African Americans represent 26% of juvenile arrests, 44% of youth who are detained, 46% of the youth who are judicially waived to criminal court, and 58% of the youth admitted to state prisons (Center on Juvenile and Criminal Justice). This might cause one to think that African Americans simply commit more crimes, but African Americans only represent 12% of the total population of drug users yet 38% of those arrested for drug offenses, and 59% of those in state prison for a drug offense. They are sent to prison for drug offenses at ten times the rate of whites. African Americans serve virtually as much time in prison for a drug offense (58.7 months) as whites do for a violent offense (61.7 months). (Sentencing Project)

Now consider that over 95% of elected prosecutors are white, and according to the American Bar Association, so are 88% of lawyers. How does this influence sentencing outcomes? Well, I don’t think I can say it as eloquently as this piece of research from The Sentencing Project (2005).

No matter what race, we need to acknowledge the racial disparities of mass incarceration and stand up to the issues behind it; otherwise, we are complicit in systemic racism.

Recently I have been learning through an internship with a local organization called It Takes a Village, a job-readiness program for people on probation or parole. It is a faith-based organization, and though I'm not a religious person, I see a lot of merit in their character-building curriculum that preaches forgiveness of one's past. I listen in quietly so that I might learn how Beverly, the CEO and founder, reaches people and effects change.

Today Beverly held one of her weekly classes. As she spoke, her assistant wrote several Biblical names on a white board. 
Paul = persecutor, murderer
Joseph = adulterer, poor father
Judas = betrayer, thief; and so on.

Beverly then said, "These are all people who followed Jesus. Who do you have the most in common with?" 

From the moment I met her, I recognized Beverly as a woman of deep inner peace. She has something inside that I want to learn for myself. Especially in this line of work - assisting former offenders and people facing serious life obstacles - you need an inner peace to return to at night, or you will go crazy. Her message to her program participants is consistent - it doesn't matter who you were; it matters where you are going. Change is possible, but it first must happen from within.

Her question - Which sinner do you have the most in common with? - struck a chord with me because I think about the stigma of ex-prisoners and the source of that stigma. General society marginalizes ex-offenders (it is currently legal to discriminate against people who have been in prison on any platform - housing, employment, government assistance, etc.) on the premise of, "Hey, I'VE never been to prison, so that makes me inherently better than those who have." The problem with that belief is that our justice system is not currently operating justly. Further, we cannot even say law is always tied to morality or ethics. The same unlawful action in two similar contexts may be treated completely differently based on who the perpetrator is: We make exceptions for war, for profit, for land acquisition and Manifest Destiny, for someone who affords a good lawyer, or for "affluenza". Not only is the racial makeup of prisons disproportionate; so is the economic makeup.

Michelle Alexander in The New Jim Crow argues that statistically, an individual's convictions have more to do with the color of their skin and their socio-economic standing than the crime committed. For instance, it is a myth that a larger number of drug users and drug dealers are people of color; they are just prosecuted at a higher rate. This is partially an effect of War on Drugs policies that created huge gaps in sentencing for powder cocaine (500+ grams = 5 year minimum sentence) versus crack cocaine (5+ grams = 25 year minimum) - by empirical evidence, both forms are equally addicting, both with similar effects, but one type was more prevalent in white society and the latter was more prevalent in black society. Imagine.

But policymakers during the War on Drugs also viewed "white" crimes differently from those committed by blacks, and they were combatting an image of criminality that was wrongly formulated. This is true of current society: our view of the prisoner is largely constructed by media and political agenda. But when people of privilege commit serious crimes (i.e. drug possession), they tend to make moral exceptions for themselves; they believe they "aren't as bad" as people in prison, since they believe people in prison, unlike themselves, are inherently deserving of that position in life. Just take a look at how many times people have tried to reform War on Drugs policies; yet, reforms have not been granted until recent years, when attention to upperclass opiate addiction has entered the limelight. Now our policies for drug possession have taken a more rehabilitative approach. The reality of the mass incarceration of our poor and our minority populations is, instead, a symptom of a system that favors the wealthy upper class. Just a few years ago in my area, a well-known doctor was driving drunk and hit a girl who was skateboarding. He left the scene of the crime. She lost her life; he did not go to prison. He had an excellent lawyer.

