Pubdate: Wed, 26 Nov 2008
Source: AlterNet (US Web)
Copyright: 2008 Independent Media Institute
Website: http://www.alternet.org/
Author: Hamedah Hasan, The Women's Media Center
Note: Perversion of Justice is an award-winning 30 minute film about 
Hamedah. A short version of it can be viewed online here. 
http://www.mediathatmattersfest.org/8/perversion_of_justice/

27 YEARS IN PRISON FOR A NONVIOLENT OFFENSE

Hamedah Hasan Tells Her Story

Whoa! Talking about sleeping in the bed you made. Imagine trying to 
turn over and your bedding is so tight you can't move. Your mind is 
heavily sedated with a strong dose of sleep. You try turning to your 
right side from your left. You lay there fighting between sleep and 
fixing your bedding. Your bed is pure 100 percent concrete with 
blankets of steel. No kiss good night, no bedtime story. You have 
just been tucked in by Uncle Sam. I am one in thousands of American 
POWs. I know I'm not the kind you think of first when you hear those 
words. I'm a prisoner of America's Drug War, currently serving a 
27-year federal prison sentence based on laws established in the late 
80s. In 1991, at age 24, I was indicted, arrested and subsequently 
convicted, and sentenced -- initially to natural life -- for cocaine 
and crack cocaine related offenses. While I am responsible for my own 
criminal behavior, being a first time, non-violent offender makes my 
sentence of decades in prison impossible to accept quietly.

This experience has taught me that not one choice, action, or lack 
thereof is without consequence. This includes making laws without a 
sense of redemption -- that diminish the worth of human lives and 
attack the very foundation of the family unit. Struggling to help 
raise my three daughters and instill in them useful bits of wisdom 
has by far been my greatest challenge. I have often wondered at the 
end of a 15-minute phone call, sometimes split three ways: Did she 
get it? Will she learn from my mistakes? Am I giving her enough? No 
matter the answers, I knew I must continue to do my best.

My daughters and I have experienced many obstacles along the way. 
Prison is the type of situation that magnifies things on the outside. 
No matter how "bad" something actually is, not being there makes it 
worse. Learning my daughter was pregnant at age 14 was definitely a 
moment I seriously questioned my effectiveness as a parent. I felt as 
though I let her down. Having been a teenage mom enabled me to 
eventually put my daughter's needs and those of her unborn child in 
perspective. Unconditional love, communication, guidance and support 
were of far greater value than anything else.

Despite the limits to which our bond has been tested, I feel very 
blessed to share such a loving relationship with my daughters. I 
believe communicating frequently and openly about things that affect 
us individually and collectively has helped keep us close across the 
many miles. The most significant lesson my daughters have taught me 
is that whatever I pass along to them, they are still going to have 
their own experiences. So when I give them space and watch them like 
a mom with her tot learning to walk, I celebrate their courage, 
intelligence and resilience.

I did not walk into prison with a plan for how I was going to survive 
the next week, much less how I was going maintain the family bond. 
Among other things, I had been labeled angry, defiant, militant and 
poorly educated. I felt those labels were somehow meant to diminish 
my self-worth and justify my sentences; a notion I readily rejected. 
I remember reading a quote: "it's not what people call you, but what 
you answer to." I used that as motivation to do the best I could 
despite my situation. I began by building upon the commitment I made 
to God, learning what that meant, and trying to maintain a sense of 
balance. Throughout the years I've tried to fill my "basket" with as 
many skills as possible.

My case has been the subject of several newspaper and magazine 
articles. Reading some of those articles taught me not everyone 
interested in my "story" has my best interest in mind. So in 2000 
when first approached by Melissa Mummert about being the subject in a 
film on women in prison I was a bit hesitant. Also, I didn't know if 
my daughters were okay with that type of exposure. After discussing 
it with my family, praying and getting a better understanding of 
Melissa's vision, I took her up on her offer. As I have gotten to 
know Melissa over the years, the thoroughness, dignity and respect in 
which she told my family's story came as no surprise.

To share my mistakes and humiliations with strangers, as I knew 
participating in Perversion of Justice would do, I felt very 
vulnerable. The fact that I learned from those mistakes enabled me to 
realize the importance of sharing my journey regardless. There are 
thousands of federal prisoners that are in similar situations, many 
whom have no voice. Whether Perversion of Justice has a direct impact 
on my release is an expectation I refuse to put upon my dear friend 
and filmmaker. Sometimes amidst our best-laid plans and greatest 
efforts, God has something different in store. Perversion of Justice 
has already educated masses beyond "the walls," served as a tangible 
reminder of injustice to policy makers and given a voice and hope for 
change to the thousands of America's drug war prisoners. An 
extraordinary accomplishment.

The U.S. Sentencing Commission recently passed and made retroactive 
an amendment to the sentencing guideline for crack cocaine offenses. 
Currently I have a motion pending before the district court seeking 
relief. The original judge had to recuse himself since he had already 
ruled that my sentence should be shorter. Consequently my case was 
re-assigned to another judge. In the still of the night, lying in 
this warehouse-style dormitory, I wonder if I'll serve the remaining 
eight years of my sentence. The knowledge of that lies with God. My 
family, friends and I remain hopeful for the extended hand of mercy.
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