by MOSES Publications | May 4, 2026 | Organizer
Organizer’s Corner: James Morgan
Interview by Margaret Irwin
James is working in several areas to help MOSES be a more effective voice for criminal legal system reform in our community and state.
- He is planning how best to work with the new UW student group Students Against Mass Incarceration. The training material he’s used in the past needs to be reworked and updated. He’s looking forward to strengthening this link between MOSES and the university.
- The reconstituted Fundraising Team is working on various ideas to raise money for the work of MOSES. James has been handing out flyers to various organizations for the Lunch and Learn event on May 20, featuring The Honorable Reverend Everett Mitchell, pastor of Christ the Solid Rock church and a Dane County Circuit Court judge. James hopes to have a full house for the event this year.
- The Fundraising Team will be exploring potential grants on behalf of MOSES. Integrated Voter Engagement (IVE): In the past, WISDOM did the fundraising for all the affiliates; this year it is up to us to find our own funding.
- Individual gifts: Some of us know people of means who might be willing to make a donation to MOSES. Many of us are hesitant to ask others for money, but James is not! He will come up with a document to help us discern who potential donors might be, and he will be glad to do the asking for us!
- Education: As active members of MOSES, we need to educate ourselves about the issues MOSES is concerned with so we can talk knowledgeably about them. James is planning to create a list of resources that will be useful for us. He recommends “Power,” a documentary about the history of policing. It is available on Netflix.
- Commutations: James welcomes Gov. Ever’s initiative on commutations (See Sherry Reames’ article on p. x). However, much more needs to be done to ensure that whole classes of people are not left out of this opportunity.
• Community-building: James hopes the members of MOSES can form deeper connections with one another by sharing stories of how we came to be part of this organization. This issue of the
by MOSES Publications | May 2, 2026 | MOSES Groups, Profiles
In 2007, Rachel Kincade received a Virginia McKnight Binger Award in Human Service. The following piece from the McKnight Foundation website describes Rachel’s work in Duluth, Minn., before she moved to Madison.
Sixteen years ago, single mother Rachel Kincade began her outreach to homeless youth with special needs. As the executive director of Life House in Duluth, Rachel now serves 700 low-income and homeless youth annually, ensuring them access to housing, education, and employment opportunities. Under her leadership, the city’s supervised housing for homeless youth has expanded threefold, and in partnership with others, Life House has helped establish one permanent and three transitional housing facilities for homeless youth. Rachel’s team also provides these youth, who are seldom seen as community assets, with opportunities for community involvement in Duluth’s Juneteenth festival and Take Back the Night, and fundraising activities for various charities. Through good times and bad, Rachel is committed to constantly reminding these youth that they are loved and their lives matter. “It’s an awesome responsibility,” says Rachel. “The things you say, or don’t say, and how it affects people’s lives.”
Rachel has a personal connection to many of the challenges her clients face. Years ago, after freeing herself from an abusive relationship, she lived through a harrowing period of substance abuse and criminal activity; following her treatment and recovery, Rachel fought to regain custody of her baby daughter from the state. Newly determined to succeed, Rachel earned her GED certificate and entered college. In addition to her work today at Life House, Rachel’s community contributions include participation in the Minnesota Coalition for Homelessness, Duluth’s Affordable Housing Coalition, the Governor’s Working Group to End Long-term Homelessness, the St. Louis County “Ending Homelessness in Ten” plan, and the Northland Foundation’s board of trustees. Rather than allowing her burdens to hold her back, Rachel – now a grandmother – is using the lessons from her past to teach and empower others.
Our Community Organizer, James Morgan, hopes that MOSES members can form deeper
connections with one another by sharing stories, such as Rachel’s, of what led us to be part of this organization. If you would like to contribute a piece, please let Margaret Irwin know.
by MOSES Publications | Apr 24, 2026 | Prisons, Reviews
The Belly of the Beast: The Campaign to End Forced Sterilization of Women Prisoners in California
A film by Erika Cohn
Reviewed by Pam Gates
At its January meeting, the local chapter of FREE – a movement of women whose lives have been affected by incarceration – showed a documentary that exposed a glaring overstep in state control of prisoners’ autonomy: forced sterilization. Women brought to the hospital for gynecological treatment might end up sterilized as well – without their knowledge or consent.
