Students of Abolition: A Time Capsule

ABOLITION

STUDENTS OF 2021

A time capsule

by AYO, NYC!

Dear Reader...

This zine is the culmination of time spent deep in study, imagination, conversation, and community building. May these reflections of prison industrial complex (PIC) abolition by members of our 2021 AYO, NYC! cohort guide you into visionary new worlds. I'm so honored to have been a part of shaping this space with so many others, and of course the brilliance of these young people co-creating our abolitionist futures.

With Love, Alison Reba (they/them) Youth Training Coordinator Project NIA

Time capsule creatives: S.L. Jaime Lily Ahluwalia Liv Lauren Dotson Tasfiya Chris Chen J.L.S Kayana J Trasonia Kintan Silvany Akash Singh Re’Nyqua Farrington yvette fordjour Zenith Jarrett Prisca Hedaia Safiya Graphic Notes: Laura Chow Reeve Design Doula: Mickey Ferrara

LETTERS TO FUTURE ABOLITIONISTS

"Tangled in Arms" Jaime

A letter to you:

I sat down at my desk, feeling my back against the hard chair. My computer screen glowed with words written on the AYO NYC Abolitionist Institute’s email chain. I clicked the Zoom link located at the bottom of the email and watched as faces from all over the country populated my screen. The room was filled with smiles as everyone introduced themselves using the Zoom chat. The staff welcomed us and gave us a list of resources we could use to make our experience at the institute the best possible.

I have often felt limited by the world. Older adults in my community tell me that my ideas are not feasible, or that they will not work because the world cannot be changed. The AYO NYC Abolitionist Institute gave me a space to work with peers to imagine a better future. No one’s ideas were shot down, they were encouraged by staff and other participants to be examined more deeply. From restorative justice practices to radical healing we were able to learn new skills to further our work to create positive change in our communities.

The AYO NYC Abolitionist Institute has given me a new drive. It has taught me that I am not alone in the fight for a brighter future, that I have many peers working hard beside me. Now I will push back against those who tell me that my ideas are impossible. I will fight against those who uphold systems that oppress marginalized people and speak my truth when people tell me that the world can not be changed.

I am incredibly grateful that I was able to attend the AYO NYC Institute. To those who are reading this zine, I encourage you to attend next year and learn how to create an abolitionist future.

Lily Ahluwalia

permanent revolution.

One of the most important lessons that I have learned in my time doing abolitionist organizing is that abolition is not a distant future. Abolition is a current practice. It exists right now and is expanding every second. Revolution is not a one-time thing that is to be left to the next generation. Revolution is a constant transformation of ourselves and our communities. Revolution is creating safety, resources, and love outside of the repressive state apparatus right now.

“We’ll figure it out by working to get there” is Mariame Kaba’s concise and honest response to inquiries as to what a postprison society will look like. It speaks to the power of the people, of selfdetermination and communal decision-making.

Through these values, we become more alive.

In the words of the great revolutionary Fred Hampton, “if you are afraid of socialism, you are afraid of yourself.”

In a similar vein, moving as an abolitionist requires a profound sense of trust in our communal creations. We cannot be afraid of moving with only tentative blueprints. We have to believe that our ideas and our experiments are valuable even when they fail.

Not only do we have to believe that a better world is out there, we have to believe that we can build that world right where we’re at.

Liv

What does PIC abolition mean to you?

To me it means destroying the violent systems we have and creating new visions of our world centered on community and growth. This picture I think reflects that destruction and rebirth.

Lauren Dotson

PIC abolition is quite personal to me as a survivor of domestic violence and as someone who grew up experiencing physical, emotional, and financial abuse. I joined this institute to learn more about how PIC abolition and organizing can liberate myself and my community, and my commitment to abolition came about as a result of the abuse and violence I encountered, especially once I was finally able to escape my abusive home. While I had warmed up to the idea of abolition over the past few years because of my social media feed, I only began to embrace the movement wholeheartedly after my family and I left our abuser, my father, last year. About two months prior to leaving my father, I read Angela Davis’ "Are Prisons Obsolete?".

However, it was only within the context of my own experiences, as someone who has suffered through abuse, that I began to contemplate whether the existence of prisons kept me safe. The existence of prisons certainly didn’t prevent my father’s abuse, nor will their existence protect my family now, an entire year after we’ve left him.

While prison abolitionists don’t seek a physical alternative to prisons, they do seek a different type of society. A society without prisons cannot be imagined or fathomed within the constraints of our current exploitative, capitalist system. It is one in which there is an emphasis on restorative justice and guaranteeing that people’s needs are met. In our current society where prisons are treated as a necessity, and where our communities are not accounted for, survivors of domestic violence/abuse like my family do not receive the resources, help, and healing they need. We treat prisons as if they are necessary like food, water, and shelter despite the fact that prisons haven’t always been around and that a society and life without them has existed and is still possible. Ironically, we treat prisons as if they are one of our basic physiological needs but don’t act in the same manner to ensure that everyone has free food, water, and housing, despite these things actually being necessary for our survival.

