Inside Brooklyn's jail support for arrested protesters

On June 4th at 7:00 pm, volunteers gathered at the corner of Oliver Street and Park Row to take the curfew shift⁠ — 8:00 pm to 5:00 am⁠ — of One Police Plaza's jail support for arrested protesters. People stopped by to replenish tables crowded with fruit, granola bars, hot meals, bottled water, and medical supplies. As the sun set on empty streets, two medics in scrubs, a lawyer, and volunteers tasked with directing protesters to medical attention, legal aid, hand sanitizer, and food sat on coolers beneath umbrellas in the pouring rain. Organizers set up tents for designated rest areas and cardboard signs requesting consistent mask usage.

Earlier that day, news outlets announced that the New York Police Department had arrested over 2,000 people during the protests.

"The idea is that the action isn't over until everybody who has been arrested is out of jail," a jail support volunteer said. She explained that she had been taught, by other volunteers, that their role was to continue the work of demonstrators by de-escalating anger and establishing a place where shaken arrestees could seek free medical or legal attention in peace.

"[The police] have guns, and we have apples," said another volunteer who has been dedicating most of his nights to jail support since the protests began more than a week ago.

The past 10 days have resulted in many sleepless nights for organizers like YahNé Ndgo, a member of Black Lives Matter Philly, and the Outreach Coordinator for the Black Alliance for Peace.

"It's been really important to Black Lives Matter to respect, honor and not erase, or duplicate, work that's already being done," said Ndgo. She explained how different chapters focus on varying forms of work: One group may focus on police brutality; another might focus on bail support for those who cannot leave jail for financial reasons.

Ndgo described the many forms of need: jail support, bail support, and political action, among others. As protests have spread nationwide and globally, the many chapters have moved to focus on an end to police brutality in the United States, understanding that anti-black racism is at the center of this issue. Jail support continues this sentiment.

Thursday night and Saturday morning's shifts consisted of many white volunteers. Organizers worked to ensure that the space focused on supporting the work of the protests by orienting new volunteers with community guidelines. The first was that the space is black and indigenous people-centered. A volunteer said that she wanted to amplify the voices of those who are the most vulnerable in the United States because of a history of systemic oppression.

The increase in the prison population is due to several policy shifts, including the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986, which fortified mandatory minimum sentencing. The prison population jumped from 329,000 at the start of Ronald Reagan's term in 1980 to 627,000 when he left office in 1988, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. Bill Clinton then signed the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994. It included a three-strikes section that sentenced mandatory life imprisonment without the possibility of parole for people convicted of federal offenses who have three convictions for violent felonies or drug trafficking crimes. The tough-on-crime era saw harsher sentencing and punitive prosecution in all arrests – not only for drug offenses.

These policy changes meant harsher sentences that disproportionately affected black people: the United States Department of Justice report says that the rate for incarcerated black men was six times that of incarcerated white men at the end of 2017.

And arrests, even when short-lived, have a lasting impact.

"People who are in jail waiting for their court case because they can't afford bail can lose their job, their home," said Ndgo. "There's so much loss that comes. So when they leave, their life is dismantled and turned upside-down.”

Jail support works to fill similar needs for people who may have had their lives upended. Thursday night volunteers said that they hope to help the black people who are protesting for their rights and targeted by police.

"It's important to note that we're not necessarily activists," said Sepehr Makaremi, one of Thursday night's jail support point people. "We're supporting activists and helping with a service to support the people who are fighting for their rights."

George Floyd's death is a part of a long history of police brutality toward black people in the United States. Cardboard signs at a May 30th protest in Brooklyn, New York urged onlookers to please remember the names of black people killed by police: Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Philando Castile, among many others. Activists participating in protests said that the reminder centers the humanity of the people, and the injustice of their untimely deaths, instead of focusing on the horror of their deaths. Protesters chanted: "We are George," calling to a collective experience of anti-black racism that has been ignored by white people and people of color who are not black.

At 5:00 am on Friday, as the sun rose again on the corner of Oliver Street and Park Row, volunteers checked in on encrypted chat groups: notifying other locations about the number of releases, the help that was needed, and when new medics were arriving.

"We need saline," said one volunteer in the chat.

"For eyes or for wounds?” asked a medic.

The volunteer responded simply: “Yup.”

People groggy from a lack of sleep, clothes wet from the rain, offered rides to fellow volunteers and newly released protesters. They gathered in small groups on the still-empty streets, introducing themselves to those who would be taking the 5:00 am relief shift, continuing the work for as long as necessary.