Words as Resistance: Dismantling Systems of Oppression through Writing
By Keziah Poole
As a teacher-scholar of resistance literature and Director of The Readers’ Circle, a peer-editing program that connects college students with incarcerated writers, I am often met with skeptics (my students included!) who wonder what it is, exactly, that I do – and why I do it. Even for those convinced, as I am, that we have a mutual responsibility to engage in the fight against societal injustice, it can be hard to see how the simple acts of reading and writing, in certain contexts, can effect real change – even a revolution.
It is true that the word is just one tool in the dismantling of systems of oppression, but historically it has proven an immensely powerful one. What is more, very often it is the first or only tool available to those experiencing injustice. The stories we tell, and the stories that people tell about us, shape the way we see the world and are seen by others. These “visions” inform the material conditions that we live in. Who gets to tell their story (and be heard telling it) is therefore every bit as much a question of power and politics as who gets to walk freely, in dignity and safety.
So what does it mean, in the context of the U.S. prison system, to harness the word in the fight against injustice? The suppression of incarcerated voices is well noted, spanning from the detainment and exile of political dissidents to the surveillance and control of reading and writing materials that move in and out of carceral facilities. And yet, prisons today are filled with authors and activists who continue to write and break down barriers with their writing. At The Readers’ Circle, we receive everything – from screenplays, poetry, and science fiction trilogies to memoirs, self-help manuals, and academic research; every text an act of creative defiance in the face of systematic silencing. For some, writing is an escape, a release, a catharsis; an educational or advocacy tool; for others it is a simple gesture of communication, a way to talk to someone and be heard. For all those writing from a prison cell it is an inordinate challenge, a testament to their perseverance and to the human necessity of self-expression through language.
Resistance, in this context, begins with a simple effort to overcome the limitations on communication that create an environment of de facto censorship in U.S. prisons – re-familiarizing ourselves with the postal system in order to receive and return texts handwritten on paper (a system many of our student staff, born in the digital age, have rarely had to deal with); creating a account with a different prison emailing system for every jurisdiction and loading it up with “stamps” to receive typed manuscripts (a few hundred characters at a time, with no formatting); following up when correspondence invariably goes “missing” (either lost or withheld for reasons that are not always clear to the sender). It continues in the act of scanning and typing texts of all genres so that they can reach our pool of nearly 700 volunteer readers, and be allocated for the author’s requested services (proofreading, copy-editing or friendly feedback). Resistance here becomes a matter of sharing the resources – both technological and educational – afforded to us as students and faculty within the elite realm of the university, and welcoming the voices of those who have been traditionally excluded into the academic community.
At The Readers’ Circle, we do not aim to speak for the writers that we work with, nor to tell them how they should express themselves through writing. We do not correct the work we receive – we collaborate on it. Resistance here is letting incarcerated authors know that we are here and we are listening. It is rejecting the myth of “good” or “proper” writing that has been instilled in all of us through formal education, and instead opening ourselves up to the creative possibilities of a language which does not conform. While accepted writing may be about being able to emulate the “greats”, as defined by the (predominantly white, male, wealthy, Western) institution, effective writing is knowing how to harness the word in service of your voice and your community. Resistance here is ensuring that everyone has access to the tools that make one’s writing legible to those with power, while remembering – as the poet Audre Lorde so famously asserted – that when using the master’s tools, the master’s house can never truly be dismantled.
Finally, resistance here is about forging community beyond walls, creating a conversation between writers and advocates inside and out the U.S. prison system – so that those deprived of a platform can better speak to their experiences, and those of us privileged enough to already have one can learn to wield it in the service of others. We each become better readers and better writers through this process; revolutionary ones. We learn to identify the gaps in our education and in our media, and seek out the truth behind each silence. We learn to look for the stories that we have never been told so we can start working together to build a new narrative.
This is how the word is used to dismantle systems of oppression. Just one tool, yes, but one that has the power to change the world we live in. We read, we write, we resist.
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