Sunday, April 25, 2010

Race and the law in the age of Stevens & Sotomayer

For the members of William Mitchell’s Law Raza Journal Editorial Board, the appointment of Puerto Rican judge Sonia Sotomayor’s nomination and ascension to the Supreme Court, along with the subsequent news that Justice Stevens is retiring and will be replaced forthwith, are key indicators that affirm the need for this journal.

The significance and the symbolism of the Sotomayor appointment are profound; the first African American president conferring the mantle of Supreme Court Justice on the first Latina to hold such a position represented a formal and critical acknowledgment that public life in the United States is no longer merely black and white. Yet we also recognize and emphasize emphatically that Justice Sotomayor’s appointment to this nation’s highest bench is not merely a token action, a nod to the increasing diversity of this nation.

Indeed, even the most casual observer of Justice Sotomayor’s confirmation hearings can confirm the fact that the very nomination of Sotomayor raised urgent questions about Latinos’ participation in public life, in decision-making, in shaping public policy. And her confirmation did not resolve these questions; it merely admitted her to a bench of influencers to engage these questions on an ongoing basis through the formal discourse of the Supreme Court.

Law Raza fills a gap in the existing canon of scholarly legal journals is because to date, few journals have incorporated the voices of Latino scholars and other academics of color. Furthermore, they have largely failed to reach out actively to quite literally cross borders. Journals published in the United States are generally preoccupied only with what is happening here, overlooking the ways in which legal issues in neighboring countries intersect with and influence our own and vice versa. To that end, you can expect to see Law Raza’s editorial board inviting participation from legal scholars both here in the United States and in the “other” America.

Law Raza is a welcome and critical addition to the range of legal journals currently published is because the United States, both it’s government and it’s citizens, are growing ever-more aware that we, the “neighbors to the North,” know disturbingly little about our neighbors to the South.

Law Raza, then, is an academic, intellectual taking up of arms. The articles you can expect to see in the pages of this virtual journal are inarguably scholarly, but they are also unapologetic in their insistence that the supposed objectivity with which legal issues tend to be treated in journals is just that: supposed, more aspirational fantasy than real-life possibility.

The editorial board demands that the critical issues that affect our communities be engaged critically. What this means, with respect to the content of Law Raza, is that a representative sample of articles we publish will be conveyed by a first-person narrator who is the author, working through legal issues and dilemmas in which first-hand experience and knowledge produce both nagging questions and the need to find answers by engaging an issue critically in a public forum where the audience—namely, you, the readers—can shape the narrative and its resolution.

The contributors to Law Raza are diverse, but they share the desire to take their own experiences, both personal and professional, and to hold them up to the light, turning them over and over, examining them to determine what, exactly, they are seeing, and how their observations can be useful and relevant to others. You, readers, are a vital part of the meaning-making process, and we invite you to engage critically in dialogue with us.

The Law Raza editorial board invites you, your identity and your voice to participate alongside ours. We look forward to engaging in discussion from across the legal spectrum—and from across geographical borders and other boundaries of identity, to contribute scholarly articles that advance our collective understanding of the historical and contemporary legal concerns that affect us all. Legal issues of special interest to Latinos are our focus, but the journal is not dedicated exclusively to these experiences. The editorial board recognizes that most issues of importance to any society are systemic and are far-reaching; the purview of the journal reflects such dynamics.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Incarcerated Motherhood: “Precious” in real life

(The information in this blog has been modified to protect my client and to comply with the Minnesota Rules of Professional Responsibility.)

When I launched my blog a year ago today I wrote, “My goal is to provide legal assistance to disenfranchised women and their families. This will benefit women who are leaving prison, and their children; it will also benefit me, the law student, who is learning how to advocate for them. Women who have been incarcerated need advocates and I know what it’s like to advocate for someone who doesn’t have a voice. My experience as a parent, an academic, and as a law student will help me to bring these women’s stories to a wider audience. The stories of these mothers have the potential to inspire law schools across the nation to open clinics similar to the one that I will participate in. Just as you have listened to my story, I can listen to their stories, and let you hear their voices. God gave Noah the Rainbow sign, my name is Duch, I’m ready this time.”

I thought I was ready, but I don’t know if anyone is ready for the work I’ve done this year. Films like “Precious” present the stories of the poor and there is almost always transformation, realization, redemption, accompanied by moving theme music. Lives are changed in the span of two hours, usually through the intervention of a teacher, a social worker, one person who believes they can make a difference. I wanted to be that person. But reality is a much grimmer affair. There’s no easy solution for the crushing blows that come with poverty – drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, ignorance and mental illness. Not even Oprah, with all her billions, can wave a magic wand and fix it.

Here are just a few of the daunting statistics about women in prison:
  • 57% have a history of physical or sexual abuse.
  • 63% are non-white or minorities
  • 64% have not finished high school
  • 74% used drugs regularly before their incarceration
  • Most women in prison are incarcerated for non-violent crimes. Women frequently engage in criminal activities with their romantic partners.

In the fall I met “Star,” a 44-year-old Black woman incarcerated at the Minnesota Correctional Facility-Shakopee who could check all of the above. Her older sister’s husband molested “Star” when she was 13. She had a baby when she was 19, another child at 21, married that child’s father, and then had her third child at 28. Her husband used to beat her and she had a restraining order against him. He eventually crossed state lines and committed several bank robberies, and is incarcerated in a penitentiary in Virginia. She shared that this was a huge relief, because he was violent and HIV positive. Her incarceration was for aiding and abetting her husband.

She arrived at Shakopee in December 2006. At the time, her youngest child was 12. She sent her daughter to live with the same brother-in law that molested her. Her daughter was molested and eventually removed from their home. He was not prosecuted. Star was set to be released four days before Christmas, and at that point she’d regain custody of her 9th grade daughter who hadn’t seen her in three years. There would be much work to do, to break the cycle of violence and poverty.

But that’s where I came in. As a certified student attorney from William Mitchell College of Law, Star asked me to help her obtain a “dissolution of marriage” from her husband, who would not be eligible for parole until 2033. That was my legal assignment. When she was released, I was also responsible for helping her re-unite with her daughter, obtain housing, and employment. She had a history of drug abuse and claimed to have been clean for four years. But that didn’t add up, because she also admitted that she missed her mother’s 2006 funeral because she was strung out. I was to help Star with rehab as well.

She was the poor, drug addict and sexual abuse survivor. I was the privileged professor/law student who was there to make the difference, to, help her turn her life around. There was no theme music. There was no happy ending.

I worked on Star’s divorce from September to December. I went to visit her a week before her release and assured her that I do everything in my power to help her “re-enter” society. When I called after the holiday to tell her that the divorce papers were drafted, I discovered that she and her daughter had left the state to return to her sister’s home, to live with her and the brother in law that had molested Star, and Star’s daughter.

In real life, it isn’t precious.