People hold signs calling for the release of Chelsea Manning during a gay pride parade in San Francisco in 2015. (photo: Elijah Nouvelage/Reuters)
To
Those Who Kept Me Alive All These Years, Thank You
By Chelsea Manning, Guardian
UK
18 February 17
When I was afraid, you taught me how to keep going. When I was
lost, you showed me the way
To
those who have kept me alive for the past six years: minutes after President
Obama announced the commutation of my sentence, the prison quickly moved me out
of general population and into the restrictive housing unit where
I am now held. I know that we are now physically separated, but we will never
be apart and we are not alone. Recently, one of you asked me “Will you remember
me?” I will remember you. How could I possibly forget? You taught me lessons I
would have never learned otherwise.
When I
was afraid, you taught me how to keep going. When I was lost, you showed me the
way. When I was numb, you taught me how to feel. When I was angry, you taught
me how to chill out. When I was hateful, you taught me how to be compassionate.
When I was distant, you taught me how to be close. When I was selfish, you taught
me how to share.
Sometimes,
it took me a while to learn many things. Other times, I would forget, and you
would remind me.
We
were friends in a way few will ever understand. There was no room to be
superficial. Instead, we bared it all. We could hide from our families and from
the world outside, but we could never hide from each other.
We
argued, we bickered and we fought with each other. Sometimes, over absolutely
nothing. But, we were always a family. We were always united.
When
the prison tried to break one of us, we all stood up. We looked out for each
other. When they tried to divide us, and systematically discriminated against
us, we embraced our diversity and pushed back. But, I also learned from all of
you when to pick my battles. I grew up and grew connected because of the
community you provided.
Those
outside of prison may not believe that we act like human beings under these
conditions. But of course we do. And we build our own networks of survival.
I
never would have made it without you. Not only did you teach me these important
lessons, but you made sure I felt cared for. You were the people who helped me
to deal with the trauma of my regular haircuts. You were the people who checked
on me after I tried to end my life. You
were the people that played fun games with me. Who wished me a Happy Birthday.
We shared the holidays together. You were and will always be family.
For
many of you, you are already free and living outside of the prison walls. Many
of you will come home soon. Some of you still have many years to go.
The
most important thing that you taught me was how to write and how to speak in my
own voice. I used to only know how to write memos. Now, I write like a human
being, with dreams, desires and connections. I could not have done it without
you.
From
where I am now, I still think of all of you. When I leave this place in May, I
will still think of all of you. And to anyone who finds themselves feeling
alone behind bars, know that there is a network of us who are thinking of you.
You will never be forgotten.
C 2015 Reader Supported News
Donations can be sent
to the Baltimore Nonviolence Center, 325 E. 25th St., Baltimore, MD
21218. Ph: 410-323-1607; Email: mobuszewski [at] verizon.net. Go to http://baltimorenonviolencecenter.blogspot.com/
"The master class
has always declared the wars; the subject class has always fought the battles.
The master class has had all to gain and nothing to lose, while the subject
class has had nothing to gain and everything to lose--especially their
lives." Eugene Victor Debs
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