The space that I am in is a 10’ x 6’ jail cell. The walls
are tan but you can barely see the cream color of the original paint with
pasted on dirt that engulfs the room. Soiled toilet paper balls thrown onto the
walls becoming home made art. Every inch of it covered in filth. Garbage all
over the floors, steel silver toilet completely filled with unflushable shit,
putrid, a black sea overflowing. The entire space smelling of a combination of
urine, vomit and feces.
I sat on a bench where people carved their names that they
were here. I was careful not to move in this space I didn’t want any of this
experience on me. I sat in the corner closest to the prison bars not allowing
my head to lean too closely to the walls or touch anything, even though I was
exhausted… even though what I wanted more than anything was to lay down and
sleep… wishing that this moment was a dream that I would wake up and be in my
bed… wanting to believe that this moment was not really happing to me… Alicia
Anabel Santos…
“PLACE YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!”
These would be the words tattooed on my eyelids, stitched in
heart, marking my soul!
This is a reflection… a contemplation of the moments that
would lead up to a moment that would serve as yet another moment of trauma in
my life.
1900 hours
It’s Thursday, April 4th, 2013. My one-woman show
I WAS BORN debuted and kicked off its college tour at the University of New
Haven. It was a packed house. Jenny Perez delivered the testimonies of 8 of the
most heart wrenching stories ever passed down through me. She is an honor to
watch.
2130 hours
After the show we had a talk back. The students asked some
amazing questions and addressed some powerful issues and subjects. They talked
about the characters that impacted them;
Milagros, the 16-year-old prostitute from the Dominican Republic,
appreciating the realness of her voice and the issue of sexual tourism.
Clara, the 5-year-old from Chile who was molested by her
father (for three years), yet the government awarded him visitation with the
young girl.
Isabella of Peru, a young girl being exploited by her
parents, who uses her talents out of the dire necessity to eat.
Priscilla, the hip-hop artist from Cuba who is seeking
freedom for herself though her voice.
Mara, a successful writer from Puerto Rico who
self-mutilates because all she ever wanted was to make her father proud.
Veronica, a lesbian who maries a man for a visa in order to
save her family, “it all about the family!”
Caya, an indigenous woman from Colombia who is being pushed
from her lands by the guerilla.
And finally Lia, the narrator of this incredibly important
story. Lia, a CNN correspondent from the United States. Who after traveling all
over Latin America realizes that she must bring these stories home and address
the atrocities that are happening to womyn all over Latin America.
One of the things we talked about after the play was how
this story wasn’t just one about womyn in Latin America, but it is a universal
story effecting womyn all over the world. These womyn live everywhere and come
from so many different cultures and countries. Violence against womyn is the
number 1 human rights violation impacting the world!
Lia, who was chosen to tell their stories… stories of survival, abuse, inequality, discrimination,
injustice, exploitation, hyper-sexualization and objectification of women, femicide
and invisibility. Her message is one that fights for equality and social
justice!
Lia—who is really ALICIA!
A womyn who lives to tell stories that depict the strength
of spirit that lives in each womyn but especially mujeres Latinas.
We toasted with a glass of wine before leaving… here’s to
Jenny Perez, the amazing womyn of I WAS BORN and to me. It was a perfect ending
to a perfect evening!
After such an amazing time with the students at the
University of New Haven, we got in the car and headed back to New York City to
celebrate.
2300 hours
We decided to continue our celebration at Camaradas.
We stop at a light
I send a text
Notice the light is green
Turn left on 3rd Avenue from 116th
Street
I notice a siren… cop lights…
I am being pulled over.
I chill…
I am cool…
I am not worried…
I pull the car over…
Bring the window down…
Officer 1: (female, Caucasian, 5’6”, wearing a blue NYPD
uniform, badge number xxxx)
“Ma’am, please shut off your vehicle! License and
registration!”
“Here’s my license. I don’t have a registration, this is a
rental, and I have a contract.”
“Have you been drinking tonight?”
“Yes! I had one glass of wine.”
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“No! I don’t!”
“You were stopped at that green light… a little too long!”
“I was sending a text. I don’t text and drive. I took the
left when I was done.”
“Ma’am you can be honest… are you drunk?”
“Absolutely not! I only had one glass!”
“OK! I will be right back.”
Officer 2: (male, Caucasian, 5’ 8”, average build, good cop
to her bad cop, wearing a blue NYPD uniform, badge number xxx)
“Ma’am—where are you coming back from?”
“The University of New Haven. I am a writer and we are just
returning from showcasing my play.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Camaradas for dinner.”
