restorative Justice in Baltimore

The International Center for Justice and rehabilitation defines Restorative Justice as a practice that emphasizes repairing harm cause by crime. They say, "when victims, offenders and community members meet to decide how to do that, the results can be transformational."

In my own life I have found this to be true. I will try to keep this long story short. 

On Dec. 31, 1997, I was four and living in a small town between Vancouver and Whistler, British Columbia. My father, a lawyer and triathlete, was informed of a party going on at the home of one of his friends. The party was being hosted by his friend's teenage son. It was crowded and out of control. My father and his two friends left our home to make sure everything was alright. 

My father graduating from Law School

Upon reaching the house the men were split up. My father went to the master bedroom where he found a group of young people. For whatever reason they became violent. One man punched him in the face, another kicked him in the head once he had fallen. He died almost instantly from internal bleeding. I was four. 

The tough part was that no one knew for sure who had done it. It took five years of police investigation to convict the man. In the meantime we moved to Victoria, my mother remarried and I started school. When the offender was convicted my mother asked to meet him. In her mind she needed to understand why she had lost her husband. She wanted to how someone had been capable of that type of crime. She wanted him to know the human impact. So they met. They discussed the crime and each of their lives and were facilitated in a process of restorative justice. He served five years at a minimum security facility. 

When I was 12 I decided I wanted to do the same. In hindsight I think we had no idea how to communicate with one another. The only thing was had in common (with the exception of my father) was art. He was an artist. I was an artist. We talked about painting. I showed him my work. I saw his. 

Six years later it still feels surreal and I have many unanswered questions. The only thing I have a solid grasp on is our respective humanity. Art has always been a safe tool of exploration for me. It is both healing and empowering. Knowing the nature of this tool, I have a hard time thinking of anyone who uses it as a monster. Our shared pursuit of art has been the most humanizing discovery of my life. 

This is why I have found myself here, in Baltimore, at MICA. I am not entirely certain of how to do it, but I am confident in the healing capacity that restorative practice and creative expression can have in combination.  

Last friday I met with the Executive Director of The Community Counselling Center, Lauren Abramson.  We shared a mug of tea and discussed the work her organization does. In short, The Community Conferencing Center provides safe spaces for reconciliation to occur. In their own words, they provide a highly participatory, community-based process for people to transform their conflicts into cooperation, take collective and personal responsibility for action, and improve their quality of life. Through partnerships with people, neighborhoods, governments and institutions, the Community Conferencing Center helps Maryland communities resolve conflicts and crimes within their own communities. (www.communityconferencing.org) 

Nkisi

Lauren shared a few interesting ideas. We began to talk about the link between restorative justice and art and she told me about the African tradition of Nkisi statues. Communities create wooden figures and every time a conflict is resolved holistically, they put a nail into the figure. I find myself very drawn to the idea of a visual representation of a community empowered by their own peacemaking. 

unfinished work - myself as nkisi

This has inspired my art making this week. I've chosen to work with acrylic paint and write a letter to the man responsible for my father's death. While it is embedded in the work now, I found the process of writing to him so directly to be challenging. I began the letter with the word "dear" and immediately crossed it out. My first line reads, "This is not a thank you letter." The piece goes on to explain the place I have found myself in now, the work I am doing, and the future in community arts I am building for myself. I don't plan on actually sending this letter.