an image of the proletariat, the existence of the colonizer requires that an image of the colonized be suggested" (1982/2000, p. 205). The confluence of knowledge formation and the dissemination of research in situations where researchers conduct interviews with marginalized members of our society further situates the ways in which this research project is part of a larger pedagogical project. The interviews conducted with federally sentenced Black women elucidate that not only is centering their voice imperative to

Canadian Black feminist criminological frameworks, but how this knowledge is analyzed and disseminated is critical. I have argued that due to mainstream attendant hegemonic notions of incarceration and societal punishment ideals, a particular "cultural literacy" is interconnected with ideas of citizenship, and writing race. Locating the stories of incarcerated Black women and incorporating them within analysis of one's work calls into question how one writes or does not write about race, gender and class. For example since historical theorizing in feminist criminology about women ignored intersectional 136

variables such as race, gender and class as central features of any analysis concerning state sanctioned punishment regimes, the study of gendered incarceration by feminist theorists has failed to account for the creation and maintenance of an academic field of inquiry that has been racist and exclusionary (see Daly and Maher, 1998; Daly and

Stephens, 1995; Razack, 1998; Harris, 2003). The legitimating of ruling ideas are re/productions of dominant white feminist ethos whether situated inside or outside of academic canons. As such, this chapter examines how the exclusion of Black women's narratives is part of the debate around racialized and gendered incarceration and these debates do not exist outside of one's social location. In order to explore this claim, this chapter provides an analysis of two key themes that emerged from my fieldwork. Further, these themes are also connected to theoretical understandings of Canadian Black Feminist

Criminology as scholar-activist praxis.

Theorizing Anti-racist Feminism and Incarceration

The dispersement of Black women transnationally located in the gendered and raced diaspora offers as Andrea Davis reminds us "new ways of thinking about and articulating difference within and across nation-states" (2004, p. 64). For example, we see evidence of this in the ways that Black women fared no better when it came to immigration laws (1950-60s) that allowed for their entry into Canada as temporary domestic workers (Silvera, 1983) but simultaneously denied them acquisition of citizenship. Since racism is structural and inextricably connected to power, gaining access to belong in Canada marries with indoctrinated discourses of 'goodness', 'civility', 137

'morality' and 'law abiding' - discourses of 'difference' makes challenging or in some

cases disallows for the movement of people across borders and for inclusion in the project

of nation-building. One way in which to postulate this argument is to turn our attention to

an examination of how anti-racist feminism informs how discourses of institutionalized

racism are evident in incarceration processes that affect Black women.

The emergence of third wave feminism and anti-racist feminism (1990s-present)

recognizes the intersectionality of race, class, gender, dis/ability and sexuality. In Canada,

anti-racist scholars took note of the lack of inclusivity in feminist theory and pedagogical

practice (see Dua, 1999). The respective environments that women of colour negotiated

every day as racialized women were not evident within the canons of feminist discipline.

Either the experiences of women of colour were completely negated, or perfunctory

tributes in the form of "special topics of interest" compartmentalized and marginalized

narratives. In order to evaluate the social construction of exclusion facing many women

of colour who were academics and activists, it was critical for Canadian anti-racist

feminists to examine "the ways in which Canadian academia constructed knowledge

about race" (Dua, 1999, p. 17). Feminists would play an important part in unpacking how

political, social, economic and cultural discourses of the Canadian state figured in the

writings and teachings of feminism. In order to make differences and similarities visual

and heard, an analysis of race was necessary.

Anti-racist feminists focus on deconstructing race and gender in an effort to focus

on historic patterns of racialization in Canada (Dua, 1999). By examining immigration policies, environmental racism, and violence against women, anti-racist feminists explore 138

how racism is manifested in state institutions and organizations. But how can anti-racist

feminizing inform theories about Black women in prison? One way to do this is to use a

political economy approach and examine how the discourse of race operates within a

capitalist framework (Das Gupta, 2009). Another way is to look at the experiences of

Black women's lives as standpoint methodology. The next section presents a synthesis of both these approaches as evident through two key themes.

The material conditions of Black women's lives are grounded in the realities of

gender and racial oppression. Additionally the complexity of these variables magnifies

when one is also facing oppression due to their sexual orientation. Out of all the women I

interviewed, only one self-identified as a lesbian. We talked about how homophobia can

affect one's life outside of prison walls and she told me about a situation in which she felt

her sexuality was a factor in the acquisition of employment:

Interviewer: Do you feel that racism and/or your gender (ifyou woman-identify),

and economic status has contributed in any way to your incarceration?

Tika Marie: Being a woman or being a lesbian? Yes most definitely. Well I went

for a job interview and at this point right I had my hair...I was totally dyked out

and you know in talking to him over the phone he sounded really interested and

very open and when I got there and when met me he was like [looking at me

funny] so he went through the interview; needless to say I didn't get the job. I

know for a fact - this was Globe and Mail Telecom, on Yonge and Bloor and...I 139

had a daytime job {inaudible}. I'm letting my hair grow out now...that way I can

stay true...I need to pay the bills; I need to pay the rent. I'm raised in a family

that's totally open to me being a lesbian.54

We talked about her release from prison and what her central concerns were, primarily around housing and employment. What is often left out of discussions about punishment procedures for women is the way in which heterosexual oppression operates within systems of incarceration. The workings of gender, race and sexuality become visible in the criminalization of women (Sudbury, 2005) due to homophobia behind prison walls.

Although not discussed in greater detail in this work, it is important to note that prisons are heteronormative spaces, and anything to the contrary is labelled deviant. As such, it is critical that we "queer" any discussion involving Black women in prison, so that as Beth

Richie reminds us, we can "point to the ways in which the current formulations of the social costs of imprisonment...tend to minimize questions of gender and ignore sexuality altogether [rendering] queer prisoners, crimes related to nonnormative sexuality, and violence against incarcerated women invisible..." (2005, p. 73-74).

Similar to Kiki and Shelly, Tika Marie felt that pre-release integration programs were lacking in terms of preparing women for job market navigation, particularly if one has a criminal record:

Tika Marie had no issues coming out to her family or community, and indicated that they are very supportive of her. 140

Tika Marie: Well you can get your OSSD [in here]. Job training - nope -1 feel -

however that's at this present moment. I [partook] in, building the Max Unit

(Maximum Security Unit), I went to an interview, I was accepted had to do

resume - the whole nine yards, gave it to the owner, went out every day on a work

release, was paid ten bucks an hour. So now that money went into my savings, so

that was a good start for me when I get out. So also I helped build that CORCAN

building - that I started from the ground up ...we were paid a buck and a half... I

don't care, 'cuz I work for the letter and the experience, so now I have lots of

experience: dry wall, painting...I get a letter from him and that's all I really

wanted. I also volunteered for Habitat for Humanity on work release.. .It's been a

passion of mine, however that didn't go so well. When we got there, we were told

the only people who would know we were from the prison - it was me and another

girl - was my supervisors, I had two. Well, as soon as we got there, all the co­

workers start asking me this, asking me that... I didn't think they were forthcoming

with me and I didn't like that so {Tika Marie indicated that her friend said that she

killed someone -she didn 't, but her friend said that to sarcastically feed into the

stereotype that many have about prisoners). Not to mention when I applied for it,

I thought I'd be hands on, not stocking [boxes] like I'm not learning, I mean you

can learn something everywhere but that's not my thing...

The Canadian state has been complicit in the production and maintenance of racism. We have been taught about who belongs in Canada and this is a process of 141

negotiation between dominant elites, those who hold socio-economic power and persons who reside on the margins of society. The promise of meritocracy and equality occupies much rhetoric within the canons of public consciousness. Many in Canada espouse liberal values, believing in the promise of justice and egalitarian values. Yet the ideology of democracy operating in an impartial space conflicts with attitudes and behaviours that demonstrate negativity towards people of colour and results in the discrimination and differential treatment against them (Henry and Tator, 2006). As a result, in Canada what we have is a society grounded in liberal values of democracy, while simultaneously enacting institutional and systemic racism against persons of colour. The politics of incarceration purports that democratic, just and fair jurisprudence has been met impartially in a court of law. How then does one contextualize democratic racism in the context of legal jurisprudence? If there is such pervasive denial of racism in Canadian society and the criminal courts are a part of our governance, then how do we navigate this thorny raced and gendered space - namely the criminal justice system and all its various branches? For Minister Sister Dinah, the promise of Canada has long since faded:

Minister Sister Dinah: .. .as I said living here almost 34 years, at first I really

thought Canada was going to help us when Pierre Trudeau was Prime Minister he

said a lot of things in which his values made a connection - it resounded to us

what he was saying. So the whole idea of what multiculturalism is and diversity, I

think he is the only Prime Minister that truly understood that because he reached

out to us and then he brought us here and incorporated us in a system in which 142

many years ago it was him who even allowed people to become citizens. So in

becoming a citizen [people] have actually let go of their homeland hoping that this

will be theirs. It's very sad because most of our elders who came here and helped

to build a Canadian society they too feel so left out, everybody wants to return

home (West Indies) now that they're old. But what the problem is for the young

people like myself who came here, what would do if our parents were gonna up

and go back to the West Indies? Then we'd be left alone with our children and our

children is looking to have children. So this would be two, three generation of us

here. So it's not working and systemically what they have done to us is a disgrace

because we're not all suffering people who came from Grenada - you know what I

mean? And that respect to bring us here and we've helped to contribute so much to

the Canadian society and they love to talk and display multiculturalism worldwide

- it's a disgrace if anyone looks into to see what's really happening especially with

so many Black people being in the system. So it's from poverty to prison back to

poverty or death. It is not very funny what's going on, and to see the report that

you're doing, and the fact that you've come in here and talk to us, I know there's a

little hope but as I said may God help us because the system can do a lot more and

pretending that all Black people is stupid, it doesn't work anymore.

As noted by Minister Sister Dinah, it can be argued that generally, Canada is

(re)presented as a multicultural mosaic and a country void of overt incidences of racism.

This cloak of "multiculturalism" is a fallacy. More accurate is the argument that the 143

insidious nature of systemic racism is embedded in many criminal justice, immigration, refugee, employment, and economic policies. These policies are entrenched in a colonial history that delineates "Canadians" (read: white people of European descent) from

"immigrants" (read: people of colour).55 In regard to penal punishment, troubling race relations between the Canadian state and people of colour are illuminated via the politics of incarceration for women. Discussed in chapter three, the historical confinement of racialized bodies of colour deemed criminal and unfit to aid in the project of empire building, represents a contemporary discursive continuum of racism perpetuated through power and coercion tactics. Strategically, this renders women of colour in Canada, invisible. Women without legal status, with no political power are ideologically literally displaced within the Canadian landscape. Particularly for Black women who are doing time, the promise of democracy fades when the illusion of no racism in Canadian society persists. Black women in prison face numerous challenges in addition to having a criminal record. In many cases their criminal record is a direct result of economic exclusion. For example, Black women who have relocated to Canada as domestic workers

(see Silvera, 1983) have felt the brunt of sexual harassment, racism and sexism (see Das

Gupta, 2009) in their attempt to secure some form of economic sustainability. In many cases, remediating monies 'back home' is another necessary part of family viability. For women without citizenship security, this is compromised. Exacerbating this problem is a

Clearly, immigrants are not always people of colour, and people of colour should not always be stereotypically referred to as immigrants. My point here is to emphasize the discursive ideological framework in which "Canadian" is understood and idealized. Like many other social and ideological constructs, the definition of who and what a "Canadian" is has been created and normalized. More often than not, this construction does not include people of colour. 144

racist immigration system that curtails the movement of racialized women entering this country.

