This Is Freedom

“Lebanon is seen as quite progressive. But on the books, you still have laws that can put you in prison for three years for insulting the army,” said Bassam Khawaja of Human Rights Watch in 2018. Meet Lebanese comedian Hicham Haddad, whose satirical performances have included dancing on stage in black-and-white prisoner garb. Sometimes comedy is deadly serious, and today we salute Haddad and other creatives who have had the guts — and gusto — publicly to question oppression.

Nigeria is a country of more than 200 million people in which Islam, Christianity and indigenous African religions are all practiced, and religious studies are a cornerstone of the national curriculum and social discourse. Muscling into the same territory, social media and online platforms have been embraced by many Nigerians — especially young people — as vehicles for challenging views they’ve been taught to accept as truth. Wale Adetula was on the forefront of this movement when he launched a blogging platform called The Naked Convos in 2011.

A global movement of intellectuals who believe social justice discourse has broken with science and rationality is trying to carve out a political space between the left and the right with the so-called “intellectual dark web.” This school of thought includes a collection of mostly left-leaning professors, pundits and thinkers united in their criticism of the modern social justice movement as authoritarian and illogical. They have imagined an alternative — and have sought to make it a reality.

Haidar is a leading voice of resistance to Moroccan repression in the territory of Western Sahara, regarded as Africa’s final colony. To Sahrawis, the formerly nomadic peoples native to the region, Haidar is the “Gandhi of Western Sahara,” a tireless advocate for peaceful resistance who brings international attention to their much-forgotten plight.

Sima Samar was the leading candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2009 until President Barack Obama emerged as the winner. An Afghan doctor and human rights activist, Samar is a fierce advocate for Afghanistan’s women and girls, and her work was, and continues to be, worthy of a Nobel Prize.

This educator-turned-mediator Hamsatu Allamin looks anything but imposing. However, she cracks hard ground digging for peace. How can a woman safely speak to a sect like Boko Haram that keeps women silent and slaughters them for not wearing veils? Yet somehow Allamin helped organize the global “Bring Back Our Girls” campaign after Boko Haram abducted more than 200 schoolgirls in 2014.

The longstanding ban on women driving in Saudi Arabia was lifted in June 2019, meaning women no longer had to rely on men for transport. According to Sahar Hasan Nasif, when she and other Saudi women drive, they can follow their innate sense of adventure and become better for it. This goes beyond taking the keys, says Nasif; freedom of movement is about broadening your perspective.

Huddled together in rickety boats, adults and children alike fear for their lives as they embark on perilous journeys. According to a UNHCR report, refugees and migrants braving maritime crossings in Southeast Asia — primarily Rohingya and Bangladeshis en route from Myanmar and Bangladesh to Malaysia — are three times more likely to die than their Europe-bound counterparts.

on The Carlos Watson Show!

On the Fourth of July, sometimes those of us in prison can hear the fireworks boom outside the walls. Sometimes we even catch quick glimmers of light from the explosions off the bars in our windows. For me, and almost 2 million other incarcerated Americans, these are not signs of independence, but a reminder that we are not free.

"America, land of the free, home of the brave" is a powerful mantra heard in our country this time of year. But I believe there is a word missing. It should be “America, land of the free or home of the brave.”

America — land of the free — has the highest rate of incarceration in the developed world. The causes are widely debated, but as a woman incarcerated in America, I am forced to be brave when facing the harsh conditions inside these walls.

My use of the word "or" is meant to imply that we have a choice. It draws attention to our need for all of us — those of us who are not free and those of us who are — to be brave. For too long in the justice system, the word “or” has been forgotten. What would happen if we paid more attention to it?

Can the rest of America — and the politicians and the judges — be brave, too?

Prison term or rehab.

Prison term or drug court.

Prison term or home confinement.

Sentence harshly or sentence smartly.

Tear apart or rebuild society.

Throw away the key or believe in redemption.

Our country believes in punishment. Can we as a nation believe in rehabilitation? We do not need more prisons. We need more compassion and more treatment.

I often think of the "or" while I am counting bricks.

Let my circumstances break me or raise me up.

Just take it or stand up for my beliefs.

Be quiet or demand to be heard.

Defeat or atonement.

Wrong or right.

Die or live.

Those are my choices.

So this Independence Day, to acknowledge the choices I have made, I too am making a bold declaration.

My name is Heather Jarvis, not #93371.

I declare my life is more than this.

I declare I won't be shattered by a broken system.

I declare I am a good, worthy person.

I declare my story will not end here.

I declare the cycle will be broken, and I declare I will redeem myself.

What do you declare?

Heather Jarvis is a writer incarcerated in Ohio. A winner of PEN America’s annual prison writing contest, her work has appeared in the Iowa Review PWP, The Crime Report and The Journal of Women and Criminal Justice. She describes herself as a victim of the opioid addiction crisis, who, as publicly reported, is convicted of robbery and involuntary manslaughter stemming from a robbery gone wrong. This article was published in partnership with the Prison Journalism Project, an independent, national initiative that trains incarcerated writers to be journalists and publishes their stories. Sign up for PJP’s newsletter here.

On this Fourth of July, what does freedom mean to you?

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