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LIFE OF A BLACK PRISONER 
CHAPMAN

There was no violence on the part of the inmates, just a passive protest. Nevertheless the warden, determined not to treat us as human, called in the state troopers and ordered them to shoot in our cell block, which they did. 

After the shooting we peacefully returned to our cells. As soon as everyone was safely locked in his cell, two guards came to my cell, armed with a shot-gun and a club. I was handcuffed and taken to the maximum security unit and put in solitary confinement. 

I was kept in solitary confinement from February 1969 to November 25, 1969, a period of nine months. During my stay in solitary confinement I was subjected to the most savage and degrading treatment imaginable. I was thrown in strip cells with nothing but a concrete floor and toilet, totally naked. I was threatened with a club beating every time I left my cell. Nevertheless, I continued to protest vigorously against the outrageous conditions. I filed suits in the Federal courts, daily protested to prison officials in spite of their silly threats of violence, and even went on a 30-day food strike for better medical care. But I was not alone in these protests. Beside me stood many courageous inmates, both white and Black. During my stay in solitary confinement, I learned something about a man's ability to resist slavery and shame, even under the most degrading conditions. I couldn't help but admire the fighting spirit of man in the face of adversity. 

While in solitary confinement the warden allowed me to have some of my books, and all my law books. I began to study law more seriously. There was a juvenile named Robert Henderson in solitary confinement with me. He had been illegally committed to prison. I led a legal motion in his behalf and he and several other juveniles were released from prison early this year.

The struggles and bitter experiences I have had in prison are very valuable to me. Only when you see a man at his lowest can you appreciate him at his highest, therefore I consider these experiences a most worthy contribution to my understanding and love of oppressed humanity. I have seen how people who extol the so-called dignity of the individual can mercilessly reduce other men to a bestial existence. I have seen with my own eyes that human love and kindness cannot be abolished by even the most insensitive tyrants. I have learned in the dirt and blood of battle, that it is better to have a brain of passion, than a passion of the brain. And, above all, I have learned to love life and to love more the endless struggle for a better life.

When I entered prison at the age of 19, I was a wretched slave. But now, nearly 10 years later, I am a man, a man whose heart

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