There are crimes that are heinous and unfathomable, and these are so much at the forefront of media that the public has built a vision of what a "prisoner" is. But not all people in prison have committed heinous and unfathomable acts. And not all people are prosecuted and sentenced equally. A divide exists, and that is where people need to take a hard look at their judgment. Our humanity does not separate us as much as we believe.

"Live patiently in the world knowing that those who hate you are more numerous than those who love you."

-African proverb

This might be a statement on human nature: how jealousy and grudging can overpower love, how most people in the end are self-interested. But I am reading this quote in a time when group hatred is pronounced and global. It rings in my ears as literal.

My forthcoming novel Without Shame is a push for religious tolerance. Which is something I thought - no matter what culture or sect you practice from - would be a favorable lens on Islam in a time where you see headlines like "Secularist blogger brutally murdered in Bangladesh - the fourth one this year by Islamic groups." But my eyes were opened to something the other week, and it has to do with the quote mentioned above.

I asked a Pakistani writer to review Without Shame, and after reading it, she declined. I believe she is Sunni, and she did not approve of my inclusion of Sufism and Bengali cultural practices, as she explained, "It's not mainstream Islam and many of their practices aren't backed by Quran and sunnah...there is no concept of evil or good spirits in Islam, or healing by chanting, etc. It is especially disturbing because at least some of the characters in the story (for instance Sajib) are religious and seem to have knowledge about their faith because they are educated, yet they are following and/or condoning these practices." She demanded I change the book or at least make a note that the book is not talking about true Islam, stating that non-Muslim readers "will take it as face value and grow in their belief that Muslims are weird, irrational superstitious, etc."

First off, the basic thing this writer missed is that I am not speaking for all Islam; I am observing a part of Bangladesh. 

I sincerely believe that my readers are smarter than to take the book as a face-value representation of all Muslims. I think the general public has a basic understanding of Islam (its tenets are taught in grade school and high school world history classes), and when misconceptions arise, they are not over a belief that Muslims are superstitious in any way - rather, I think most prejudices by Westerners revolve around a misguided idea that Islam is a violent, intolerant religion. (An argument can be made that humans are inherently intolerant and violent, and our belief systems either keep our nature in check or are used as an outlet for it - reminding you there are violent extremist Buddhists, Hindus, Atheists, Christians, what have you, but that is a discussion for another day).

Shamanism, the evil eye, and mystic healing are all practiced in Bangladesh, even by Muslims. It's my hope that my readers are analytical enough to see that Sufism and Bengali Mysticism must all co-mingle with Islam in the book as a point of cultural accuracy, and they are equally legitimate practices, not "weird."

Furthermore, the book is not meant to be a statement on "the" Islam; it isn't meant to explain mainstream practices or sway the reader one way or another, except to think. It is a novel about a small, 1960s village in Bangladesh, where cultural practice and religion intermingle in their own unique way. Look anywhere, and you will see that culture brings nuances despite the defined religion - you will see that in Saudi Arabia, women can't drive, but Muslim women become doctors and leaders in other parts of the world; or you will see that 97% of (Christian and Muslim) girls in Egypt suffer from female genital mutilation, a practice people accidentally construe with Islam, but many Muslim and Christian activists are working ardently to change this. Hopefully, as people read about other cultures and religious nuances, they will be MORE equipped to distinguish religious practices from cultural tradition and not make generalizations about entire religious groups on a global scale.

This is a fundamental tenet of my book: Culture is inseparable from religion - they are a part of each other. When East and West Pakistan were formed, it was based on a theory that all Muslims were the same, so they should live under the same Pakistan. Let's take a guess if that worked...

No. Though they are majority Muslim, Bengalis had a separate and distinct way of life that didn't mesh with 1960s Pakistani law. On top of it, they were seen as inferior; they were abused and taken advantage of, re-colonized by West Pakistan, and that led to revolution. In a big way, this writer's feedback served to further validate this anti-theory, especially as a Pakistani Muslim woman reading about Bengali practices.

The most perturbing thing about this other writer's response is that she wanted to dictate my portrayal of Muslims in Bangladesh to fit her belief in the "proper" Islam. At the very least, she said, I should have a note in the foreword telling my readers how to distinguish between culture and religion.

Literature is supposed to reveal a part of life. It is not definitive. It is not the template of all reality. It is a peephole into someone else's truths. It is an insight into our connection, our differences, our humanity. It is supposed to show, not dictate. Hopefully, through that, we can become a more tolerant, empathetic, and loving people. But those who will read it will take it as they will.