Solitaryby Albert Woodfox
The extraordinary saga of a man who, despite spending four decades in solitary confinement for a crime of which he was innocent, inspired fellow prisoners, and now all of us, with his humanity
Solitary is the unforgettable life story of a man who served more than four decades in solitary confinement—in a 6-foot by 9-foot cell, 23 hours a day, in notorious Angola prison in Louisiana—all for a crime he did not commit. That Albert Woodfox survived was, in itself, a feat of extraordinary endurance against the violence and deprivation he faced daily. That he was able to emerge whole from his odyssey within America’s prison and judicial systems is a triumph of the human spirit, and makes his book a clarion call to reform the inhumanity of solitary confinement in the U.S. and around the world.
Arrested often as a teenager in New Orleans, inspired behind bars in his early twenties to join the Black Panther Party because of its social commitment and code of living, Albert was serving a 50-year sentence in Angola for armed robbery when on April 17, 1972, a white guard was killed. Albert and another member of the Panthers were accused of the crime and immediately put in solitary confinement by the warden. Without a shred of actual evidence against them, their trial was a sham of justice that gave them life sentences in solitary. Decades passed before Albert gained a lawyer of consequence; even so, sixteen more years and multiple appeals were needed before he was finally released in February 2016.
Remarkably self-aware that anger or bitterness would have destroyed him in solitary confinement, sustained by the shared solidarity of two fellow Panthers, Albert turned his anger into activism and resistance. The Angola 3, as they became known, resolved never to be broken by the grinding inhumanity and corruption that effectively held them for decades as political prisoners. He survived to give us Solitary, a chronicle of rare power and humanity that proves the better spirits of our nature can thrive against any odds.
“Solitary is an astounding story and makes clear the inhumanity of solitary confinement. How Albert Woodfox maintained his compassion and sense of hope throughout his ordeal is both amazing and inspiring.”—Ibram X. Kendi, author of Stamped from the Beginning, winner of the National Book Award
“Albert Woodfox’s extraordinary life story is both an inspiring triumph of the human spirit and a powerful call for the necessity of prison reform.”—Van Jones, President of the Dream Corps and Host of CNN’s “The Van Jones Show”
“Albert Woodfox shares his coming-of-age story with crystal clear-eyed perspective, holding nothing back as he unwraps the unvarnished truth of his life. Deftly weaving the undeniable threads of race, class, and systemic inequities that made his story—and so many similar ones—possible, his journey of resilience, perseverance, growth, and triumph is at once a cautionary tale, a challenge to all we think we know about the justice system, and an inspiring testimony to the power of the human spirit.”—Reverend Leah Daughtry, co-author of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Politics
“Albert Woodfox’s memoir, Solitary, is as transformative, moving and important as any book I’ve ever read. Although I was somewhat familiar with the outline of his story, this deep dive into the complete perversion of our criminal justice system left me stunned. Solitary is both a call to action and a remarkable account of how one man sustained himself against odds that would defeat most of us by turning his anger into activism and resistance. I guarantee that readers will be talking about Albert Woodfox and Solitary for years to come.”—Mitchell Kaplan, Books & Books
“Mr. Woodfox’s Solitary is a remarkable document of perseverance, friendship, intellectual, political and spiritual growth in the face of dire circumstances. Mr. Woodfox’s precise and incisive analysis of the circumstances of his life and the historic & political conditions that led to his 40 years of solitary confinement in the Angola state prison are written in concise, passionate eloquence that make Solitary an important political and literary work. Reading Mr. Woodfox’s Solitary is necessary and important in these trying times.”—Paul Yamazaki, City Lights Booksellers
“What an extraordinary story – I hardly know where to begin. Every fibre of outrage, shock and sense of betrayal of the way we Americans think of ourselves as ‘the land of the free’ is stretched to breaking over Albert Woodfox’s story of unjust imprisonment and massively unjust solitary confinement for 41 years as told in his book Solitary. It is in particular the authorities who aligned against him , who refused to look at lack of evidence and refused to examine the horrific conditions under which he was held time and again who bear a responsibility that can only be considered heinous – anything short of that is too soft. Albert Woodfox deserves from us uncommon kindness and our deep admiration for surviving his ordeal with a grace truly breathtaking to witness. His story MUST serve as a wake-up call and an unparalleled testimony to the urgent need to break the ingrained habits of racism and cruelty perpetrated by & within America’s present day prison system. I am honored to have read Mr. Woodfox’s book.”—Sheryl Cotleur, Copperfield’s Books
February 19, 2016.
I woke in the dark. Everything I owned fit into two plastic garbage bags in the corner of my cell. “When are these folks gonna let you out,” my mom used to ask me. Today, mom, I thought. The first thing I’d do is go to her grave. For years I lived with the burden of not saying goodbye to her. That was a heavy weight I’d been carrying.
I rose and made my bed, swept and mopped the floor. I took off my sweatpants and folded them, placing them in one of the bags. I put on an orange prison jumpsuit required for my court appearance that morning. A friend had given me street clothes to wear, for later. I laid them out on my bed.
Many people wrote me in prison over the years, asking me how I survived four decades in a single cell, locked down 23 hours a day. I turned my cell into a university, I wrote them, a hall of debate, a law school. By taking a stand and not backing down, I told them. I believed in humanity, I said. I loved myself. The hopelessness, the claustrophobia, the brutality, the fear, I didn’t say. I looked out the window. A news van was parked down the road outside the jail, headlights still on, though it was getting light now. I’ll be able to go anywhere. To see the night sky. I sat back on my bunk and waited.