Kelli Dillon, the “star” of this 2020 documentary, spent 15 years in the Central California Women’s Facility, the world’s largest women’s prison, for shooting and killing her abusive husband during a fight. She had been trying to protect her two young sons and herself. According to the film, 92% of the women in prison are there due to domestic violence.
The other “star” of this documentary is Cynthia Chandler, co-founder of Justice Now, which provides legal advocacy for women in prison. Chandler had received a letter from Dillon stating that she hadn’t had her period for nine months, not since a hospital surgery for a cancer concern performed at the directive of the prison doctor. Chandler told Dillon to get her medical records, which they studied together when Chandler visited the prison. No cancer. But Dillon had been sterilized. And she wasn’t the only one. Many other women came forward as Justice Now investigated, stating that they’d been talked into a hysterectomy.
Justice Now found a law firm to take Dillon’s case pro bono. After a seven-day trial, the all-white jury dismissed Dillon’s claims; Dillon said that several lawyers were crying as they left the courtroom. She herself felt that “as a Black woman, my life wasn’t worth anything. It had no purpose.” She was released from prison not too long after, but found she couldn’t enjoy coming home. Her mind was on the trial, and on her sons, who’d grown into their teens while she’d been incarcerated. She’d seen them five times in those 15 years, “watching them grow up through a glass.”
A whistleblower sent Justice Now the minutes of a meeting at the state prison discussing the cost-effectiveness of sterilization during labor and delivery. According to federal law, it was illegal to sterilize without informed consent, but women were being asked to sign consent forms when they were “drugged up, just before surgery,” as one of them put it – or maybe they simply could not understand what they were being asked to sign.
Corey Johnson of the Center for Investigative Reporting came on board. Kimberly Jeffery told him that when she gave birth during her prison term, it was by c-section — for security purposes, she was told. Of 393 births during a given period, 222 were by c-section. Johnson found that doctors were being reimbursed for tubal ligations, but most of the time he confronted a culture of secrecy in the California prison system.
Dr. Heinrich, the prison doctor who saw Dillon, had a record of treatment resulting in permanently deforming kids or women. He was pushy about getting tubes tied. But it was a case of prison inmates’ allegations against people with PhDs. Said one person: “How do you know the crook is telling the truth?”
When Johnson asked Dr. Heinrich about making $100,000 on a banned procedure, Heinrich responded: “It’s cheaper than welfare.” That was part of the argument, and a share of the general public bought into it: Women in prison are not reproducing responsibly, so forced sterilization is a logical, reasonable consequence. Orange is the new sterile.
Justice Now, which has people currently in prison on its board of directors, launched a campaign for an anti-sterilization bill. The bill wasn’t moving forward, so Justice Now asked Dillon to testify on its behalf. She finally agreed, deciding that she had to accept what had happened – being sterilized at age 24 — and make peace with it. She’d wanted a second chance at life, at being a mom. She’d trusted the surgeon, and she felt robbed. She concluded her statement before the committee with this observation: “Is my testimony not accepted because I am African American? Or because I am a woman? Or because I was an inmate? … Or because of all three?”
After 1,400 forced sterilizations, SB1135 passed with bipartisan support. The prison system promptly began retaliating by blocking any reproductive treatment. A lawyer in the film called for a bigger national conversation on the topic; Dillon said that the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) had to be made liable. In a further step, another bill, California’s AB1764, seeks material redress for the forced sterilizations. “There has to be a happy ending,” Dillon says.
Note: Dillon earned an associate’s degree in social work during the seven years this movie was being made. She now works with girls to address teen issues and sexual violence, so part of a “happy ending” has been launched. Dillon’s relationship with her younger son is strong, and her bond with her older son has been growing.
by MOSES Publications | Apr 24, 2026 | Newsletter, Racial Equity Team, Racism and Racial Equity, Reviews
Nice Racism: How Progressive White People Perpetuate Racial Harm
By Robin DiAngelo, 2021, Beacon Press Books
Reviewed by Ken Warren
This book is a follow-up to Robin DiAngelo’s earlier book, White Fragility. In White Fragility, DiAngelo focused on white people in general. In this book she turns her attention specifically to white progressives. As the membership of Moses could easily be considered progressive and is also overwhelmingly white, this is a perfect book for us to read and take to heart.