“Do you have a local address?”
“Here is my New York ID it has my local address on it.”
“Excellent that will speed this process along.”
What’s going on in my mind is. Perfect… we should be out of
here soon. I could use my brother-in-laws name to get out of this but I don’t
need to. I’m good! I’m fine! I know I’m not drunk… I haven’t done anything
wrong… my license is from Florida and I don’t owe anything. No fines no
nothing… this should be quick!
Officer 2 approaches.
“Ma’am please step out of the vehicle!”
“Esperate! Wait a minute! I need you to contact my
brother-in-law he’s a detective with the NYPD. Please call him!”
“Ma’am step to the back of the car, put your hands behind
your back!”
All I felt was this chill. Was I really being cuffed right
now? Was I really being arrested?
“What are you doing?” I asked in total disbelief.
“Ma’am spread your legs.”
He frisks me.
“Do you have any weapons or drugs on you?”
“No! I do not!”
“Ma’am do you know why we are arresting you?”
“No! I do not!”
“You are being arrested because you have a suspended license
in New York.”
“I don’t have a NY License… what are you talking about?”
“Ma’am turn around and walk this way!”
“Please let me speak to my friends. I need to tell them what
to do.”
“I will tell them what they should do.”
And then I was thrown in the back of an NYPD van. There were
three cop cars behind my car.
THREE cop cars!
Because I was at a green light too long!
I sat in the back of this NYPD van and all I could think
about was my friends who were abandoned in the middle of the street, after
midnight, in East Harlem right next to the projects.
During the drive to the first precinct all I could feel was
the history of arrests and people who were transported in this vehicle… drug
addicts, drug dealers, thieves, pedophiles, murderers, teens who make poor
choices, prostitutes, alcoholics and now ALICIA… an activist, speaker,
feminist, writer, mother of a daughter on the deans list, servant of my
community and my people… Alicia arrested for being at a green light too long…
oh yeah and if they can’t get me for that… the fall back is this suspended
license thing!
Arriving to precinct 1: I am ordered to stand on a yellow
line in front of the desk sergeant. The arresting officer (the female cop—yet she
really wasn’t the person who cuffed me) asked me to remove my belt, takes my
red scarf, empties my black suit blazer, and she begins to remove my elekes
(religious beads).
“Please don’t touch my beads--please. Use a cloth or gloves
to take them off—you can’t touch them!”
“Can I use your scarf?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
I felt myself being stripped of my protection, my strength,
my powers, my worth, my value, my work, my spirit… I felt a part of me dying in
that moment!
“Place your hands being your back! Walk this way.”
She opened the cell. Removed my handcuffs and closed the
cell door behind me.
CLINK CLINK
I was in a space where there were two men passed out in
another cell close by.
The space smelled of cigarettes and murdered dreams, futures
assassinated and human potential demolished…
I sat there having an outer body experience, feeling like… don’t
they know who I am? Don’t they know all the great work I do? Don’t they know
that I AM LOVE?
I was in that jail cell for several hours, trembling,
frightened, uncertain, confused, just wondering what the hell was going on.
Then it hit me… hold on a minute I get a fucking phone call.
“Excuse me officer—can I please call my daughter?”
“Yes in a little while.”
Female cop enters the space, unlocks my cell… “hands behind
your back!”
Cuffs me again. Dials my daughters number…
0130 hours
“Hey baby!”
“Hi mom!”
“Honey—mommy was arrested tonight. I’m in jail… it’s a long
story…”
“What happened?”
“They say my licensee is suspended its going to be ok.
(Everything in me was trying to hold it together and not fall apart on the
phone with her). I need you to make three phone calls… let them know that I am
in precinct 25—they’ll know what to do.”
“Ok mommy! It’s ok mommy… everything is going to be fine…
don’t worry.”
“Still meet me in Albany… nothing has changed. I will see
you there. I will be fine. Thanks baby… I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Oh…. But I wasn’t fine… I wasn’t ok. I began
hyperventilating and crying hysterically… she threw me back in that cell again.
CLINK CLINK
Then an hour later came back to take me to the room where
they would be conducting a breathalyzer test.
NY State Trooper 1: (male, Caucasian, 5’ 11”, average build)
“Ma’am this officer suspects that you’re intoxicated. Do you
agree to take this test?”
“Yes!”
In my head I’m like… let’s fucking do this! I know I’m not
drunk!
NY State Trooper 2: (male, Asian, 5’10”, average build)
“You are being recorded… state your name… state your
address… OK you will blow on this tube until I tell you to stop. I will
demonstrate.”