With these barriers in mind, some Black women seek other ways in which to negotiate the landscape of racism behind prison walls. For example, when experiencing racism, Dominique's response is to disengage in the discourse of oppression. Instead she utilizes a mode of resistance in order to empower herself:

Dominique: Especially in Canada racism is as real as it is. One don't have to give

it back when one get it, one could walk away and just look at the source where it

is coming from. It takes a very ignorant person to be racist to me because of one

skin colour and I think some element of fear and ignorance, when someone come

over to me and call me a nigger or something derogatory I just don't bother with

them... that's all that could call out of your mouth...you have anything else to say,

a monkey, a donkey, keep goin...it doesn't make sense why you calling me

names...call a nigger ain't gonna call me...it's just a word and coming from you it

doesn't mean anything you just ignorant.

For Black women in prison that I interviewed these tensions become visible through different interactions that they have with each other and prison personnel. In regard to racism among other prisoners, Condo, aged 37 explained that: 145

Condo: You here it all the time I hear the white people making all kinda

[remarks]...I hear it all the time and I hear it from the Aboriginal people I hear it

from both ends because the problem is they forget I'm Black when I'm out here

with them...they forget they totally forget, so I'll sit here and listen to you people

and see how you'll carry on, that's how it always is... because 'm so light skinned

they forget all the time

Condo who is mixed race (Black and Aboriginal) talked to me about how her skin colour allowed her to pass in different situations as noted above. For her, situations of racism have played out both inside and outside the prison, and have shaped how she goes about her business in the prison. She is keenly aware of the dynamics of race as played out among the prisoners as well as by the institution. As a mixed race woman navigating racialized boundaries daily, her narrative highlights the importance of heterogeneous feminist theoretical approaches for research by, with and about racialized women in prison.

When I asked Lauren and Kiki whether or not they feel as though Grand Valley

Institution is racially segregated among the prisoners, they responded in the following ways:

Lauren: They [the women] mix when they want to mix, but a lot of the Black

women hang together, and most of the Native hang together. Me personally I deal

with people; if I don't deal with you it isn't because of race or creed, its 146

personality or character. There is people who have the racial motivation but it's subtle and quiet. I've grown up dealing with white people and its mostly white people, I'll be straight up because the Natives I've ever dealt with - they've always been straight [up] because the ones I dealt with, I never experienced a

Native that was two-faced. I've had better experiences with the Natives on the outside than in here, than with the whites I've dealt with white people who pretend to like you but deep down they don't, but with Americans -1 experienced that when I went to the States - if they don't like you they will tell you - it was harsh but at least I done know it, but in here, it's that subtle 'hee hee hee', and smile in your face but you don't like me and not because of my personality you just don't like me because I'm of a different race - I'm Black.

Kiki: Well I've been here for about three months...I'm the type of person that I don't talk to the guards, I don't socialize. I talk to my Parole Officer and that's it.

(Referring to the guards) we don't have any conversations, we don't have any sort of ties; It's very neutral. A lot of the Black women here, I would say 80 percent of us are in here on importing beefs...the Black [women] we're totally together.

(Referring to racism among the prisoners) even in my house...a lot of the things I experience - they've (non-whites) never had any Black people living there before and the things that they go on and say sometimes it's like "nigger, nigger, nigger" and I'm sitting there and you know things like that, it's hard and I don't take 147

offence to them because you know...I don't speak like that because it's just not in

my nature to be like that...

Relations with non-white prisoners in the houses56 where Black women live can

be contentious. Because racist language and the meaning associated with that language is

connected to ideas of inferiority, the commonality of incarceration among women, is

raced and this has implications for the ways in which Black women navigate their time behind bars. When Black women are called pejorative names it sends a message to them

that even though "we (prisoners) share the commonality of incarceration, we (whites and non-blacks) are still superior to you (blacks)." The use of racist language among prisoners

is evidence of systemic racism, not only by authorities, but also from women doing time.

When talking about the segregated living conditions among women prisoners,

Dominique explained that the houses that the women live are raced:

Dominique: .. .to some extent it is...I live in a house with 10 people and there are

about 5 Black women, 3 white women and 2 oriental (sic) women, but before

there was like 7 Black women and they all it the b house and they say that we are

bad bitches. You know what... it was the guards to.. .we take care of our business

we don't mess with each other, we don't mess with nobody, we do our time and

they always talking about "you going to the Black house" if a white girl want to

56 Instead of cellblocks or 'ranges' in women at Grand Valley are held in houses that on the outside look like mini cottages, but inside each women's cell is a room. This was one of the recommendations to come out of the Creating Choices (1990) report that argued that cellblocks in women's prisons are not conducive to rehabilitation for women doing time due to a number of social psychological factors. 148

move to the Black house " you going to that Black house," "what it's like in there"

- like it's just a house...and even the guards have it in... "the Black house" because

we get along pretty good together and when you move into some of these other

houses you get a lot of racist bullshit from some of these white girls here, so

sometimes it's just to be with your own kind its easier, you get people calling us

niggers, you can hear - there's one white girl who told my friend one day she

came in the house and this Black girl move in the house she was in and she said

"all niggers going to hell" she [the white women said it] was out on the compound

and she came back and saw the Black girl in the house and she was freak'n; Like

the white people don't necessarily want to live with us we Black people, they

rather live among their own kind, but like me I don't have problem with anybody

but they on this trip where they only want their own kind in the house so they put

a lot of Black women in one house....

The experiences of racism that Black women encounter from other prisoners is also

reflective of the treatment that they receive from correctional guards. As outlined by the

Commission on Systemic Racism in the Ontario Criminal Justice System, prison guards used racial stereotyping to make judgements about Black prisoners:

White Correctional Officer: There was a black officer at X institution who was

appointed a training officer for the facility. The day after his appointment was 149

announced, a picture of him made up to look like a monkey holding a banana, was

put up. No one said or did anything (1994, p. 19).

In addition to this, the Commission also reported that Correctional Officers were surprised when Black prisoners were articulate and knowledgeable. In terms of racial stereotyping directed at Black women, the Commission found that Black women prisoners were sexually harassed and assaulted. When Black women complained about this treatment, they were dismissed as troublemakers (1994, p. 21). Following this, I was interested if Black women prisoners at GVI had experiences of racism directed towards them from prison personnel. Chantal, a 22 year-old serving time for robbery, theft and assault noted that:

Chantal: .. .some guards they probably have their favourites or whatever but it's

not a Black person...a white person can do whatever but if a Black person does it

it's like a big issue...they just have their favourites... 'cuz if I were to go it's like

you can't do this or that...different treatment...not all of them are like that but

some of them.

Similarly when talking about relations with prison guards, Lauren and Condo stated that:

Lauren: Instead of looking into it [situations] you find that they (guards) act on

it...for example if there is a complaint on a particular person.. .instead of 150

investigating it first, and then acting on it, they act first and investigate it later.

I've seen that here. Seeing that, how do you expect to feel as a Black person?

Even if it is not happening to me, you see it happen to another Black sister and

you sit and wonder...or you will hear racial comments [made by other prisoners]

and nothing being done.

Condo: [They] need a parole officer stationed in the facility all day to address

Black issues that are different than white issues - and I don't care, they have

stopped slavery, but they'll never stop racism - isn't that how it is?

Condo's closing statement here is telling. In our examination of the experiences of incarcerated Black women, I have argued that the reproduction of racism is critical to our understanding of subjugation and oppression. The above dialogues provide a glimpse into some of the ways in which systemic and institutional racism is perpetuated and maintained not only by elites within the institution, but also among prisoners. This is important to note in order for us to contextualize the ways in which Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology intersects with wider societal discourses of domination.

Anti-racist feminist theorizing as connected to Canadian Black feminist criminology opens up a space for activists, educators, political power brokers to envision challenges to institutionalized racism. Furthermore, anti-racist feminist approaches to theorizing incarceration for Black women in prison call for an analysis that investigates how the reproduction of racism cements interlocking oppressions in relation to 151

citizenship. In Canada, anti-racism imperatives have been catapulted to the forefront of many discussions concerning the position of race and gender in criminal justice procedures. Race relations discourse has traditionally revolved around ethnicity dynamics.57

The Significance of CBFC for Rehabilitation and Reintegration Processes

Canadian Black Feminist Criminology theorizes that rehabilitation and reintegration are complex, dynamic, and fluid. Moreover, this theory argues that rehabilitation and reintegration are not mutually exclusive areas, and that the confluence of the two should be understood in terms of race, class and gender perspectives.

Therefore, how one understands the purpose and process of rehabilitation is connected to the methodology around the concept of social change as relevant to the lives of incarcerated Black women. Canadian Black Feminist Criminology argues that rehabilitation and reintegration models often dictate that one must work from "bad" to

"good" and to some degree the choices that people make in their lives are outside of social contexts. However, Canadian Black Feminist Criminology postulates that many of the choices that women make prior to coming in contact with the law need to be understood in conjunction with social, political and economic variables. In addition, in

57As outlined by Henry and Tator (2006), discourses on ethnicity have been central to debates around social class. Scholars have argued that the focus on ethnicity may actually negate processes of racialization and the prevalence of racism that people of colour face on a daily basis. Overemphasis on ethnic relations obscures systemic racism and the social structural factors that marginalize people of colour, because discussions about the workings of white privilege, whiteness, and institutionalized racism are negated. See F. Henry and C. Tator, The colour of democracy: Racism in Canadian society (Scarborough, ON: Thomson Nelson, 2006). 152

order for rehabilitation and reintegration programs to be relevant to incarcerated Black women, they must be connected to social justice frameworks. In order to accomplish this, rehabilitation and reintegration programs must operate within an anti-racist and anti- oppressive framework; they must consult with Black women regarding their needs; they must work with and build coalitions with community groups interested in working with and maintaining connections with incarcerated Black women; they must take into account diversity among Black women; and they must examine systemic and institutional oppression within the context of white supremacist ideology. Once women become decision makers in the process of rehabilitation and reintegration, they will be invested in the process of and journey towards making different choices in their lives. According to

Tika Marie all of the above mentioned factors are important to rehabilitation and reintegration processes, and for her community support is a critical factor for societal reintegration:

Tika Marie: My biggest concern is housing because my family is supportive in

one sense... [but living with them], it's not conducive to me in a sense. I am 39

years old and I've ways been very independent and my family they think 'you

want to stop [using drugs], so just stop.' They don't understand and because I

haven't discussed anything where I've learn't or where I've grown...it's not for me

to be home and if I were to go home to my mother till I get my place, she's in

Scarborough - it's not good for me so I'm taking a chance and I'm going to stay 153

CO here in Kitchener to transition through STRIDE. I'm doing some work, now

hopefully I get into it, if not my other option is...there's a place in

Toronto...Nazareth House it's called. And [secondly] a job, when I left here the

last time, my boss he was awesome...I was making fifty bucks an hour [doing

renovation]...he knew the fact I was on parole, he was able to accommodate me

when I needed to report...and that was huge...because anytime I didn't feel like

they could come and say 'You're fired' because they could come and say 'you

know you didn't tell us you had a criminal record' or that 'you're on parole' or

whatever because I won't, I just really honestly won't because I know [if] the guy

beside me whose applying for the job doesn't [have a criminal record] he's getting

it. I mean that's just realistic...however that job's not an option for me now. Work

and a roof over my head are my two biggest concerns.

