The Advocate

Some of you may have noticed today in San Leandro that along Parrot Street, between E. 14th and Hays, are some giant letters spelling out an important message: Black Lives Matter. This effort was undertaken by local residents, activists, and organizers in order to highlight the need for racial justice in our community. Indeed, many of our elected officials were spotted participating, glad-handing, taking photos, and canvassing. Whether for themselves or because they truly believe that Black lives matter is unclear. Because, see, in the days and weeks prior to this, they have seemed more interested in delaying, obfuscating, and actively preventing justice from being carried out in the murder of Steven Taylor. (And the assault of Emerald Black, and previous acts of murder and brutality against BIPOC residents by SLPD, and regular abuse against our homeless population, and local animals mistreated by our officers rather saved by trained animal control agents, but I digress). True, the cit

(Credit: Kevin "Rashid" Johnson) If you're a fan of Netflix's  Orange is The New Black, then you know exactly what I'm talking about here. With the release of season 4  this sentiment has been brought to the forefront of a show that not only pushes the boundaries of television, but of our entire concept of social justice in a country simultaneously more progressive than ever and yet also more oppressive in sheer numbers than at any other time in history. But for me, the core of what OITNB has shown us over the course of this season is that, regardless of what you've done: y ou are still a person . Maybe you sold crack. Maybe you robbed someone. Maybe you even killed someone. That doesn't mean you are no longer human. That doesn't mean you deserve the kind of treatment we're seeing in America , courtesy of the prison-industrial complex, bigotry, and apathy. As seen through the eyes of prisoners, former prisoners, and investigative journa