Vessel

It is difficult to write about my experience in Arizona. Not about reporting what factually happened, but how I feel about it. I was arrested blocking an intersection in an attempt to block Joe Arpaio’s illegal and racist immigration raids by blocking the vans. I was in jail for 26 hours, humiliated and frightened in an overcrowded jail cell with no place to sit or sleep. There were no clocks, lunches, or a chances to change clothes. It was terrible in these aspects, but great in others. I witnessed courageous ministers advocating for prisoners and people bonding in adversity. My former roommate at Midwest Leadership School and fellow seminarian, Leslie Mills, kept everyone’s spirits up with beautiful songs and the hokey pokey.

I, on the other hand, felt it important to remind everyone that the jail deputies were human too - callous as they were handling us. Many asked if I was ok. I said I had a headache. Truthfully, I was angry at myself. I couldn’t sit for long because my jeans had been damp from an unsuccessful bathroom break with handcuffs on. One of the cells had air, most did not. Phones worked at random times and were collect dialing only.

Mostly I felt defeated and stupid. My brother spent 8 days in Sheriff Joe’s jail. Stephen deserved it, for skipping court appearances on the subject of him driving without a license or insurance. Before I left I called him and asked him what jail was like.  He spoke of a Sheriff who like to roam the lanes of Tent City with linebacker deputies armed with guns full of rubber bullets, ready to pick a fight. Of postcards being the only way to send mail, with pictures of things like “Arizona state law requires that the humane society air condition its animals, but not its prisoners. Prisoners are lower than dogs.” Of overcrowding,  of how he slept on the mess hall floor for 8 days in pink underwear and striped clothing. He told me I’d hate it, and that it would be dumb to be arrested on purpose.

There was a point in jail where they lost my papers. The rest of the female protestors arrested at the intersection of first and washington, where I had been arrested, had moved on in the process. (There were also protestors at the jail who were processed later.) I was alone in a jail cell for a few hours with no other prisoners. When I asked the deputies about why I was alone, they told me to shut up. I did. I kept thinking about how getting arrested was probably the dumbest thing I’ve done. 

I didn’t know that my husband and everyone I knew on Facebook were posting pictures of my arrest and well-wishes. I didn’t know that people were calling my husband all night. I didn’t know that people on twitter were talking about it, making theme songs and saying things like ‘FREE SHAWNA FOSTER!’ or that they’d called the jail to ask where I was and why I was still in jail. I didn’t know that our ally organizations, Puente in particular, were updating my family as often as they could. I didn’t know that Unitarian Universalists and allies in Arizona were holding vigil outside of the jail cell for us. Foolishly, I thought I was alone and would be forgotten.

It wasn’t until Susan Fredrick-Gray, minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Phoenix, came with the jail protestors did I do anything about my papers being lost, at her behest. 

The jail protestors had court at 11pm and let go around 2:30 am. My group of protestors had to wait for court at 10 am the next day. Before the jail protestors were released Joe Arpaio came down to speak to us. We sang ‘We Shall Overcome’ and told the guard we had nothing to say to him. In another cell, an arrested Latina Unitarian Universalist protestor, Mar Cardenas, told Sheriff Joe that she loved him. He was taken aback, I heard. 

The closer to our court time the higher our spirits rose. We held an informal service of singing and sharing. I learned so much from everyone - protestors I had never met and prisoners who had been in jail many times. I believe that if I had not gotten arrested I would never understand the depth of racism and immigration and abuse of power going on in Arizona. To be honest, I still don’t, because I am white. I am not an immigrant. I have a family who was willing to get bail money wired to me, an entire online community cheering me on, and the whole congregation clapping for me when I got back. Many hispanics do not. Many are deported or arrested in the middle of the night for no reason other than the color of their skin and are not heard from again. Many die in the desert for lack of water. Many families are torn apart. 

I am proud to have been arrested there. My only wish is that in the darkest hour I was more … I don’t know. Courageous or spiritual or ministerial or something other than frightened and angry.  More like the other ministers who were in jail, or more like Audrey who was left alone in a cell overnight because of her limited mobility. 

I do know that if Susan Fredrick-Gray or Peter Morales or Standing on the Side of Love put out the call again to participate, to bear witness, and to stand in solidarity with those who are being persecuted that I will be there. I will get arrested again, and every day, in any horrible jail, as many times as needed. Until justice rolls down like waters, and people in power use that power justly, I will be there, on the Side of Love. 
 
(This article is for my church newsletter, where I was asked to reflect on it more personally. My church is the First Unitarian Church of Omaha: www.firstuuomaha.org)