Similarly, Condo, a 37 year old woman sentenced to two years, two months for drug trafficking sees community connection prior to release from prison as critical to reintegration and one could argue lessen the chances of recidivism:

58 STRIDE refers to Community Justice Initiative Program Circles. Volunteers provide support to women who they are matched up with prior to release from prison. The goal is to assist women in their reintegration to the community. Women work with her Circle to find employment, housing, and education. For further reading see: www.icclr.law.ubc.ca/Publications/2008/.../13%20Rosemary%20T.%20OBrien%20Women%20Offender.p df 154

Condo: It's very important...you have to establish yourself in the community

before you get out there because if you just walk out there thinking that you're just

gonna be able to work on it from there you're lost your lost from the get go.

Furthermore, Condo stresses that part of this reintegration is directly connected to the lack of availability of racial/culturally relevant programming for Black women:

Condo: They definitely need something for Black women in here, they need a

parole officer for Black females only like they have for the Aboriginals do, they

need a liaison do like to Aboriginal women do...

All of the women I interviewed stressed the need for culturally appropriate programming and services for Black women in prison:

Interviewer: Were the programs culturally relevant to you?

Minister Sister Dinah: No because being Jamaican our faith in God is something

that is inborn from when we were young we were taught certain things. The

church program I enjoyed because I am familiar, I am very familiar with the Bible

-1 enjoyed that, but outside of that it is just too different, and I am not going to

lose my culture or religion to fit into mainstream. 155

Condo and Minister Sister Dinah clearly see the need for programming perspectives that address diversity among Black women. Her narrative indicates that the problem lies with lack of representation and essentialism of Black women as one homogenous group.

Interestingly, although all of the women I interviewed agreed that there was a strong need for racially and/or culturally appropriate programming, there were women who felt that they gained some personal insight into their lives from some of the programs that are offered:

Lauren: When I came here I enrolled in parenting programs and chaplaincy

program and I did it because I felt I needed more growth - there was grief and loss

program here, personality tree, houses of healing - which is an excellent program

(you basically, you deal with your own personal issues - internal issues, it helps

you deal with...how you socialize. It's a very good program, an excellent program

and allows you to reflect on yourself)...A lot of these programs - the Chaplaincy

Program - assist you in dealing with yourself, if you go into the program...and I

want to better myself as an individual and get what I can out of it you'll get a lot

out of it... [other programs such as] Angers and Emotions, DBT (Dialectical

Behaviour therapy)... I felt I was ready for the growth and I needed it.

Chantal: They have a lot of Chaplaincy Programs, Boundaries Program,

Alternatives to Violence, they have a school, an educational program where you

can obtain your grade 12 diploma, they have anger and emotions, they have a lot 156

of programs, I can't name all of them right now but, the ones that I named I did

take all of them I guess to help me be better rehabilitated when I get out of here...

Tiffany: I did educational programs. [They were beneficial] because I'm still

kinda doing it because I left last minute and because I was almost finished and I

only needed a credit and half to get a high school diploma... [they let them take

your homework with you if you are being released]. You're almost finished and

that's all you really need. When you're done just Purolate them back to GVI. I

went to BIFA once or twice and that was about it.

Although these findings represent positive experiences with particular programs offered at GVI, other Black women I interviewed stressed the need for more representation of Blacks in authoritative positions (correctional officers, administrators, and teachers) within the prison. For some women, a visual representation of Blacks in power positions might help 'level the playing field' when it came to representation among prison officials. In this case, Black women may feel as though they have some sort of camaraderie with guards, they way that white women do, in order to get more access to services or better treatment. However, more representation of Blacks does not mean better treatment for Black women in prison. Because "hegemony operates by simultaneously structuring and signifying" (Omi & Winant, 1994, p. 68), Black correctional officers, administrators, and teachers in so-called power positions are working within the confines of white supremacist ideologies. This means that, they too, may be subject to racism and 157

sexism, within the prison, with little recourse or support for challenging the system .

In another vein, it was indicated that more representation from Blacks connected to community groups would be empowering for Black women in prison. Regarding the

Black Inmates and Friends Assembly (BIFA), a long-time community organization whose mandate is to provide support, pre-release planning and help maintain family connections,

Kiki stated:

Kiki: Well we have BIFA, but that person is very unreliable. What I would like to

see is people coming in here and really just helping us know what we're leaving to

and knowing that we have some sort of chance to really...something uplifting and

positive that we can look forward to upon on our release because we won't be

coming back and majority of us are looking for long-term positions -just basic job

opportunities.

Conversely, Tika Marie discussed how tensions among Black women in prison, specifically around representation can be divisive:

Tika Marie: I have to be totally honest, there is help out there, you just have to

get to it.

59 In January 2008, the Toronto Star reported that about 15 guards walked off the job at Toronto's Don Jail after receiving racist threats and death threats. Hayton Morrison, the Guards' Union Steward received a threat that stated "Segregation now! Segregation forever!", and "We want all niggers out of this jail... Go and get your own nigger jail" {Toronto Star, 2008). Interestingly, Morrison indicates that these threats were found in areas off limits to prisoners. 158

Interviewer: How do you get to it [if there are barriers?]

Tika Marie: See I went to welfare to get a start-up...I'm an open person...I don't have a problem with asking for what I need...and I don't agree with welfare either;

I think yes if you really, really need it, but if you're healthy I feel that you should better yourself and get a job. So welfare was able to [help me], I was able to go to resume workshop; I realized that more jobs are online than there are in the newspaper. They will help you if you reach out, there is help out there. However, yes I'm Black...but I find that a lot of Caribbean women, they cry racist, however they will not take from white people...I don't want to get into that topic with you, however, I strongly feel that we have to stop... ok yes we can't change the world in a day, but we have to accept help. Like BIFA for one all they do is nitpick about craziness...if they (CSC) see unity within a group, we'll get further. You think these CSC people care? - They don't. They like to see that there's no unity, they like to see that the organization is falling [apart]...It [BIFA] stands for Black

Inmates Assembly and Friends (interviewee emphasis). Well if you're crying colour then why can't my white friend, my Chinese friend or my Indian friend

D'oin]?

Interviewer:...!saw white women in there... 159

Tika Marie:...and the only reason them women are in there is because of the dues

and they can order the food - them white women do not have a voice; trust me

when I tell you, they do not have a voice.

Tika Marie told a story about her friend who was half white and her male partner was

Black Jamaican. BIFA needed a Chair and Tika Marie suggested that her friend be

appointed:

Tika Marie: They flipped 'cuz she's not Jamaican - what is most important in this

group?...if it's a Jamaican thing then you should say that...I find they just fight

among each other for what reason - you see it Black on Black crime - do you think

these white people care? We're doing them a favour...when is it going to stop?...

For Kiki, the promise of a better tomorrow proves more challenging without community

support. However, Tika Marie's frustration with camaraderie, or any concerted attempt at

it, demonstrates how relations among Black women are heterogeneous. In order to

address situations of alienation and discord that some Black women experience, Canadian

Black feminist criminology theorizes the relevance and inclusion of multi-vocal

experiences particularly around exclusion. Theoretically, Tika Marie is talking about how the ways in which historical ideologies of what constitutes 'blackness' gets played out in the prison, and how access to group membership is indeed raced.

A Canadian Black feminist criminological perspective calls for an integrated

approach to rehabilitation and reintegration that congeals with a coordinated community 160

response to the diverse needs of Black women upon release. In an effort to work towards solutions, many of the women talked about what recommendations and suggestions could be beneficial to them especially for community agencies that want to work with Black women in prison. The efficacy of such a process could begin with community agencies including but not limited to shelters, employment agencies, food banks, and healthcare facilities working with women on pre-release planning that is applicable to their needs. In terms of advocacy and in the interest of decolonizing methodologies and dismantling indices and hierarchies of power, it is integral for researchers and activists to ask rather than assume what women want. As such, I asked Dominique and Lauren what they felt was needed for themselves and other Black women serving time at Grand Valley

Institution for Women:

Dominique: We need a more better network for women who are going out on

passes. Black women have nothing. And there's also a need for programming of

women of our culture when you go out there. Let's be realistic there's a whole gap

there women when they go out there. They need to reintegrate in terms of work.

Program wise - how to set themselves out with a small business do something

proper with our life, government courses, course where you can get a bursary

from something they can give them that confidence, but there none of that so

when they go out there they are on their own, they don't really come back here

because you get smarter and now you have two things against you - your Black 161

you're a criminal and you're poor. So you have all them strokes against you and trying to get job [will be difficult]. There's a great need for that.

Lauren: To have somebody of culture who can relate, empathize with us, sympathize with us, but yet know that boundary to say T understand how you feel but how would you go about it', we'd be more comfortable to address certain issues... You have to deal with the core, you can't just deal with surfacing and say ok we are going to deal with all these issues and then put you out there. We all have different types of skills that we are good at, I mean some don't even realize what they're good at. We all have the esteem aspect to deal with. You'd need the funds to do it, the time and the dedication. Remember we all Black women, we all have different levels of patience and tolerance and things like that. And yeah, the reintegration has to be realistic. Yeah we are in here but when we go out there we are still Black, we're women. If you're single mothers or if you are not academically at that level to express how you feel you may think it and not know how to articulate it, there's that - that would be a good thing in here before we leave. And know where to go when we go out there; 'there is this to go to' in case we need assistance and to know that it is there, not just because it is there and 'we have this program for Black people'. And you go out there and you feel like you are just being run around because you (the community agency) just want the funding you have to be dedicated. Being in Hamilton, I knew nothing about no

Black organization. I knew nothing about BIFA before I came in here... in 162

Hamilton being afraid to ask anyone for help and knowing that everything that I

was afraid of was all true - you don't trust the police you don't trust CAS, you

don't trust welfare... if I look decent and I come and see you it doesn't mean that

I'm hustling or living big, I'm coming to see you because I need money

Both Dominique and Lauren provide telling examples of some of the salient issues that

Black women in prison face, upon release. We can see here that release and program planning requires a multi-thronged approach whereby there are many players necessary to

aid in the process of reintegration for Black women. Moreover, when I talked to women

about the efficacy of programs offered at Grand Valley Institution for Women,

specifically in relation to pre-release, it was disheartening to hear that many women felt that the programs were inadequate. Minister Sister Dinah elaborated on this point, in reference to her experience with grief and loss:

Minister Sister Dinah: The only thing that really helped me while I was here was

a program called Grief and Loss. I got insight into how grief and how grief leads

to depression, it leads to anger and then to rage. And so the whole program helped

me to understand what my crime was all about. And in that respect, it was for a

good. Most of the other programs are centred on drugs and alcohol. Most of the

Black women here don't have drugs and alcohol problem. So I wouldn't say I was

bored, but it really got to me to have to sit and listen to other people's testimony

about things where I don't relate to that 'cuz as Rastafarian I am one person that 163

smokes weed. Not all Rastafarians smokes weed, let the truth be known, but I

smoke weed on the outside, and in coming here hearing about the hard drugs -

cocaine and everything else I can't relate to those things because I've never lived

that life. On the outside I was mostly with Rastafarian people so I wasn't even part

of the scene that's taking our people downhill. So for me, right now that I have

completed all of my correctional plan, I find there's nothing. I'm literally sitting

here and not having the opportunity to go back out because of how they've made

the system, where I am concerned, may God help us because culturally there is

nothing, their programs are not geared towards us and at the same time I think

they're forcing upon us that 'we need to change' and I don't see the need being that

I didn't have drug problem, prostitute problem or alcohol, I don't see the need to

change who I am.