What would happen if, given the choice, I was able to incarcerate my father? Would I be healed from 18 years of trauma? Would I be able to financially provide for myself and my family? Would I have free and safe housing? But let’s forget about my own story for a moment — what about survivors of domestic violence who are forced to harm and, in desperate times, have even killed their abusers out of self-defense? A society with prisons chooses to incarcerate and criminalize desperate survivors, but does not provide them with the means to liberate themselves from their circumstances.

What about a society in which prisons don’t exist?

A prisonless society, where everyone’s needs are taken care of and systemic inequalities are addressed from the root, would have allowed my family to leave 25 years ago.

Tasfiya

What I've Taken Away From This As a young Asian-American growing up in one of the most politically and socially polarizing climates yet in history, I organize, educate and participate in movements and collectives so that I can keep learning.

For every opportunity that allows me to engage in something unexpected, meet new people or build upon my understanding of something old, I have the chance to do what I love best: learn.

Educate myself, and, by extension, have the opportunity to reach out to and educate others as well. Without being willing to learn, I don’t know if I’d ever be capable of engaging in the conversations I do, or making change in the way I envision. Over the course of a mere week and a half through AYO, NYC!, I’ve learned what it means to share a space with community members and engage in a topic I’ve never explored before on my own: abolitionist organizing.

Although community organizing is not a foreign concept to me, considering I’ve spent years trying to give back to my community in any way that I can, abolitionist organizing is an entirely new field that I have yet to dive into fully— beyond just the surface, at least.

What does abolition mean? To some it means freedom. To others, it means something they dedicate their entire lives to, working tirelessly in order to achieve for the betterment of others. For me, abolition is something I hope to engage in for the rest of my life with whatever resources and opportunities I’m given. I am always learning, always growing as a student, a person, an educator and a recipient of the education which others choose to share with me.

Going forward into the future, I hope my knowledge of abolition organizing continues to expand and grow.

I hope that one day I’m able to assume the position of an educator instead of a learner, to be the one teaching and mentoring others on their journey to become full-fledged abolitionists and participants in social justice.

Chris Chen

Monopoly Whiteness has a monopoly on...

Anger. It has been demonized and criminalized and racialized. The only correct anger is one of an officer who felt disrespected by a Black woman asking why she was being pulled over. Not the anger of child microaggressed by their teacher or previously incarcerated person persecuted by the state using false evidence. No. Whiteness has a monopoly on..

Fear. It has been demonized and criminalized and politicized. Only the fear of a white woman next to Black child in a closed elevator is permitted.

Not the fear of a queer child in a homophobic household or the fear of a Black man getting pulled over in Minneapolis. No. Whiteness has a monopoly on...

Violence. It has been demonized and criminalized but theirs has been memorialized. The savagery of the murder and displacement of millions of Native Americans; slavery and Jim Crow; imperialism and colonialism - those are all okay, but God forbid a group of people burn some sh** down in response to another state sanctioned killing or a group of prisoners protest the grotesque conditions they live in...no. that’s taking things to far.

Whiteness has a monopoly on...

Mistakes. They have been demonized and criminalized and racialized. Capitalism keeps people homeless and sick and hungry and policing has not reduced crime and white boys can get their mistakes covered up with father’s money. No such grace is given to new harm reduction programs or new educational curriculum or immigrants trying to get a visa.

We gotta end this monopoly whiteness has on.

J.L.S

Kayana J

Unfree

A thin veneer A wafer under the threat of a boot Life is sweet but fragile Young and agile i dodge things often But sometimes A miscalculated step can cause death Execution Ive seen the videos I know what can happen I havnt died So i guess i shouldn't dwell on the close calls But how cant i not too long ago…

That blue wall came crumbling down on me And i felt that kinda pressure.

That loss of freedom So instant and unmanagable Snatched up and held No knowing when or even if I'll make it out again.

Those kinds of details will depend on the moods of the folks who captured you.

Freedom depending desperately on the human trappings of the empathyless drones.

Me angry me no like niggers Me no get paid enough to work long hour Me no get promotion Me cant afford my family Me hit wife Me hate me self Me take out on black youth cuz me can Me think me get away with it

Trasonia

And maybe they're right? Maybe I'll slip through a crack and be gone in the blink of an eye.

But aye Fuck it i survived.

Im still here.

Back to living my life…

But nothing feels quite right.

