Dear God, Thanks for Nothing
by
Becky Brasfield
The following is a letter I wrote to God about being incarcerated in the Cook County jail system. I almost put it in the mail, but then I remembered that—well, God doesn’t actually need to receive it to read it. So, here it is.
Dear God,
Thanks for nothing. You’re a real jackass, you know that. And I’m not taking that back either, nor am I going to refrain from using your name in vain. Why, you ask? Well, because I’m angry right now and I think I have a right to be.
First, you gave me this screwed up life and then you convinced me that my screwed up life was going to be used to promote civil and human rights. That’s the only reason I calmed down and accepted all that discrimination and abuse for all those years. Because my dumb ass actually believed you when you told me there was a Greater Purpose to all of this and do you know why? Because you’re God, asshole. That’s why I believed you. But man, did I screw up by giving you and your ‘faith is taking the next step even though you can’t see where the staircase leads’ bullshit. I never should have bought all those new age spiritualist interpretations of your so-called will at all. BIG mistake. HUGE.
That’s why after you blocked or redirected or delayed or whatever’d me from what would have been a phenomenal and profitable life in academia, you led me to believe that the only way to fight against the injustices in the incarceration system were to go into the incarceration system myself, so I could experience this bullshit firsthand. So, I did what I thought I had to do in order to provoke an illegal arrest without breaking the law and now I’m sitting here pissed off because now I’m a convicted felon and anyone who Google’s “Becky Brasfield” or “Rebecca Brasfield” is going to see that I was arrested for harassment by some dipshit incompetent racist detectives in Glenview—except it’s not going to say that they’re racist dipshits or incompetent, because I’m going to be the one to look like an incompetent asshole. So, thanks for the publicity jackass. Why don’t you just go fuck yourself and leave me alone because clearly your so-called will isn’t working out very well, is it?
I mean, what else do you want from me? You won’t let me kill myself and get out of this world. I can’t even volunteer anywhere. And do you know why? Because I’M A CONVICTED FELON, remember?? And the social stigma is so debilitating that I can’t even get a job. I can’t even volunteer with most jail or prison programs because I told off every racist person in the Cook County system and that’s a lot of people. So, I’m never going to be able to work for anyone else unless I take a job for someone who’s functionally illiterate or I want to (a) bag groceries for Walmart, (b) pick up trash for the CTA, or (c) make overpriced handsets for Motorola. And those jobs are limited anyway. Plus, knowing the system, I probably can’t even get hired through their felon programs because I’m too educated which makes me an overqualified applicant for those positions. People don’t generally hire people who can do and take their jobs from them. That’s usually how it works.
But, I suppose that one of your Christian missionary friends would probably tell me to be grateful right about now, right? That’s always the solution to this problem, isn’t it? I mean, you did let me go back to school and you did help me write two papers that I can submit for publication, and all my basic needs are being met. I can’t argue with that position, can I? So, now, in addition to being mad at you, I also get to hate myself for being an ungrateful bitch who’s privileged and swears at God for no reason. Wonderful. It’s a catch-22. I just can’t win with this at all because the truth is that I am being fairly ungrateful right now and I know it.
You really set me up with this gratitude piece, but I’m not giving up without a fight. You made me too smart for that. So, since I’m fully acknowledging I’m ungrateful right now, the present letter cannot be considered as a gratitude letter, can it? And I wouldn’t even call it a prayer even though it did start with “Dear God.” What this is is an unofficial grievance letter that I’m submitting directly to you because the truth is that a part of me happens to hate you right now. And while I would very much like to love you again, the limitations of human love appear to be conditional, so this is the best I can do.
And I know we’ve been through this before. With me swearing you off and me telling you off and you laughing at me and asking me why I don’t find humankind and their abuses so amusing. But listen, Herr Providence, I’m done with the old boy’s network in-joke chit chat with you about humankind. I almost don’t even care anymore. That’s what you’ve pushed me to. I no longer have a sense of humor about this anymore. All I have are serious life-threatening questions like, when is any of our conscientious activism going to be enough? Tell me that and maybe we’ll be back in business.
When are Black people going to cease being rounded up, lynched, and illegally arrested just for being Black? When are your public defenders going to start defending their poor, broke, and illiterate clients and cease working for the state’s attorney who wants a conviction—innocent or guilty? And when are your judges going to actually uphold the law and due process in the criminal courts? When is this going to be a reality?
And, while we’re on the subject, when are you on-duty Chicago police officers going to stop raping drunk 22-year-old women? And when are the other on-duty police officers going to charge them with a crime rather than place them on desk duty? I mean, tell me the truth. Let me in on the big secret. What the fuck is going on in this world of yours and when are people going to finally be brought to justice?
I went to jail to stop this bullshit and could have been killed and all I got was Class 4 felony on my record and I didn’t even break the goddamned law. But I’m Black and I was arrested by a racist White police officer who wanted to lynch me to gain the respect of her Klanish suburban Commander and Chief of Police. And that’s all it takes to enslave someone in this society today. The system is unjust and I don’t know what to do to change that. I’ve done all I can do already. So, thanks for the reward and the mark on what was a clean record.
I really don’t know how to thank you for this because triple thanks to you and your dumb, selfless ideas, I can’t even get certain apartments now because some landlords do criminal background checks on applicants. So, I guess I’ll be living in a cardboard box in uptown somewhere writing my gratitude lists on McDonald’s napkins. I’ll have to start writing my return address as “Uptown Cardboard Box #12” when I apply for food stamps, disability, and whatever other welfare checks I might qualify for, since now I can’t get a job. Man, am I filled with gratitude today.
I filed all the grievances and all the complaints within the system that I possibly could. I wrote 400 pages of detailed descriptions of unethical and illegal incidents to document all of the abuses in the system. I followed proper protocol the entire time. I collected all the evidence of this veiled slavery system that’s being run in this county, but nothing’s changed and I don’t even know what to do with all of the material. It’s just sitting here waiting for some up and coming investigative reporter to sift through, which really means that it’s just collecting dust and taking up space.
Thus, in conclusion, as a result of my severely, ill-advised activist efforts, I decided to write one final grievance letter—and it’s the present one that’s being written to you. So, I don’t know how you’re going to take this and I really don’t care, but for the sake of my last ounce of faith, are you going to do something about this or not?
Sincerely,
An enraged and reluctant believer.