Moreover, I asked Minister Sister Dinah whether or not the programs addressed racism:

Minister Sister Dinah: I think they skirt around racism, more than anything else.

Everyday we're being made to feel like everything is ok - no it's not, it is not. It's

sad, but it is not.. .What's going on is within the whole system of Canada,

everywhere we go the racist element is there and if people is not consciously...I

guess acceptable or kind hearted they won't understand the damage they're causing

because on the outside we have the school, the police, the workforce, all these

different avenues in which we do experience racism, but being in prison it's only 164

staff and inmate and to find the racism coming from them that's where I sit down

and I know it is really so sad 'cuz if this is what we experience everywhere we go.

Well as criminal how you gonna say one race is better than the other and you're here to guard criminals? So for myself as I said I'm just at a point in life, I'm

comfortable with who I am. There's not much help for us out there, so I don't

reach out for help. I thank God that He's a prayer hearing God that I can go to

daily and that's where my hope is. If I can help someone whether Black or white, I try to do my best 'cuz even with all that I've been through and trying to stay away

from people, I do have a lot of white people that they tend to cling to me because they know - they love having that love and nurturing that I am all about, you know

what I mean, but it's very sad -1 sit down and I see how the staff treats us. It is so

sad, I'm not going to cry about it, I'll just pray for them, 'cuz as I said we all need prayer, you know what I mean. But those in authorities they really need to do a better job or the whole system, this whole country is going to fall apart. It is

falling apart; it doesn't even matter if you are using Black and white. I think you

should be using people to the best of their potential and ability. And shoving us down in a hole, you can shove me as far as you want and you know what I know

I'll survive. And that's what I see. It's very sad people, 'cuz I actually see what you're doing and it doesn't help, so with no program, with no help from staff for people like us with violent crimes if we're gonna go before the Parole Board, the

Parole Officers don't help us, you know what I mean and I've seen people commit murder and get parole. So this is not impossible so it's definitely wrong what's 165

going, you know what I mean. It is wrong in every sense of the way and every

step of the way, it's just blockage for us. I'm praying because the Lord said

'whenever a revolution arises in a country, it is God who stirs the hearts of the

people', so had not the Civil Rights leaders stand up slavery wouldn't have

changed, then once slavery was ended, then equality and equal opportunity and all

these things took over, the feminist movement. Well you know what? What's

going on now with Black people being on the verge of- we're looking into not

only into ourselves, but the system - we're a people and you are our government.

What are you going to do for us? And if you will not help us I know it's going to

backfire big time because this is not four hundred years ago and I'm pretty sure no

one wants to go back there...

Talking with Minister Sister Dinah made me realize that the ease with which I enter and leave prison walls is taken for granted. There is some discomfort here. As I listened to her talk about grief and loss, I realized that her grief and loss are not related to her situation - her conviction, distance from family - but also her grief and loss of the promise of a better life for her children in Canada. The Canadian criminal justice system is at a loss for how to be accountable to Black women and other women of colour who have felt abandoned and targeted by a system enmeshed in systemic racism and sexism. When

Minister Sister Dinah states that "it's just blockage for us", I interpret that to mean that social, political, and economic progress for Black women whether incarcerated or not is connected to many of the historical struggles that Blacks have been through. As 166

mentioned by Minister Sister Dinah slavery, equality, Civil Rights, and feminism intersect with the contemporary material reality of Black women's lives. Systemic and institutional racism makes real the importance of historicizing these intersections so that we can make visible the reasons as to why rehabilitation and reintegration process and progress for incarcerated Black women are challenging and sometimes disempowering.

Black women in prison are the experts on their lives, and their truth is told from different vantage points under the commonality of incarcerative space. As such, my task in conducting these interviews was to illustrate how "their testimonies provide a verbal mapping of the spaces of incarceration and illustrate some of the ways in which the very heterogeneity of these spaces affects what is remembered and named" (Oikawa, 2005, p.

75). For incarcerated Black women, the re-telling of their experiences of incarceration can be empowering and in many ways this provides a roadmap for understanding how recovering ones voice within the confines of carceral spaces is highly contested.

Moreover, Wahab argues that "anti-racist research and discourse have not yet become sites for interrogating the racialized differences within the margins, to rupture the power relations that exist among 'people of colour'" (2005, p. 36). While there were many commonalities among the women I interviewed, there were differences as well. For example, Minister Sister Dinah, Condo, Shelly, Kiki, Tiffany, and Lauren had health care issues inside the prison, while Chantal did not60.

Actualizing the heterogeneity among Black women doing time is critical in regard to debasing social stereotypes, stigma and racial discrimination. In light of this, it stands

I was unable to ask this question to three of the women interviewed due to time constraints. 167

to reason that racism is perpetuated and re-produced when sexual stereotyping and imagery is perceived in terms of race and gender. For example, findings from the

Commission on Systemic Racism in Ontario Prisons report stated that some correctional staff regularly ask Black women if they know the names of the father of their children

(1994, p. 20). Regardless of the differences among Black women in prison, the common denominator is the racialized meaning associated with being Black and being women. In support of countering claims of social 'abnormality' and/or inadequacy about incarcerated

Black women, the Canadian Human Rights Commission states that,

[t]he Correctional Service of Canada needs to exercise caution in using

characteristics such as race, ethnicity or disability as indicators of programming

needs. Instead, indicators of programming needs must be carefully designed to

respond to unique needs and backgrounds. It is important to avoid assessing

offenders based on a perception that those with a disability or those who are

members of racialized groups, for example, pose increased risk (2003, p. 26).

From the interviews conducted with Black women in prison, an analysis of the above mentioned emergent themes indicates that in order for institutionalized programming to work culturally based programming and more specifically race-based programming was necessary in order to facilitate more cohesive and inclusive programming. In addition to this, Black women in prison felt that more coordination and 168

presence of community agencies with mandates that were racially and culturally

appropriate to their need was necessary.

Relevant Programming for Black Women in Prison

We begin here, to specifically examine the relevance of racially and culturally

appropriate programming for women in prison. Prison programming based on Cognitive

Behaviour Models is fundamentally flawed precisely because a) the lived experiences of

women of colour are discounted and b) the programming is ideologically constructed

around Eurocentric understandings of rehabilitation. Clearly, these are not the only two

derivatives that we can highlight in this situation, but due to the scope of my analysis,

these are the two most significant. Based on the interconnected economic, social and

political terrain in Canada, the relevance of prison programming for Black women is

connected to understanding the social implications of belonging and citizenship for Black

women upon their release from prison. If prisons measure 'success rates' for

rehabilitation based on prisoner recidivism, the picture is incomplete. This mode of

measurement does not take into account many of the struggles (poverty, abuse, stigma,

unemployment, disconnect from family and friends) that women face upon their release.

When Black women do not return to prison, this does not mean that they have achieved

economic and social parity with their white counterparts. Although they may make

different choices so as not to return to prison, many still face hardships, now magnified by the fact that they have a criminal record. Prison programming, then, should work to 169

facilitate and equip women with the tools to navigate these dilemmas, and it should be done in concert with the input of the women who are the experts of their lives.

When I asked women if they felt that there was racially and culturally relevant programming for Black women available at GVI, they responded in the following ways:

Lauren: For us as Black women they should have that training but it should be for

us, because as Black women our lifestyle, our culture is different and I will

straight up day it than a white culture, totally different I know this because I grew

up with white people and I've lived amongst them for so long to see that 'you're

lifestyle is totally different 'cuz I cannot speak to my parents or speak to my

elders, white Black or anything a certain way and it's from when you are a youth

things have been put in you and wait until you're grown - you can learn it when

you are grown, but it's a lot harder 'cuz are stuck in your ways...but from a youth

these things need to be taught. In here the Black woman - you need somebody -

yeah we may have anger issues that you as a white teacher cannot understand

where I come from why I'm angry and do you think I will be comfortable enough

to sit there and say 'this is why I am angry' for you to understand because your

interpretation of it will be totally different.

Shelly: Not so much. The programs...I feel the programs don't really help us as

inmates trying to do better in general, but as far as being a Black women, I don't 170

feel as though it's more directed towards Caucasians...I've haven't looked at it like

that...

In Shelly's case she explained to me that her main focus was on completing her

correctional plan. Therefore for her, the manifestation or lack of race-based curriculum

was secondary to doing what the institution required of her in order to be released without paper-incident.

In light of the above, I next asked women what recommendations they would

make in regard to programming for Black women in prison:

Condo: A women of colour representative - just like how you said a women of

colour - cuz you can't say the Black inmates and friends association - a women of

colour because Black women's in various varieties.. .the colour of Black - what is

Black? A lot of white people don't even know. A [Black] Parole Officer would be

good; there is a PO (Parole Office) that deals with Aboriginal women - Aboriginal

female offenders only, and Black women have absolutely nothing, they have

nothing like that -1 don't get it, I don't understand that concept, I really don't.

Condo spoke to me about her experiences as a mixed race woman (Black and Aboriginal)

whose early experiences of racism shaped how she goes about her business in prison. She

navigates both "sides" of her racial identity in order to access what she needs to survive.

She told me that because she feels that she doesn't look mixed, she gets treated and 171

accepted in different situations. For example, during our interview she told me about a situation where she was talking with some of the other prisoners. Someone made a disparaging remark about Blacks, not realizing that she was part Black. When she reacted to the comment, indicating that what they were saying was inappropriate and racist, the women looked surprised. It was a telling moment for her and one in which she realized that they way she 'looked' was very much grounded in historical notions and definitions of 'Black'. For Condo, when she needs to access resources that are designated for

Aboriginal women, she will do so. Conversely, she also acknowledged that resources for

Black women in prison are lacking and/or insufficient. She negotiates both sides of her identity daily in an effort to maintain some sort of balance in sometimes chaotic and racialized situations.

