Dear Comrades: Introduction
Dear Comrades,
I’ve been in jail almost 16 years now. Been through the ups, still find myself navigating the downs, and even with about a year and half until my release, I still sometimes have no idea whether I’m coming or going. The days are still long, and prison has been nothing short of the scariest, most harrowing and life-changing ride that I believe a person could ever step foot in, especially when you’ve been here this long. I don’t believe that doing 16 years in here could ever not play tricks on you psychologically, and so I constantly find myself up to my neck in daily paradoxes, trying to navigate who I was with who I am becoming.
In the streets I was borderline terrible. No job. No real outlook on life. Just in the mix 24/7, thinking that I could figure out life on a street corner. I wasn’t able to fathom the potential that I had because I was so used to being around other individuals whose lights hadn’t turned on for them yet either. I was so in the dark that I didn’t even realize that just because I could see didn’t mean I wasn’t blind. I was of a different ilk. Built like those that are built: hard and persevering, with a whole lot of ingenuity and a little too much candor. In the streets those qualities got me in a whole lot of trouble, but as I’ve come to learn can often translate well to the legal life. The problem was and still is, fostering those qualities into ones usable for my return to the community would never be a linear process and would be highly hampered by the same institution allegedly designed to rehabilitate me.
I started changing my life for real about five years into my bid, after I started taking the Cornell prison college program in Auburn Correctional Facility. It was there that not only was I able to learn that many of the decisions I made that led me to prison were influenced by my environment and the limited opportunities available to me, but I also met my wife Emily, who helped shape that perspective into form. The knowledge that I would get from those sources really helped serve as the foundation for me to build a whole different perspective: one built on fighting oppression by making those environments work for the oppressed instead of against us, and so there is where the journey truly began.
About eight years ago, Emily and I had this idea to start Unchained. We have this extremely ambitious goal of taking on the criminal legal system and ultimately dismantling the prison system as a whole. We thought it would be this fantastic journey of fighting injustice and empowering the oppressed to overcome our oppression together, almost like throwing capes on and turning into real life superheroes. We have definitely fought major battles and facilitated heroic outcomes - things that I would never trade for money, freedom, or time. However, eight years later, I have to admit, being an incarcerated freedom fighter has taken some kind of toll on me.
When we started Unchained, I never imagined that my role as incarcerated Executive Director would bring me so much attention, so much scrutiny, so much pain. I’ve been the target of so much Correction Officer (CO) animosity that my name seems to sour in the mouth of any CO who speaks it. I’ve been assaulted by these officers, set up, antagonized, lied on, and made out to be things I could never be, including the relative of New York State Senator Julia Salazar. These COs even go home and talk about me on Facebook. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll follow me when I go home.
Now, after all I’ve been through, I find myself desperately trying to measure the relative value of my martyrdom. In the coming weeks, I’ll be dropping short Dear Comrade letters filling you in on the ways I’ve been targeted over the past several years and keeping you posted on my current journey as I approach my release in the fall of 2027. Please join me, get to know me, and give me your feedback. You can send messages to derek@weareunchained.org, and our team will make sure your notes get to me. Your thoughts matter.