In the first chapter, DiAngelo lays out her definition of a white racist. She points out that she is not talking about people who espouse hatred of BIPOC individuals, but rather people who unintentionally commit racial microaggressions. She gives many examples of this from her years of conducting seminars. She also does not spare herself, but points out her own microaggressions.
The author points out that one particular problem in the United States is our reverence for individualism. White progressives often challenge the idea of being generalized as a part of the white race. They feel that they should be viewed as individuals rather than as a member of a racial group. The problem with that, of course, is that we live in a society which supports and encourages white privilege. Whether we recognize it or not, and regardless of our economic status, our life in this country is made easier as a result of our whiteness.
This entire book has valuable information for anyone trying to be an anti-racist. I am, however, going to focus on Chapter 5, which is titled “The Moves of White Progressives.” In this chapter, DiAngelo lists 19 different moves by white progressives to argue against any suggestion that they may have done or said something racist in nature. She focuses particularly on credentialing.
By DiAngelo’s definition, credentialing describes the ways in which white progressives attempt to prove that they are not racist. She indicates that there are two broad categories of credentialing, which she labels color-deny and color-celebrate. In the category of color-deny, the person claims to not even notice race and therefore could not possibly be racist. An example of color-deny credentialing is: “I was taught to treat everyone the same.” The color-celebrate category says that the person welcomes, enjoys, and seeks out racial difference, thus the person is comfortable with racial difference and could not possibly be racist. An example of color-celebrate credentialing is: “My best friend is Black.”
Another move is “out-woking.” Examples of this are publicly criticizing other white progressives for their racism and complaining in seminars that they are not learning anything new. While some workshops may be more valuable than others, there is always something to be learned, DiAngelo says. Publicly complaining is just an attempt to show oneself as “woke.”
Another move of white progressives is “Downplaying our Advantages.” When asked to talk about their white privilege, white progressives often point out how terrible they feel about having those privileges. We may not have liked all the food at the table, but we were “all at the table, and that table was whiteness,” she writes.
The last move that I will highlight is “Lecturing BIPOC People on the Answer to Racism.” The example DiAngelo uses here was taken from a panel discussion in South Africa. When the event was opened to questions and comments, a Black woman expressed pain and anger about racial inequality in South Africa. In response, several white people stood and lectured on the solutions to racism that included personal responsibility, personal relationships, and not pointing fingers. None of them expressed any understanding of that woman’s pain.
As I previously opined, this book has important teaching messages from beginning to end, but what I found most revealing was my own response to the book. When DiAngelo would give examples of microaggressions or white moves, I would think, “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen that!” As I progressed through the book, though, I realized that I was looking at other progressives’ shortcomings but shielding myself. I started putting myself into those examples and began to understand how far I still have to go to become a true adherent of anti-racism and a consistent white ally. I encourage everyone to read Nice Racism. Use it to honestly assess your own work, yet to be done.
by MOSES Publications | Mar 12, 2026 | Life After Prison
Eric is serving a 30-year sentence for second-degree murder of an innocent bystander. While in prison, he read an article about the health hazards of drinking soda and decided to give up soda. It was the first time he had made a decision to deprive himself of something – and to stick to the decision.
This helped him realize that a major source of his life’s problems was a lack of self-discipline. His success in quitting soda convinced him that change was possible. He made other behavioral, self-disciplinary changes, like lifting weights. His new behaviors became habits, and those habits elevated his level of self-discipline and allowed him to tackle more significant changes, like quitting smoking and drugs. His continuing success led to many other positive developments, including earning an associate’s degree, working on a bachelor’s degree, obtaining paralegal certification, teaching a legal research class, and tutoring other college students.
“I can never make up for the past,” he says, “but I can try to offset it as much as possible by being the best person I can going forward. I’m getting better all the time, and I owe it all to quitting soda.”
Read the full story at https://www.themarshallproject.org/2025/04/04/prison-self-discipline-quitting-soda-psychology