Black women in prison are talking. While the exclusion of Black women in political decision-making sectors of Canada may seem to normalize the social position of racialized women as marginal and absolute, clearly we see this is not the case. In accordance with recommendation No. 1 from the CHRC, it reads that "It is recommended that the Correctional Service of Canada develop and implement a needs assessment process that responds to the needs of federally sentenced women, including Aboriginal women, women who are members of racialized groups and women with disabilities"

(2003, p. 27). In order to work with Black women in prison in an effort to move towards reintegration, culturally and racially relevant programming is critical. I spoke with women who echoed each other's sentiments regarding feelings of isolation, irrelevance, and exclusion when it comes to racially and culturally appropriate programming. The 172

common denominator regarding the exigent need for racially and culturally appropriate programming whether delivered inside the prison, or by an outside agency, is that the lack of inclusion and connection to the material reality of Black women's lives ought to be included as central to their reality of pre-release and reintegration planning. What reintegration looks like and means to Black women is heterogeneous because the experiences of their lives while crosscutting similarities are also peppered with differences.

Although this chapter has argued that historical and contemporary erasure of race- based curriculum and program delivery for women in prison is problematic at best, it is important to note that some of the women interviewed such as Cyndi L. and Shelly did not see race-based program delivery as relevant to their overall reintegration needs.

(How) can Canadian Black Feminist Criminology address this issue? One way in which to begin theorizing around this question is to examine the ways in which Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology is an anti-racist, de-colonizing theory and methodology. Because

Black women are located in a variety of class positions, a possessive investment in herstories is both epistemologically and paradigmatically necessary. Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology cannot sustain its multi-vocality if it is done in isolation and exclusion of Black women who are in contact with the Canadian criminal justice system.

The confluence of language, theory, and practice purports that one can indeed speak of one's own experiences (feminist standpoint theory). Therefore, it is critical to not only examine the material conditions of Black women's lives, but also to acknowledge that the 173

pillars upon which much of this work is built rests firmly on the backs of incarcerated

Black women. As Cyndi L. eloquently puts it:

Cyndi L.: I do not want to return back here, it's like the body is tired, the heart is

tired, mind is tired, that's it.. .1 hope to see you five years from now...all I want to

say is that we on a whole as Black people - that's older Black people - we are

really failing our younger generation because right now look what's happening in

our society - we old people is burying the young people instead of it's the other

way around the young people burying us the old people. We have to get up and

talk, we have to rally, we have to show them that there is people there for them.

People is saying it's all about money, it's not all about money - it's all about love.

God, I think we could conquer this world with love and God to our Black

children, I think we can. 174

CHAPTER 7

COMING FULL CIRCLE: CANADIAN BLACK FEMINIST CRIMINOLOGY AND FUTURE IMPLICATONS

On April 10, 1734 Marie Joseph Angelique was hanged for allegedly burning the city of Montreal; on May 8, 2000 the last women were transferred from the Prison for

Women in Kingston, Ontario to Grand Valley Institution for Women; and on January 20,

2009 Barack Hussein Obama was inaugurated as the 44th president of the United States of

America. I would be remiss in this closing chapter to dismiss the relevance of 'post- racial'61 rhetoric permeating the airwaves in light of one of the most historical US elections to take place. How does this affect incarcerated persons in North America? Until recently, in Canada, the polite face of racism (see Henry and Tator, 2006) was denied as that which ideologically operates injudicial proceedings, arrests and convictions. Only after the Toronto Star (2002) published a series exposing racial bias in the frequency of police stops, searches and seizure in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) against members of the Black/African Canadian community was racial profiling acknowledged. In Canada, we tend to see ourselves, those of us with citizenship rights, as more tolerant than the US, whose history of overt racism (lynchings, hangings) remain etched in the annals of

Confederation. However, as has been argued, the reality of racism in Canada for many people of colour and specifically for Aboriginals and Blacks has been defined by cultural genocide, political, social and economic oppression. Rhetorically, in the United States of

America, the election of a Black man as President does not mean the end of racism in

61 Some American pundits have argued that the election of America's first Black president signals the end of racial divide in America. 175

America, rather as one political pundit argues it is where we now begin to talk about race in [North] America. Yet, as members of the Grand Old Party62 (GOP) eyes and others watch this media labelled 'rockstar' president navigate this post, I work here to connect many of the common threads outlined in the previous six chapters. In addition, this chapter seeks to bring to the forefront the many hopes and dreams that Black women in prison rely on for survival and as modes of resistance. Lastly, this chapter will look at the connection between scholar-activism and reformationist/abolitionist imperatives.

On August 29, 2005, when New Orleans was under siege or rather underwater by nature's fury and/or humankind's creation of global warming, millions of people, mostly of colour were displaced from their homes. Labelled internal refugees in America, outcries of racism and neglect proliferated and dominated media outlets. The (lack of) response by the Bush Administration to attend to and acknowledge the magnitude of the crisis was yet again an example of the contemporary re-writing of institutionalized racism and the political and social upheaval that Hurricane Katrina caused can still be felt today.

Thousands of displaced Black New Orleanians have yet to return to their homes; children are still missing; whites with money have re-built their homes. It was no accident that those most affected by the storm were racialized persons. In this racially segregated state

"the Black poverty rate of 35% was more than three times the white rate of 11%, and 43% of poor Blacks lived in poor neighborhoods" (Jargowsky, 1996; 2003, Brooking

Institution 2005, Wagner and Edwards, 2006 as cited in Hartman and Squires, 2006, p. 4).

Poverty is socially constructed, ideologically and politically maintained. Therefore, racial

In the United States of America, commonly referred to as the Republican Party. 176

disparities in New Orleans are historically relevant to understanding contemporary new and old racisms.

When the rains came, prisoners were among many of the last to be rescued.

Accounts of the rising flood waters in prison cells were ignored. Whilst the urgency and the magnitude of the catastrophe loomed, prisoners held in the Templeman III building were left unattended. This building is one of several buildings in the Orleans Parish

Prison and as the waters rose, more than 600 prisoners were abandoned by Correctional

Officers (Human Rights Watch, 2005). When the levees broke, so did the spirit and the lives of already disenfranchised Blacks. What we saw taking place in and outside of prison walls, was a reminder of what Foucault (1977) has argued: that prisons are a microcosm of our larger respective environments, and how we treat prisoners is a reflection of dominant hegemonic moral and social codes.

Ideology is an active "epistemological gesture" which can be used by erasing the history of a group of people and re-inscribing and re-presenting that group as the constructed 'other'. The historical and contemporary erasure of race-politics and the politics of race is yet another important paradigmatic framework in Canadian Black

Feminist Criminology. In this final chapter we will explore the ways in which we can begin to contextualize the epistemological, interconnected and multiple social relations that pedagogically interconnect Canadian Black Feminist Criminology with incarcerated

Black women's ethnography and activism.

•k ie -k -k 177

As Marie-Joseph Angelique waited in the makeshift cell for the disposition of her trial, Afua Cooper (2006) author of The Hanging of Angelique: The Untold Story of

Canadian Slavery and the Burning of Montreal, questions what Angelique must have been thinking just before she was hanged. Was she frightened and coming to the realization that her fate was already pre-determined and death, in this case might be a reprieve? Or was she defiant, resolute to the end; a Black Portuguese woman, whose act of resistance would leave a legacy albeit hidden in the annals of Canadian history? When

Minister Sister Dinah is released from Grand Valley Institution in July 2009, one can speculate that the notoriety that has followed her high profile crime will garner media attention and sensationalism. Unlike Angelique, she explained to me that she is grateful for the community support that has cushioned her difficult time behind bars for the last six years:

Minister Sister Dinah: My community is still behind me - my mother, my father

lives in Chicago, I have six sisters and one brother in Canada; and almost twenty

nieces and nephews so I have a large family. All my nieces and nephews are

Canadian born. Our family is large. Our community and friends - they have stuck

with me through this whole thing. My mother's friend, everybody has helped her

with my children. Several churches have reached out to my children because after

they met them they realized 'you guys know a lot about your Bible';' You guys

63 (M.S. Dinah, personal communication, June 8, 2009 at Grand Valley Institution for Women). 178

believe in God'. They were really shocked to see [that] 'it's your mother who

committed this crime and gone to prison? Something else is going on'. The church

really found it odd because they found my four children...they found them so

incredibly smart and so well in tuned, they couldn't understand what was going

on. So there's a lot of question on Black people's mind where I am concerned -

what is the real story with this woman? And for that, that's what makes me feel

comfortable because I know we're not stupid and racism cannot cause people to

hate us who they've known all our lives, they've helped to raise us or they've just

known us in passing - we are a people.

Upon the completion of our interview, I thought about the connections between

Angelique and Minister Sister Dinah. Two Black women incarcerated and tagged social misfits and deviants. Two Black women, resilient and controversial for their strength and defiance; one woman's herstory has eloquently been told - long overdue, the other has yet to be completed. I remember my interview with Minister Sister Dinah ran over two hours. She told me about deeply personal parts of her life - narratives that the mainstream media chose not to focus on. She has regrets about the crime she committed and takes responsibility for her actions. She makes no excuses for the outcome that has befallen her.

There is, after all this time, still pain and suffering endured by both families - hers and her victims - of the realization that some things just can't be undone. Yet, I asked about her hopes and dreams for herself and her family. Release from prison can provide the opportunity for change, but transitioning to a different and new way of living is not 179

without challenges. Along with Minister Sister Dinah, Tiffany and Cyndi L. expressed their apprehension about their release:

Interviewer: Do you have any fears about starting over?

Tiffany: Yeah there's kinda intimidation and I'm overwhelmed because there's a

lot of changes, I've been out of the country for over two years...I don't know if I'll

get hired, how long will it take, what I'd be doing. My life has been on pause for

the last two years...I'm a worry wart. I'm always worried, I'm always concerned. A

lot of these things will get to me and I have anxiety attacks and stuff so I try not to

worry myself because I know things will come in due time.

Interviewer: What are some issues of concern that you may face upon your

release from the institution? Do you have any concerns around reintegration? Are

you scared?

Cyndi L.: Yes I am scared because as I say I have accumulate a lot of criminal

record over the years, my criminal record is long and I could tell you white, Black

or pink whoever look at my record is not gonna want to hire me straight up you

understand me? unless then I could explain to them and it's certain work place I

would have to work because nobody's gonna trust me because its mostly stealing 180

on my record and I do have the education now to do certain things but because of

my criminal record it's gonna pull me back...

The fears that these three women expressed to me indicated that a project of this magnitude requires further research in order to make other connections to the developments and progress that Black women are working towards in their communities, as well as to make visible the struggles that Black women have with reintegration.

Incarceration is complex and the analysis presented here is just the beginning of these stories. The journey is continual. The experiences that these women have with life in prison began long before their incarceration and how they emerge from the experience - only time will tell. As we begin to move towards the next phase of this research, women I interviewed shared with me their hopes and dreams for their futures upon their release:

Chantal: I want to be social service worker...I just want to be happy I don't want

my kids to go through what I went through, come to jail...I'm just gonna try and

be good mother and take care of them as good as possible and [ask] God to help

me take care of them.