I breathe onto the plastic… over and over and over and over
and over again… then a number appears… I am asked to stop… the result is: .012
“What does that number mean?” I ask confidently and
beginning to feel my attitude rising in me!!!
“I’ll explain in a minute! Take a seat.” The Caucasian
trooper orders.
“Ma’am please get up! How old are you?”
“I am 41 years old.”
“The test result means that for your age your blood alcohol
levels are well below the limit. You have passed. For your age you can have a
glass of wine and drive… if you were 21… (In my head I was like…. Are you
serious… I don’t give a shit about your chart…) However the arresting offer
still would like you take other tests, walking the yellow line, lifting your
leg, finger on nose, but it’s optional you can accept or refuse.”
“I REFUSE!”
I wanted to say are you fucking kidding me? Of course you
want me to take more tests you could use the fact that I’m incredibly nervous
in this situation and one stumble and you are justified in your accusation that
I was driving under the influence… HELL NO—absolutely not!!! I will not be
taking any more tests.
“No! I will not take your test. In fact, when can I go home?
I am expected at the University of Albany today for a conference that I am
speaking at.”
The female cop responds…
“There is still the matter of your suspended license! Place
your hands behind your back!”
She escorts me to a cell so I can finally go to the
bathroom. It’s disgusting… I go quickly… not touching anything… trying hard not
to look at my surroundings.
Place your hands behind your back!
She brings me back to my cell and tells me that we would be
waiting for transport so that I could be booked.
I began to cry again… I cried the entire evening… throughout
the entire experience. All I could think about is all of the work that I do and
will continue to do… all I could think about was that when I am called to fill
out certain forms if asked “have I ever been arrested?” that I would now have
to write yes… this could ruin me… my career…my life!
BOOKED!
0400 hours
I’m sitting in a new cell in precinct #2. This new space
covered in filth sitting next to the cell bars praying my way out of this. I
was so cold.. trembling… the fear of this moment was eating away at my bones… I
was being broken down…
I was praying that my brother-in-law would jump in and save
the day and get me out of this mess. All I kept thinking about was that this
same day I was expected at the National Latino Collegiate Conference at the
University of Albany to speak on Afrolatinos, Gender Inequality &
Sexuality.
I was being broken down…
How would I be able to explain to these students who are
expecting me that “I’m a little tied up right now!!!” and unable to make it.
My brother-in-law did come through… he made a phone call to
get me out of that prison in the early mornings of Friday, April 5th…
but not before they took my finger prints, palm prints, and hand prints (left
and right). Not before the infamous mug shots were taken… look straight at the
camera then turn to face your right side… not before breaking me down
completely!
Place your hands behind your back!
Back in the cell… at this point I didn’t believe anything
the female cop said to me.
“You need to call someone with a valid license to come pick
you up and drive you home.”
My friend arrived…
The female cop released me from the cell.
Gave me a white sheet of paper with a court date…
Brought me back to the yellow line and the desk sergeant
released me.
The female cop brings me to the waiting area where my friend
is waiting… the officer gives me my personal belongings in a brown folder.
Where I carefully put on my elekes, belt, red scarf and black blazer. I hug my
friend crying and we leave.
We leave…
And what I am left with is…
This sense of intrusion…
This sense of violation…
This sense of frustration…
This sense of isolation…
This sense of humiliation…
This sense of my freedom raped from me…
Replaying in my head was something that female cop kept
saying… about how she did me a favor… how I could still be in jail… that she
didn’t have to release me until 2:00pm the next day… until after my arraignment...
until after I saw a judge… how I could still be in there… that she didn’t have
to do that… but because I was so respectful…..
YOU DID ME A FAVOR?
You arrested me for being at a green light.
Let’s call it what it was…
A wrongful arrest
Racial profiling
Held without probable cause
Unlawful detention
Humiliation
Mental trauma
Civil rights violated
Discrimination
Abuse of power
You did me a favor!
You hoped that I was drunk so that your arrest could be
warranted and justified.
You hoped that my levels were over .08
The pressure you must be under to arrest people guilty and
innocent just because you are ordered to and have to fulfill some sort of
monthly quota…
This is where our criminal justice system fails…
This is where she fails as a woman and human…
To protect and serve!!!!
You are an imprint on my soul!!!
Place your hands behind your back!
Today as I write this story down… recalling how I was broken down what I understand is
that most of the experiences of my life show up to do precisely that BREAK ME
DOWN so that I can rebuild and be able to tell these stories…
And to that female officer—I will see you in court!
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