It’s 2003, Tony Blair is still Prime Minister and a shy
loner from London, Amber Campbell, joins the prison service searching for
purpose.
Behind
the walls of the women’s prison Amber is determined to prove that she has what
it takes. She makes a
packed with two close friends to support each other no matter what. However,
the three Black women struggle when they experience discrimination and disappointment
at every turn.
There is rising racial tension in her home town when
twelve far right local councillors are elected. Amber reflects on the prison
system in her blog and takes an emotional journey off the beaten
track through Africa to find love.
Mental Health
This morning, Ms Hook, Ms Rot, Ms Freeman and I unlocked the unit for breakfast and the green corridors became alive with women. The women busied themselves with getting mops and buckets to clean their cells and queued patiently for the bathrooms. The smell of perfumed shower gels and creams drifted down the unit.
Sitting
back in her chair with a cup of tea in hand, Ms Freeman crossed her legs and
said “So, Ms Campbell, tell us some more about yourself.”
The
bell literally saved me.
“Bloody
hell, who’s that now?” Ms Rot slammed down her mug on the desk.
There
was a brief pause, as they looked at the board to see whose emergency bell had
sounded.
“Don’t
worry, I’ll go.” Ms Hook got up with little enthusiasm.
Ms
Freeman and I left the office and strolled down to the officers’ smoking room
looking for chocolate biscuits.
“So,
tell me some more about yourself.” She looked at me with high expectations.
I’m
twenty-three years old and I live in a rat-infested council estate on my own in
Hackney. I’ll tell people the reason I joined the prison service was because I
wanted to help people, but the plain fact was that I simply needed a job.
“But
I’ve got plans. I’m not going to live there and just be a prison officer
forever. I know I’ve got a lot to offer the prison service.” I hoped I’d convinced Ms Freeman that I was going places.
“I’m
sure you’ve got lots to offer. Good luck.”
She
was not convinced.
The
sound of fast-paced footsteps approaching the smoking room interrupted the
conversation.
“We’ve
got a problem here. Get Mr King round here now,” Ms Hook said.
I
sat alone not knowing whether to go or stay put and finish my tea. At first, I
strained my ears to listen to the commotion in the distance, I stood up as
screams of terror engulfed the unit.
A
prisoner called Ms John has been on D3 unit for a while as there were no spaces
on the mental healthcare unit. Her matted afro hair and strong body odour
deters the toughest officers and her silence makes her even more terrifying.
This
morning, she emerged from her room with a full-to-the-brim bucket of excrement
she had hidden under her bed for two weeks. The unit descended into chaos. Ms
Rot was the first to be hit. Dark brown thick
excrement dripped down Ms Rot’s perfect white shirt. Ms Hook ran back to the office and locked herself in while screaming
women banged on the door and begged to be let in. I ran in to the glass
association room bringing with me as many prisoners as I could before I locked
the door.
Other
prisoners hid where they could, under their beds, in the bathrooms and in the
smoking room, barricading the doors behind them.
I
yelled into my radio “Immediate Assistance Required! Immediate Assistance
Required!” The siren rang throughout the prison. Ms John stood by the unit door
waiting for the officers that would answer
the call. Mr Smith was the first officer through the door and he was met by a full
bucket of excrement in his face. Ms John had covered herself in her own mess
and stood licking out the bucket goading officers to dare take her down. I watched
her from behind
the glass with the other women defying about fifteen officers as they
encircled her. They nervously moved forward and when she jumped forward, they
jumped back. In that moment, she was the one in control. For the first time in her life she, a mad Black
woman who had always been the least
of the least, had power. I continued to watch as they then forced her down to the ground
like a dangerous wild animal. Five male officers
piled on top of her. From behind
the glass windows, I heard the
crack when they smashed the side of her face to the floor and I winced as the
first punches and kicks were delivered to her body. Yet, she resisted. I felt
her agony as they used all their strength to bend her wrist back to a deformed
position. She complied with officers’
demands, but her surrender meant
nothing. They carried Ms John
to the segregation unit. We evacuated D3 unit to the gym for several hours
while an outside company came in to professionally clean the wing. Mr Smith and
Ms Hook had to be taken to hospital after swallowing excrement.
Social
Media Links – @JosieChanner
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