Cyndi L.: My hopes is right now...I have a nice man, understanding never been in

trouble in his life, I'm the first one to ever let him walk in a court house, I'm the

first one to ever let him walk in an institution to visit me and he's willing to do all

that on the condition that when I come out I'm gonna change completely...and so

my hope is as I told you my hope is to never to steal again, change my life I have 181

an education now so I can get a job...even if I have to work at a factory right now.

I'm gonna be doing work and I wanna do Sunday School at my church. I wanna volunteer to teach the kids because I think I'll have a lot of impact on these kids. I did a lot of Bible study and got my certificate so I can show them out there that I do know about the Bible and teach these kids. Eventually I want to get married again, and eventually I want to clear my record, get my Canadian Citizenship and show the system that a person can change, because there's nothing in this world that no one can say a person cannot change. A person could be at one and make a

360 degree change if they want to, your heart has to be in it and to me once you want that change God will help you -1 have such a strong faith in that; that God will help you, and that like I'd love to see you five years from now to see what

Cyndi L. becomes -1 would love to show you that a person can change.

Condo: For myself, I would like to remain substance free, and I would like to parent my children, both of my children if I get my son back but that's a battle right there - I gotta go for appeal for crown ward ship so that's a struggle right there..

Lauren: My stat [Statutory Release] is '09. Since I've been disappointed so much within this institution and the system all together, like totally disappointed...they say that everybody has equal rights and are entitled... I don't find that but that's my personal experience, I don't find that. So hopes and dreams is that one day by the grace of God, I'll be with family and work from there. My education wise, I 182

hope for an education 'cuz I do want to further my education. I'm very simple living and I enjoy my PSW (personal support work), all I want to do - other than doing that cuz I enjoy caring for other people - is more down [the line] like Lab tech, Pharmers tech, or Occupational Therapy Assistant. So those three areas are more where I want to go. I got my grade twelve. I was so happy 'cuz I got it done here, 'cuz I could do everything else I could go and do, but that was one thing that was always hindering me and to be able to get my grade twelve ...my long term goal is to one day leave Canada, just go abroad, go to Africa and help there, build there, do something for there, that's my long term goal, then I know I'm contributing, then I know I'm bettering, then I'm learning about my roots...'cuz me as a Canadian saying it - Canada is not all that. It's a shame to say, and I'm a

Canadian saying it. So I'm not saying I'm ungrateful, but this equal rights thing and equal privilege, and equal opportunity is really not as equal as it seems.

Shelly: [My hopes and dreams are] to be a good mom and to raise my daughter in a good home with you know, with a father and mother and to later on further my education...that's really why I haven't taken that final step, 'cuz I can see myself doing a lot of things that I could be good at and I have a lot of interests... I love the arts...I went to a school of the arts (high school) I played piano...there are lessons going on [here]. And I [took] jazz acrobatics, and ballet, and I draw... 183

Tika Marie: I would love to go to school...I would love to talk to children - one, two, three, four, five, six...there's peer pressures in high school, but it starts there

and that's what I believe; and just to tell my story and help youths before it gets

out of hand; The violence is just crazy, [in my high school days] you didn't have to worry losing your shoes, or you didn't have to worry about 'can I have my iPod'...my nephew wanted an MP3 Player [and] his dad will not let him have it because people will [jack] kids up for this kind of stuff; like you didn't have to worry about these things when I was growing up and bullying - they're bullying you because of something that's going on within themselves - I would love to tell my story.

Dominique: I have a grandson; he is three years old. Get my relationship with my daughter back on par...make some money

Minister Sister Dinah: so for my long term future, I don't see and feel the need to remain in Canada because I always feel [we] are victimized and if we're going to

commit a crime and do the time and have a release date to come out there is no way we should still be victimized, and I see the news they play into these things, you feed into destroying people. What sense is there if you keep destroying lives and you're not able to build and so I don't really see them building their own people find to find a way out with what they're doing. So for myself and for my 184

people, I continue to pray to God because from Africa we came, to Africa we shall

return with God help - Rastafari.

Kiki: I [was] always about studying law, potentially being a lawyer, but I hope

that maybe one day that will happen, but obviously I'm gonna have to do

something before that can happen so I was thinking about studying as a paralegal

getting into hopefully a good firm and then going back to school...

Tiffany: I mean I know anywhere I'm released in the community could be

Toronto or Scarborough or, I know I can do well 'cuz basically it's about common

sense how you look at things and how you approach things. The community really

doesn't have any influence on me, I mean, yeah if you're in a good environment

you can always flourish you know what I mean.

Black women in prison have many different hopes and dreams for their future.

The common denominator is that all of the women I interviewed expressed hopes for a better future in spite of the obstacles that they may face. As of June 2009, all of the women I interviewed with the exception of Tiffany whom I interviewed in the community and Minister Sister Dinah whose release is scheduled for July 2009 , have been released

- one was deported. Follow-up communication has indicated that those released have not returned to Grand Valley as of this writing. One young woman interviewed, Kiki, with

64 Minister Sister Dinah was released in July 2009. In January 2010,1 spoke with her over the phone and she indicated to me that things have been going well for her and her family. 185

the help of Minister Sister Dinah received a community scholarship for youth. Their criminal records will follow them as they navigate the ebbs and flows of life.

Incarceration is a tough lesson to learn - the price paid for many of these Black women is often about working to get one's life back together.

The significance of this work crosses borders, boundaries and bodies. The United

States now boasts a prison population that surpasses two million (Sudbury, 2005), and in

Canada we currently are witnessing the rapid rise in the detention and imprisonment of

Muslims, Aboriginal people, and Caribbean/African Blacks (see NWAC, 2007; CAEFS,

2004; Wark, 2006; Lawrence and Williams, 2006). We began this dissertation with the story of a young Black Portuguese woman, Marie-Joseph Angelique. The trajectory paved from her legacy sought to examine how the historical connections between Black and Aboriginal women are relevant to contemporary theorizing about incarcerated Black women doing time in Canadian prisons. We have discussed how the feminization of nation has implications for the tenure of belonging on Aboriginal land. Yet we have not actualized how the concept of nation is conversely critical to the struggle for land claims and sovereignty for Aboriginal communities (see Andrea Smith, 2005). We do not negate this exploration; rather it serves as yet another reminder as to the multi-dimensionality of feminist theorizing. As researchers, the shared herstories of cultural genocide perpetuated against Black and Aboriginal women haunt us: from chattel slave mistresses to racist residential school kidnappings; from the denial of birth rights to forced sterilizations; from state sanctioned domestic violence to environmental racism; and from colonization to re-colonization, the politics of neo-colonial and neo-liberalism regimes occupy a 186

continual insurgency of moral panics as connected to rights and access in the re/writing of

citizenship on the bodies of racialized women.

Doing anti-prison work is not easy. In theory and in practice, abolitionist

perspectives do not occupy the popular rhetoric in mainstream society. Daily, we are

bombarded by hyper-sensationalized media images of crime that only serve to heighten

the moral panic that infiltrates public consciousness. As such, the tensions one encounters

when doing this work are many. As an anti-prison activist, I sometimes experience

disconnection from family and friends, raised eyebrows, and awkward glances when

talking about my activist work. What is challenging about employing scholar-activist

perspectives is that as both an anti-prison activist and as a scholar doing research about

incarcerated Black women, I confront insider/outsider dilemmas and the dominance of

whiteness. In North America, activist spaces are conceived and perceived as "white-only"

spaces. Gosine (2003) reminds us that people of colour are present in activist spaces and

what is required for inclusivity is decision-making power.

This work has also examined how Critical Race Feminism (CRT) aids in helping us to understand the ways in which the Canadian criminal (injustice system affects Black women's lives. We have also explored how representations of social identities

surrounding Black female sexuality are bound up with other constructs of our time such as race, class, and gender. Therefore, anti-prison activism is shaped by the myriad of ways in which multiple oppressions crosscut the "matrix of domination" and how "these intersecting oppressions are actually organized" (Collins, 2000, p. 18). Beginning from the position that the law does not operate in neutrality, the disproportionate numbers of 187

incarcerated Black women enter into this "matrix" umbilically connected to issues of oppression. Julia Sudbury makes the compelling argument that prisons are "diasporic sites ... connecting contemporary experiences of repression and resistance to collective memories of slavery and rebellion" (2004, p. 16). Her argument illustrates how the caging of Black women's bodies in the capitalist desiring machine is profitable. A conceptual mapping of this equation might look something like this: media driven images of terrorist attacks and high crime rates + creation of moral panics about public and private security + more money for building prisons + increased police, state and judicial budgets + over- policing, racist immigration and refugee "security" measures + targeting of poor communities + disproportionate incarceration rates for people of colour = maintenance of white supremacist status quo. Diasporic spaces are not pristine. Therefore, analysis depicting the configuration of Black women's bodies as a central factor in Canadian nation building is incomplete. With regard to incarceration and detention, the stories of

Black women often rest on the periphery, if not negated entirely.

In Canada, the recent rising rates of Black women's imprisonment are connected to the skyrocketing campaigns to combat the "war on drugs" (Lawrence and Williams,

2006). In the 1980s, American President Ronald Reagan ushered in a vitriolic, conservative and highly racialized political regime to criminalize Black women who struggled with substance dependency. Political propaganda labelled Black women as

"crack mothers/whores" and positioned cocaine users-often white elites—in opposition to this image. According to Enid Logan (1999), Black women were blamed for social moral decay and political powerbrokers diverted attention away from economic transformations, 188

domestic social policy and institutional racism to that of drug use in Black communities and the increased surveillance and policing of Black women resulting in some cases with incarceration and sterilization65 campaigns. The fallout from this overenthusiastic political frenzy meant that Black people, and in particular Black women, were over- policed, arrested, and sentenced to harsher penalties than their white counterparts. More recently, poor Caribbean and North American Black women have been incarcerated for smuggling small quantities of illegal drugs transnationally (Sudbury, 2005).The reliance on the state to solve social problems (incarceration as treatment for mental health and substance dependency issues) negates the realization that the evisceration of Black women's lives means that they are caught up in a system of deprived social, economic, and cultural restraints that serve as mitigating factors as to why some come in contact with the Canadian Criminal (in)Justice System. My aim, then, is to position Black feminist criminology as central to any debate regarding Black women's incarceration in

Canada. As such, locating and naming racism within the Canadian Criminal (in)Justice

System is imperative (Razack, 1998). This 'naming' however is not without discontent.

Similarly, Marxist theorist Himani Bannerji problematizes the importance of a "reflexive, integrative analysis" concerning racism in personal, political, and professional situations.

She illustrates the power racism has to distort us (1995, p. 106)—both the colonized and

65 Margaret Sanger was head of the American Birth Control League (ABCL) and coined the phrase "birth control." Her lifelong crusade for procreative rights led her to become a staunch proponent of birth control campaigns and she was a proponent for birth control in order to advance the socio-economic progression of white women. She supported eugenic campaigns, once arguing that "[m]orons, mental defectives, epileptics, illiterates, paupers, unemployables, criminals, prostitutes and dope fiends ought to be surgically sterilized" (quoted in A. Y. Davis, 1983, p. 214). In 1939, the successor from the ABCL, the Birth Control Federation of America established the "Negro Project" to recruit Black ministers to lead local birth control committees in their communities. Sanger supported this endeavour, writing that proponents of the Negro Project should be strategic in their campaigning so as not to alarm "more rebellious members" of the Black community. See A. Y. Davis, Women, race & class (New York: Vintage books, 1983). 189

the colonizer. The differential impact of racism that incarcerated women of colour experience challenges us to look at how systems of patriarchy, and neo-colonialism are interconnected and how by extension these systems maintain ideals of citizenship and belonging. The differential impact of racism also asks us to envision other ways of contextualizing punishment.