Sometimes i feel the breath of 10 men on the back of my neck when im walking and have to stop to catch myself from falling into the pavement My back aches with their weight on me And every time i have to pee…

I remember that officers eyes on me, Beaming in satisfaction with the privilege to punish me For speaking up after having to wait an hour for the bathroom.

This nigger think SHE uppity The reality setting in i might have to be stuck in this place.

My freedom gone for the crime of being.

Maybe I'd never get free again Maybe…

Unfree

continued...

Then 30min later its Heres your shit get out Come to court in 2 months Heres a cropped version of your desk appearance ticket Youve been charged with the crime of resisting arrest No you cant have more information I have work in 2 hours Gonna have to work this shift without sleep I manage it Even with the persistent flash backs of fuckery of last nights past Try and put some distance between you and what happened But i can't manage it Even with hours, days, weeks, may be months may be years Maybe I can't shake them off me I cant break myself free And it pains me If i ever did question it Now i know I'm not free

Trasonia

Kintan Silvany

BENDING AN ABOLITIONIST WORLD INTO REALITY

Akash Singh

The Five Senses of Abolition I see you-sitting pretty with a degree, but still so angry about the redundancy of police brutality and the mirage of white solidarity hidden behind promises of diversity, inclusion, and equity.

I hear you-replaying that argument over and over again right before bed thinking that the government doesn’t care where you lay your head or if your community is nourished and well-fed.

I feel you-shaking with rage thinking about the human beings we constantly cage and their sentences to prisons and detentions from such an early age But, girl, I taste it too-the seed of hope you call abolition and later the fruit of hope you bear from your lips as it sweetens your passion, ripens your action, and sours your dissatisfaction.

I smell it-and I know you do too-the sweat, the concrete, and the fear that fills the air as we realize the work we have to do to construct a world anew.

Re’Nyqua Farrington

luminaries i was sitting under the sun admiring my friends with their pretty skin, pretty minds, and pretty souls. we will build a new world a free association of humans i was watching the the sunrise hoping my love would rise with it too hoping the shackles that bound us might leave us be i was watching the sunset feeling my dreams leave my body as the midday excitement disappeared from the horizon you are the moon’s child, my love you nurture me until the sun rises again letting me rest my head in your lap and tell you my worries and sorrows reminding me revolution will soon come i do this for you i read dead white men for you i dare to dream for a better future for you yvette fordjour

June 9th, 2070 For context, day 3 of the institute Mariame led us in a writing exercise.

The prompt was to write a letter to someone as if it were 2070 and all our organizing had resulted in major wins. Essentially she wanted us to write as if we were living in our abolitionist future. This letter is inspired by that prompt.

My Dearest Friend, I write this letter to you in my garden, well a garden that I have partial ownership of. I share it with my two friends, fer and autumn, you remember them, yea? I write this letter to you relaxed and loved and reflective. As I look at my hands moving across this paper and I feel the small aches in my legs and back as I sit on this rocking chair and feel the weight of all my lived experiences memorialized into neuronal patterns all stuffed into the small area of my hippocampus, I write this letter to you grateful that love has won; grateful that love is still winning.

I am “retiring”from my position at the hospital tomorrow. My time in medicine has been a whirlwind to say the least. It is beautiful to witness how happiness, how love, how living in a society that values all forms of life has physical manifestations.

I remember studying so many obscure diseases in high school for my pathophysiology tests. Half of those don’t afflict people anymore. Ethical, conscious consumption of food, the abolishment of exploitative labor, rest as a central value, fresher water, cleaner air, quality homes, familial and communal support, unhindered access to healthcare, mass education -all those things have transformed how our bodies develop and interact with disease.

It is simply remarkable. The amount of unlearning the doctors before me and even myself have had to do. There is no such thing as neurodivergent now, disease symptoms aren’t characterized by sex, there really is no universal normal. I have lived out my childhood dream in a way I could’ve never imagined. You know I always just wanted to help people, I always wanted to be a healer.

The liberation of all people, the dismantlement of whiteness and sex and gender; land back and reparations and real community building all allowed me to live part of my life doing just what I always wanted to do-healing physical wounds.

So friend, I write this letter to you very content, ready to die tomorrow or live another 40 years.

All my love and care, J.L.S.

LOVE LETTERS TO THE FUTURE

An Exercise in Afrofuturism The future will not exist if you cannot believe in it, but I know my people will continue to survive.

So, for the sake of creating a black future, Close your eyes. Imagine black babies Growing into black parents. And imagine them filling their homes with black love.

Imagine black joy — celebration of what we’ve overcome.

And imagine black rage — anticipation of what we must do.

Imagine black passion, unpoliced.

Imagine a future where Black personhood is recognized by all but mostly by each other.

