Interview with Freddie Pierre on the Impact of Incarceration
Editor’s Introduction
The following is an interview with Freddie Pierre, an activist and organizer based in Little Haiti, FL. Mr. Pierre recounts his experience with the US carceral system. His experience shows the barbarity with which the US ruling class treats the working class, how the carceral system is but another means by which the proletariat is oppressed and exploited.
Q: Tell us a little bit about your background and how you grew up.
Freddie: I’m Haitian-American, born and raised in Miami, FL. I’m the eldest of three on my mom’s side. I grew up in Little Haiti. My dad was not in the picture, so I pretty much grew up with my mom. She went to school and worked, so growing up with my brothers, we had to take care of ourselves. As a kid, you don’t really realize the things you take for granted. I worked at Publix, Office Depot, and Walgreens, always in managerial roles. Meanwhile, my little brothers were still out in the streets. I loved my brothers and didn’t want anything to happen to them. There was a time when my brother needed help, and the police got involved. I ended up at an abandoned house, and my brother ran.
Q: Can you tell us about your experience with being incarcerated?
Freddie: In the interrogation room, I didn’t know my rights and ended up taking the fall. I received five years of probation. They took a chunk of my freedom away from me. I had always had my freedom, and now having a piece of it gone was irritating and uncomfortable. It made me think a lot, and I was under constant pressure. Living in the hood, anything could happen to you; even just hanging around with your friends put you at risk of being arrested. With only four months left on my probation, I got arrested again. I was hit with a gun charge and had to fight to get out of jail.
I have three kids—two sons and one daughter. Being away from them and my mom was detrimental. I was the provider for my family, and my absence hit them hard. When I was inside, they treated me like nothing. The biggest thing that agitated me was the fact that their uniforms said "rehabilitation," but they weren’t rehabilitating anyone—they were breaking people down and creating more monsters. They degraded me. I had to sit on my bunk, eat cheap food, and spend money just to access the phone to call my family. The cost of phone calls, lawyer fees, and trying to talk to my son—all while my wife was spending money to keep me fed—was overwhelming. That experience gave me a deep mistrust of the police because of what that uniform stands for. Every time I see a cop, I remember the way they arrested me, handcuffed me, and put me in a cell—all without being a convicted felon! They treated me like I was in prison when I was only going to jail. I always thought they were there to help people, but they’re just there to oppress people. Going through that made me realize how detrimental jail is for people.
I’m still paying court fees to this day just to have my driver’s license, to be able to help my family and take my kids to school. I was well-qualified for good jobs, but once I had an arrest record, it became a lot harder to get jobs that I was qualified for before. If you don’t get a job while on probation, you go back in. The system is set up to keep you going back in.
Q: What did this experience teach you about the capitalist system we live in? What would you like others to understand about the carceral system?
Freddie: Going through the incarceration system made me feel like it’s an endless situation, an endless cycle. It’s built for you to be recycled. It’s built for the people who created it to reap the benefits. They keep people in the dark and profit greatly from this system. I’d want people to understand that this system is built to destroy you—mentally, financially, and humanly. People have to pay so many fees to get back on track once they’re out of jail. Instead of guiding people toward unions in their workplaces, the system provides no support, and we just fall back down the rabbit hole.
Q: Tell us about your experience finding a job after leaving jail. How did your record impact your ability to find a job?
Freddie: Trying to find a job after jail was an eye-opener. I walked in confident, thinking I had all this experience, but none of those jobs wanted to take me. I had never had an issue finding a job before, but I kept getting rejected. I went to Publix, Winn-Dixie warehouses, and more, but it hurt my confidence. I started to feel like I didn’t know what to do. I eventually started my own pressure-washing business to “make my own ‘Yes,’” but I also worked at WingStop to make sure I had some money. At WingStop, they took advantage of my situation—they took breaks from me, took hours from me, and didn’t pay me overtime. I was okay with working for $8.25 an hour at 38 years old. That was the first time I couldn’t help my family. From making $800 a week to $500 or $600 every two weeks, I was broken down. It makes you feel like you’re okay with having just nothing. I worked for six years at that WingStop.
Q: How has this informed your political views?
Freddie: Because of this whole situation and doing some political education, I learned who the gatekeepers are who can affect these situations. It gave me a sword, armor, and a helmet. It gave me the confidence to fight for what I deserve. The city of North Miami, every year they are supposed to explain their budget. We started breaking it down, and all the things we pay for in taxes showed us how the officials were using our money, and the people don’t know how it’s being spent. My mom paid taxes, but the city officials used the money for trips and frivolous things. When I realized that Dade County can set up an agreement with the people that do the phone service for them without an in-between party, it became clear there’s plenty of dealing between local businesses and the local government.
Through my political education I learned who has the power. I learned how commissioners cast their votes, how town halls are held, and how the mayor has the option to pre-empt local measures. I’ve been in workshops about wage theft. I’ve learned how to be more friendly and how to build relationships, especially with people around me. I learned to never stop—that if one thing doesn’t work, try something else. I learned that we are a community, that together we have power if we can put our self-interest aside and struggle together. When we all put our minds together, we make the change together.