Reformation or Abolition?

The use of these two terms interchangeably is problematic. For one, reformations of the penal system do not call for the abolishment for prisons. A reformationist standpoint focuses more on querying the multiple ways in which punishment is exacted - making prisons more humane. Conversely, an abolitionist standpoint critiques the prison as an isolated institution (A. Y. Davis, 2003), and calls for a dismantling of all systems of incarceration including psychiatric institutions. In order to work towards changing our current hegemonic social order, penal abolitionists such as Angela Davis argue that "[w]e would recognize that punishment does not follow from "crime" in the neat and logical sequence offered by discourses that insist on the justice of imprisonment, but rather punishment...is linked to the agendas of politicians, the profit drive of corporations, and media representations of crime" (2003, p. 112). However, the theoretical framework of abolitionists is questioned when one argue that dismantling the prison and replacing that structure with something else where persons convicted of crimes will be housed, still amounts to incarceration (Parenti, 1999). Sudbury, argues that in the U.S. and Canada, abolition activists adopt the term to draw connections between the abolition of slavery 190

and the dismantling of prisons (2009, p. 8). This position has also been critiqued by those who claim that prisons should be considered warehouses for the poor, rather than a new form of slavery due in part because access to work is coveted by some and denied to many prisoners, therefore prisoner's work "privileges" are incapacitated rather than forced labour (Gilmore, 2007, cited in Sudbury, 2009). In order not to minimize the treacherous, debilitating, and genocidal conditions of slavery, abolitionists find the slavery-prison analogy useful to theorizing prison abolition since historical connections can be made to the ways in which people of colour have been subjected to state sanctioned surveillance, over/under-policing, and violence as connected to incarceration for profit motive, family separation and breakdown, forced sexual labour, and economic, social, political, and cultural dissonance.

In our current global landscape, prisons occupy the dubious distinction of that which is created by pop-culture media driven images. Most people do not have direct contact or knowledge about prisons or prisoners. Much of what people know about prisons is relayed to us via multi-media enterprise. Therefore the commonsensical knowledge that results is grounded in subjectivity, rather than critical analysis. Clearly, we cannot dismiss the relevance of subjugated knowledge; however, the point being made here is that rates or crime are economically, socially and politically connected. Poverty is not natural, and the majority of persons doing time in Canadian prisons are incarcerated for poverty related, non-violent crimes.

In her book Are Prisons Obsolete, Angela Davis (2003) asks us to reason the ways in which restorative justice and other ways of responding to crime can actually be more 191

healing and beneficial in the creation of a more just society. A world without prisons does not mean social anarchy; rather it calls for the dismantling of institutionalized sexism, racism, classism, Islamophobia, and homophobia. It would call for the Canadian government to not just simply apologize to Aboriginals, Japanese Canadians, South

Asians, Black Canadians, Irish immigrants, and all Othered peoples who have suffered cultural genocide, but it would also require the full participatory acknowledgement and involvement of marginalized groups in cultural, social, and political realms. How feasible and possible is this? Some argue that abolitionist perspectives are Utopian - fairy dust fantasies encapsulated in 1960s peace-love-and-groovyness rhetoric. Others, (Sudbury,

2005, 2009; Gilmore, 2007; Saleh-Hanna, 2008) are scholar-activists who support the contention that "abolitionism66 should not now be considered an unrealizable Utopian dream, but rather the only possible way to halt the further transnational development of prison industries" (A. Y. Davis, 2000).

Can we imagine a world without prisons? Many of us might answer a resounding

'no'. We would instead question how methods of social control are necessary deterrents to crime. Furthermore, we would question how do we punish those who commit heinous crimes? What about victim's right? What about societal safety? These questions are not

Further, among abolitionists there is still much work to be done. For example, at the 2000 International Conference on Penal Abolition (ICOPA) held in Toronto, there was much criticism and discussion about the lack of race analysis in abolition theorizing. The conference which brings together international activists and academics, has managed over the years to raise awareness and make known many of the critical underlying issues associated with incarceration. However, many people of colour in attendance expressed discord at the white homogeneity of the conference. See A.Y. Davis, and D. Rodriguez, The challenge of prison abolition: A conversation, 2000, http://findarticles.eom/p/articles/mi_hb3427/is_3_27/ai_n28811207/pg_5/?tag=content;col 1 (Retrieved August 21, 2008). Again I make clear that revolutionary movements against oppression are not homogenous, indeed we should not assume that coalition building, resistance, and solidarity are without discontent. 192

taken lightly; therefore we do not question the possibility or even envision that which

seems impossible. One anti-prison activist argues that prison abolition refers to more than

the abolition of the physical structure of the prison:

When I say the prisons, I mean the physical prison itself, but also the prisons we

create in our communities. Whether those are physical like the projects that the

government keeps building up and locking us in, and also the mental ones that we

put ourselves in, all the social constructs that society projects on us...If we have so

many drug crimes and we have so many property crimes, then let's start

addressing the mental health of our people and the economic development of our

communities. Let's get to the root causes of why people commit crimes (quoted in

Sudbury, 2009, p. 13).

My goal here is to remind the reader of the possibility of social justice activism and revolutionary justice. Eurocentric history books are filled with the travel writings of orientalist discourse re/presented as truth. We begin, then, from here - to move past what we already know: racism exists, inequality is constructed and power-brokered, racialized persons are warehoused in prisons at a more fervent rate than their white counterparts.

Women's work is re-colonized in the global south, violence against women and children is pervasively connected to patriarchy and masculinities, women's bodies are symbols of war, and environmental racism, racial profiling, and the feminization of poverty are the result of the making of social undesirables as social problems. So what would a world 193

without prisons look like? Angela Davis responds:

In order to imagine a world without prisons - or at least a social landscape no

longer dominated by the prison - a new popular vocabulary will have to replace

the current language, which articulates crime and punishment in such a way that

we cannot think about a society without crime except as a society in which all the

criminals are imprisoned. Thus, one of the first challenges is to be able to talk

about the many ways in which punishment is linked to poverty, racism, sexism,

homophobia, and other modes of dominance. In the university, the emergence of

the interdisciplinary field of prison studies can help to trouble the prevailing

criminology discourses that shape public policy as well as popular ideas about the

permanence of prisons. At the high school level, new curricula can also be

developed that encourage critical thinking about the role of punishment.

Community organizations can also play a role in urging people to link their

demands for better schools, for example, to a reduction of prison spending (2000,

p. 5).

But we are still left with questions here: how will the abolition movement respond to violence against women, incest, and rape? Traditional criminology has focused on crimes perpetrated by women in the clinical sense, and ignored the study of masculinities and patriarchy in the crimes perpetrated against women (Rafter and Heidensohn, 1995, p. 5).

Moreover, where is the analysis of same-sex relations in feminist criminological 194

theorizing? To envision a world without prisons is to envision emancipatory politics, rather than simply abolitionist perspectives. Abolition may mean the end of formal/legal systems of oppression, but if ideological systemic and institutional racism persists, then emancipation can never truly be actualized.

Conclusion: Undressing the Emperor's Clothes

We return here to the above query - how does race politics and the re-production of racism shift in constellations when intersecting with incarceration and ideas of citizenship and belonging? If according to Stasiulis and Bakan (1997) citizenship is perceived as an ideal type, then for Black women in prison the assumption of fairness, equality and democratic rights does not apply to them. The demarcation of access and social inclusion is predicated on the concept of race. In Canada this relies on the notion that "[t]he idea of 'citizenship' itself is a politically and socially constructed expression of the development of the advanced capitalist nation state" (Stasiulis and Bakan, 1997, p.

115). The researching and writing of this dilemma becomes contested, particularly when writing as a woman of colour. Post-modern reformations of conquest are re-articulated in the rhetoric of citizenship status: Black women with citizenship status and no criminal record may have legal access to move in and through Canadian society in a guarded fashion, gaining entry to certain political and social spheres, but not all at any time, and often conditionally based on the oppressors ease at which this entry can take place. Black women with citizenship status and a criminal record are not necessarily guaranteed the protection that citizenship promises, because that promise has been compromised by time 195

behinds bars. Lastly, Black women with no citizenship status and a criminal record are

'temporary aliens'; similar to domestic workers with temporary work visas, these women have no access or legal redress in which to attain citizenship and therefore their experiences have been rendered invisible by the dominant discourses of race and/or gender (Welsh et al, 2006).

Stuart Hall (1980) argues that moral regulation processes often take their cues from media-driven moral panics (see also Stuart Hall, 1978; Stanley Cohen, 1972). Public impressions of Black women as 'welfare mothers' and/or 'oversexed parasites' create

Black women as a social problem in need of a remedy. Moreover, what results is a discourse of femininity that positions Black women in opposition to their white counterparts, and represents these women as in need of policing and surveillance. With an intensified focus on legislating social behaviour as dictated by the Canadian Criminal

Code (see Brock, 1998), Black women who are seen to contravene the legal tenets of law are socially sanctioned in a punitive sense. Furthermore, coming in negative contact with the law is seen as inhibiting and/or revoking any rights to Canadian citizenship.

Understanding how prison impacts Black women's lives when serving time and upon release from prison positions Black women's narratives as central to any debates regarding their incarceration in Canada.

This project is not finished; it cannot be as long as the lived experiences of Black women behind bars remains ignored, silenced, and negated. This final chapter has sought to introduce some of the salient features pertinent to discussions that reveal the importance of centering Canadian Black feminist thought and scholar-activism in relation 196

to understanding how incarceration impacts Black women doing time. A new field of

inquiry called Canadian Black Feminist Criminology addressed why this work is

important. Why is it critical that we address and contextualize notions of Black feminist

thought and activism in this way? By extension, why is the process of de-colonizing

teaching methodologies significant to activist pursuits, particularly in shaping our

understanding of citizenship and belonging discourses? This work is important because

countless countries and nations have been built upon the backs of Black women and other

women of colour. Our bodies have for centuries carried the burden of social, economic,

and cultural "hatreds." Political disenfranchisement has been and continues to be a salient

feature of marginalization in our respective communities, yet still we rise. We rise out of

a "Black consciousness" that supports and helps us to continually work towards

recognition that our political and socio-cultural work should not be dismissed or de-

legitimized. We rise so that we may re/educate ourselves, and others, about the legacies

of our shared herstories in an effort to work through the triumphs and disappointments.

And we salute our ancestors who endured the pain and ills of slavery so that we may

re/educate ourselves about the mis-education of our "selves." We embody a strength that

carries us even when we are tired, to create anti-racist, anti-sexist, and anti-classist

education in an effort to work towards revolutionary social justice activism.

