Kemba Smith marches to a different tune
by George E. Curry
-Guest Columnist-
Kemba Smith recently graduated from Virginia Union University. She
now plans to attend law school. That’s not remarkable in itself. What’s
remarkable is that just a year and a half ago, Kemba was confined to a
federal correctional facility in Connecticut, serving a mandatory 24
1/2-year sentence for her minor role in a drug ring.
At Emerge magazine we took on the case of "Kemba’s Nightmare,"
publicizing her plight and the courageous work of her parents, Gus and
Odessa Smith of Richmond, Va. Elaine Jones had her organization, the
NAACP Legal and Defense and Educational Fund, take up Kemba’s legal
battle. While not successful in court, LDF was successful in the
political arena, persuading then-President Bill Clinton to pardon her.
That’s why Kemba Smith is free, free of incarceration, free to obtain an
education and free to enroll in law school so that one day she can help
others who may become entrapped in the drug quagmire.
As she will tell you, there are thousands of Kembas in prison, young
women who have played only minor roles in the drug world, yet won’t be
as fortunate as Kemba. Their faces will not peer from the cover of a
national magazine, many of their parents won’t be as supportive as Gus
and Odessa Smith and no big-name legal operation will rally around their
cause. Instead, they will suffer anonymously with no prospect of
receiving a pardon from George W. Bush or his successor.
In Kemba’s case, federal prosecutors acknowledged that she neither
sold nor used narcotics. But because of her association with her
thuggish boyfriend, who evidently operated a drug ring in southern
Virginia, authorities went after her. They pursued her even more
aggressively when Kemba’s boyfriend was found dead before he could be
brought to justice.
Kemba is not without fault, as she will also tell you. She had
numerous opportunities to escape from the drug underworld, she made some
poor decisions, she betrayed her parents and, above all, herself. She
paid for her poor choices and, fortunately for her, she’ll get a second
chance at life.
As much as I rejoice in Emerge magazine having played a small
part in Kemba being set free, through the stories of Contributing Editor
Reginald Stuart, I often think of the other Kembas, the ones who won’t
receive a presidential pardon. The fastest growing segment of the prison
population is young women, not men. And, like Kemba, most are imprisoned
because of some involvement, however limited, with drugs.
I have no doubt that Kemba will become a successful attorney. In
fact, I predict that instead of chasing after the corporate dollar,
she’ll help defend people like herself. And I wouldn’t at all be
surprised if she later becomes head of LDF or a similar organization.
But what about the other Kembas?
They won’t get that opportunity. Those serving mandatory sentences
like the one given Kemba will waste a lot of time in jail. I suspect
that many, if given the same chance that Kemba was given, could make
something of themselves. But we’ll never know because they have not only
been deprived of their freedom but of another chance to get it right.
To prevent so many young women from facing a similar fate, perhaps
the best thing to do is to help them before they get into trouble. First
and foremost, that means not giving up on them, even as they test our
last nerve. That requires mobilizing all of our resources, doing things
to inspire self-esteem, setting up Saturday School, mentoring teenagers
and having an overall determination not to be defeated. The best way to
avoid having young people follow in Kemba’s footsteps is to intervene
before they are caught up in the system. And if they do slip, we should
work to see that they get a second chance.
(George E. Curry, editor-in-chief of NNPA News Service and
BlackPressUSA.com, is former editor of Emerge magazine.)
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