When I imagine a black future, I imagine my family without scars, Anti-socialists communing under porch lights, And a return to our home.

Because where do we go from here but home?

I imagine a future where we have a home Or where fences, pigs, and barbed wire don’t define one for us.

I imagine a future with more options than: Leave your people or sit and hurt I imagine a future where black body’s are beautiful And black is as black is.

Afrofuturism means black art is owned by black artists; And black scientists have access to the world?

Afrofuturism means black is the universe; Afrofuturism means black ain’t the present, But the future.

So, I imagine a future where black is love, A future where black babies hold onto their smiles, Where we persist in black love Because that means a diasporic future is possible.

Zenith Jarrett

Urgent Patience Is everything okay?

I don't know about everything but I do know that when the sun comes up in the morning and I look through the window, when the neighborhood is quiet with contemplation, something feels okay, something feels good-like there are better things waiting and the rest of me is one of them.

The rest of me might be patiently waiting to find me too, to appear like the soft surrendering sunlight I try to hold in my hands when I stretch the sleep away.

I am no longer a metaphor or just an analogy for becoming.

I am an ever changing being.

Urgency, like the light, flickers in and out, sharing energy with sheets of patience that seem to interfere with what is electric, melting and piling onto driveways and tongues, being shoveled, walked, driven around, looked down upon, kicked about, and staying anyway.

Urgent patience exists-I know this because it is what keeps my wishes alive.

The rest of the people I have yet to meet and to love might be patiently waiting for us to tend to something together, to change even more than what is within ourselves.

They could be patiently waiting to find me, materialize, and hang in there together.

Stars, grand in groups as we wonder what the night was and what the morning could become.

Prisca

From a Petal to a Flower The following isn’t a stereotypical piece of literature that fits the cheesy ideas of what a flower is.

When people use phrases like “you are as beautiful as a flower”, there is truth to that, but I think we tend to overlook the meaning of what a flower is.

A flower has petals, petals that aid in the vivid color, attraction to pollination, and life of the flower.

Like a petal, you are a distinguished part of the world’s structure.

With that being said, abolition is a flower and we are the petals.

Abolition can be anything, is anything, that aids in the bright colors of the world we make up.

Abolition is love and growth.

The love and growth that aids in the functions of an ideal free world.

Abolition is resistance and power.

The resistance and power we use to hold institutional systems of oppression accountable.

Abolition is hope and organizing.

The hope we find in the goodness of humanity and the organizing we create for safety from a divided world.

Without you, there is no flower, no vivid colors, or blooming flower.

Abolition is that essential part of societal structures that we need for the world to bloom.

Abolition is a flower.

Flowers cannot live without their petals, sun, or water.

Abolition cannot succeed without you, your mind, and energy.

Sincerely, A Fellow Abolitionist and Flower

Hedaia

Dear person reading this; Great job! You made one of the greatest decisions you’ll ever make choosing to join the institute.

You were meant to be here. The world needs you here. The future needs you here. Even the present needs you here. This institute, first of foremost, will create one of the safest spaces that you’ll ever have. The dictionary definition of love and all around respect is all here. You’ll meet people you never thought you could, but were exactly what you needed.

You’ll be taught by the most genuine adults in the world. Everyone is so passionate about changing the system, you can never think to doubt their efforts. You’ll learn effective ways of thinking and realize even the smallest parts of the system affect you completely. You’ll finally gain the tools to see the world for what it really is. By the end of the institute, you’ll come to a conclusion about your purpose that you’ve never had before. You’ll continue to live your life after the institute understanding the very least you can do is be aware. Aware of the actions of cops. Aware of the policies being passed. Aware of who is being elected. Aware of who you see on the streets. Aware of who really cares. You cannot leave the institute not really caring.

This institute will open your heart, and unlock some feelings living in this cruel society could never let free.

Be excited to learn real love soon.

Love, Safiya

Akash Singh

We believe in honoring the labor of all who have come before us - and

AYO, NYC! Padlet

all those who are beside us as comrades.

Scan this code or go to bit.ly/2021AYONYCpadlet to see all the amazing resources, graphic notes, and more from our 2021 summer institute.

We hope this resource will continue to raise up generations of abolitionists.

About AYO,NYC! The Abolitionist Youth Organizing Institute (AYO, NYC!) is an immersive training experience created by Project NIA for young people ages 16 to 24 who are interested in and/or are already working towards social justice. The training introduces participants to the concepts of organizing, campaign development, direct action, mutual aid, creative resistance, prison industrial complex (PIC) abolition and transformative/healing justice.

The institute covers the basics of organizing from an abolitionist framework, with the goal of helping participants find/define & sustain their role within movements for social justice and change.

AYO, NYC!