I remember Chantal, Condo, Cyndi L. Dominique, Kiki, Lauren, Minister Sister

Dinah, Shelly, Tiffany, and Tika Marie; I say your name Marie-Joseph Angelique, because this journey began with you. 197

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APPENDIX A - REB APPROVAL ___ lip

UNIVERSITY UNIVERSITY Certificate #: STU 2007 - 085

Approval Period: 06/04/07-06/04/08 OFFICE OF RESEARCH ETHICS (ORE) 309 York Lanes

4700 Keele St. Toronto ON Memo Canada M3J1P3 Tel 416 736 5055 To: Raimunda Reece, Department of Women's Studies Fax 416 736 5837 [email protected] www.research.yorku.ca From: Alison M. Collins-Mrakas, Manager, Research Ethics

Date: Monday June 4 , 2007

Re: Ethics Approval

Caged Bodies And The Gendered Politics Of Incarceration: Exploring The Confinement Of Black Women In The Canadian Prison System

I am writing to inform you that the Human Participants Review Sub-Committee has reviewed and approved the above project.

Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact me at: 416-736-5914 or via email at: acollins(5)vorku.ca.

Yours sincerely,

Alison M. Collins-Mrakas M.Sc. Manager, Office of Research Ethics 223 A* PhtFiDljL JJ • • NHQ APPRO VAL

^ • Correiiona; Sendee Service comKtoiwel |—J f* [—I ONCC COWICTYO 1 * • Cana&a Canada B I I ** I I Uh£fOtSR£Mi>ti£ RESEARCH APPLICATION AND UNDERTAKING FORMULE OE DEMANDS DE RENSEIGNEMENTS A OES FINS Research Bfiarcctv—Corpsgate Devetopmeitt DE RECHERCHE ET ENGAGEMENTS CORRELATES Direction do ta rectorche - Devcioppement ojgani$at*orm@i NOTE -SEE REVERSE FOR TERMS ANO CONDITIONS NOTA - VOIR LES CONDITIONS AU VERSO Qatg subm£ted Dale d&pe&ge, 02007-08-05 RESEARCH PROJECT . PROvlET OE RECHERCHE PROJECT TITLE: - flTRE OU PROJET : Caged Bodies and the Gendered Politics of Incarceration: Exploring the Confinement of Black Women in the Canadian Prison System ?R^]fcTcffiiCRIPTK»l • DESCRIPTION DU PROJET Purpose: to examine how issues such as racism, class position and/or social circumstances may have contributed to the incarceration of Black women

Participants: Interviews will be conducted with 10-15 federally incarcerated Black women serving time at Grand Valley (GVI) and Nova institutions.

TYPECLASS Of INFORMATION REQUESTED - TYPE Er ClASSE DES RENSEIGNEMENTS : Crscna;a coi^annHy with tiie principles of CCRA 6. cofflriteibon to IM achlevsmera of 8» Mission aM the prioitbea e* CSC c compkange with tew Tiw^yncits Polcy Statement on Ettile*! Conduct for Rwostcft Invoking Humans & Sevet of dlsri^an to the iiiiplementaliDa of correctional ob)sc£we3 from an operational peispecsfae a. quality of sr* n-emoaology t. quaiificagcffis of tfce «5©a«2wjs g anticipated Benefit to corrections h, vseuQ for t^onery PRIMARY RESEARCHER- CHERCHEUR PRINCIPAL aj Name and Tito - Nwn en titr© Qpqrtfiwn2S IM - Unite Setter. Sectgur Region * Region Raimunda Reece York University Women's Studies Naf&nal (Ontario and Atlantic)

bj Address - Afresse c) Telephone number - N* t3s ttieprarw

OTHER RESEARCHERS-AuTRES CHERCHEURS a; N&TW and ASitissten - Nera at affiiiaticn BJ Telephone number - N* de taifrsnoae Supervisor is Dr. Deborah Brock (Sociology.'Women's Studies Depl, York University) { 416) 735-2100

bf Name arid Affiliation - Horn ei' ailnatian b) Telephone number- N" de tsleanoae Director of the Graduate Programme in Women's Studies. Dr. Meg luxton, ( 416) 736-6607

cj tiant® and AfSSatwjrs -> Nom et aft&ation c) Te9ep!ior

APPROVAL - APPROBATION Ctrecto! Gerseta3 - Research . ^, Signature Osrecteur oen*ra( - Reewwen* ^^ /^M^fe^E- Y-A M OJ Dr. Michael Margolian Original Signed 2007-08-08 Joitanne Vallee, Deputy Commissioner for Women

Brigitte lavigne, A," Director General, WO Sector WAijia.fifl2007.08-08i' 224

APPENDIX C - PARTICIPANT POSTER vOOKING FOR PARTICIPANTS TO BE INTERVIEWED IF YOU...

IDENTIFY AS A CARIBBEAN/AFRICAN WOMAN

AND

WOULD LIKE TO SHARE YOUR STORY OF INCARCERATION

I WOULD LIKE TO INTERVIEW YOU This project is being sponsored by York University under the direction of Rai Reece (interviewer). This project is not funded by the CSC and your participation is completely confidential and voluntary

Interviews will begin in September 2007 THANK YOU!!!! 225

APPENDIX D - INFORMED CONSENT Informed Consent Form - Individual and Group Form

*Please note that informed consent will be read ALOUD to all voluntary participants. Due to the nature of this project a provision of taped verbal consent must be acknowledged if interviewee is unable to provide written consent.

Study Name: Caged Bodies and The Racialized and Gendered Politics Of Incarceration: Exploring The Confinement Of Black Women In The Canadian Prison System

Researcher(s): Raimunda (Rai) Reece, Doctoral Candidate, Department of Women's Studies, [email protected]

Sponsor(s): York University Purpose of the Research: I am a Graduate Student in the Faculty of Women's Studies at York University. I am conducting research on federally incarcerated Black women in Canada. Specifically I am interested in how issues such as racism, class position and/or social circumstances may have led to your incarceration. The notes that I will be taking during focus group and individual interviews will form part of the data for my doctoral dissertation. In coordination with the institution, a time commitment of 1-2 hours is requested. I may publish parts of my research in academic journals and/or present summaries of it at conferences.

What You Will Be Asked to do in the Research: You will be asked to participate in group and/or individual interviews.

Risks and Discomforts: We do not foresee any risks or discomfort from your participation in the research. However, if at any time you are experiencing any emotional or mental discomfort you can withdraw from the interview without explanation. If at any time during the group or individual interview process you should become upset of feel emotionally vulnerable as a result of your participation, please feel free to indicate as such and contact the institution's peer support and/or psychological services. This research does not anticipate any disruption to the implementation of correctional objectives from an operational perspective

Benefits of the Research and Benefits to You: The purpose of my research is to document the experiences of Black women doing time in Canadian penal institutions. This research will specifically be guided by the narratives of Black women behind bars. This potentially presents the possibility to empower Black women who currently are or formerly have been incarcerated

Voluntary Participation: Your participation in the study is completely voluntary and you may choose to stop participating at any time. Providing your consent to participate in 226

my research does not bind you in any way to continuing with this project. Your decision not to volunteer will not influence your participation in any future follow-up research that may need to be conducted or the nature of your relationship with York University either now, or in the future. In addition, your refusal to participate in the study and/or to not answer certain questions will not jeopardize your relationship with the penal institution where you are being held or York University and/or any other support service organization(s) that you may be involved with. There is no monetary value attached to this project and you will not receive any monies for your participation.

Withdrawal from the Study: You can stop participating in the study at any time, for any reason, if you so decide. Your decision to stop participating, or to refuse to answer particular questions, will not affect your relationship with the researcher, York University, or any other group/institution associated with this project. If at any time you wish to end your participation in this project, you have the right to have your contribution stricken from record.

Confidentiality: Your real name will not be used anywhere in this research project, or in any publication or presentation that draws from it. In order to conduct my research I will be using note taking and hand held recorder for clarity and accuracy. Once I have completed and gathered the information that is needed for this research, my notes will be confiscated (destroyed), protecting your anonymity. All information you supply during the research will be held in confidence and unless you specifically indicate your consent, your name will not appear in any report or publication of the research. Your data will be safely stored in a locked facility and only I will have access to this information. Confidentiality will be provided to the fullest extent possible by law.

Questions about the Research: If you have questions about the research in general or about your role in the study, please feel free to contact my dissertation supervisor, Dr. Tania Das Gupta, (Chair, Atkinson School of Liberal and Professional Studies) by telephone at (416) 736-2100 or you can also contact the Director of the Graduate Programme in Women's Studies, Professor Meg Luxton at 416-736-5607.

This research has been reviewed by the Human Participants in Research Committee, York University's Ethics Review Board and conforms to the standards of the Canadian Tri- Council Research Ethics guidelines. If you have any questions about this process or about your rights as a participant in the study, please contact Ms. Alison Collins-Mrakas, Manager, Research Ethics, 309 York Lanes, York University at 416-736-5914 or York University's Human Participants Review (Ethics) Sub-Committee at 416-736-5055.

Legal Rights and Signatures: If you would be interested in granting me a one-one interview and/or participating in a group interview, please sign or initial below: I , consent to participate in the "Caged Bodies And The Racialized and Gendered Politics Of Incarceration: Exploring The Confinement Of Black Women In The Canadian Prison System" dissertation 227

research project conducted by Raimunda (Rai) Reece. I have understood the nature of this project and wish to participate. I am not waiving any of my legal rights by signing this form. My signature below indicates my consent.

Signature Date Participant

Signature Date Principal Investigator - Rai Reece 228

APPENDIX E - INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

Interview Questions

1. Have experiences of racism affected your life? If so in what ways? 2. Do you feel that racism and/or your gender (if you women-identify), and economic status has contributed in any way to your incarceration? 3. Please indicate what education, job training, and/or employment programs are available to you? Do you participate in them - why or why not? 4. Please talk about your life before incarceration? Did you experience any stressors around (lack of) access to employment or education? How have these experiences shaped your life? 5. What are some of your healthcare concerns in prison? a. Are these similar/different health concerns that you experienced before you came to prison? 6. What are some issues of concern that you may face upon your release from the institution? 7. Are there any community agencies/organizations that you work with or that lend support to you while incarcerated? If so, please indicate what service/s they provide. a. How have these community agencies/organizations been beneficial to you while incarcerated? b. Are the services delivered by these community agencies/organizations culturally appropriate to your needs? Please explain why or why not? c. What recommendations/suggestions do you have for community agencies/organizations that want to work with Black women inside federal institutions? 8. Upon your release how important is community support to your reintegration process? Please explain. 9. Do you have (a) child/ren? a. If so, before coming to this institution where you the primary care-giver for your child/ren? b. Who is caring for them while you are in here? c. Are you visited by your child/ren and other family/friends? How often? 10. What are your hope/dreams for your future? The future of your family/children? 11. What are some changes/recommendations that you would like to see happen in the prison system in regard to culturally specific programming for Black women? 12. What are some of the societal changes that you feel could benefit Black women before they come in contact with the Canadian Criminal Justice Syste