JULY 27TH 2022

If you have been wondering how I’ve been, I am not okay, to say the least.

On July 27th of this year, I was unlawfully detained by Covington Police and became one terrifying knee away from the Ancestors. You may have seen less of me, even though I have been home since July 12th— as I fear misstep in crossing the streets of our city on foot. Yet, I am still out here on my stronger days, as I refuse to allow this system to keep me under distress. (candidly tell the entire story in detail)

The charges they are attempting to destroy me with are: Public Intoxication, though they did not give me a blower at the scene or at the holding cells of horrors. Disturbing the Peace, where the only peace disrupted eternally has been our own, and Resisting Arrest; punishable up to a year in jail and a $500 fine.

As you may be able to imagine, being out of a job while furiously creating ways into a new and more sustainable career as an Artist, without insurance, and having none for over a yar, while maintaining my freedom and innocence with mounting legal fees, medical, and basic living bill approaching, I am struggling to remain above the surface.

Among these challenges, this unwarranted traumatic event tilting me completely over the edge, I’ve come to terms that I am in need of therapy, and have been since the first time they cuffed my tiny wrists at 9, stuffed me into the backseat, took my fingerprints and polaroid profile photos at the station, while holding out an identity chart in front of my baby chest to keep tabs; tagging me like some animal— all of this despite knowing the information that is taught to us as children to protect ourselves; home address’ and phone numbers. Ways to contact parents who are suited to teach us our formative lessons, NOT THE POLiCE.

I would rather this be a fundraiser to support aspirations in resolute work through artistry, as I do so with public and virtual readings, sites and social media of writings, and distributing beat-style publications of chapbooks, but I must humble myself to remain on this side of their walls to continue to fight and work for The People— nurturing what truly has delivered glorious purpose while in residence of this earth.

I just completed a computer science degree and am working hard in freelance to pave my own way into steady web design, development, and web accessibility careers, but this system won’t let me be.

I am trying to skate to stay fit, commute, and enjoy my health and strength while defying gravity, but the police won’t let me be.

I am trying to become a published writer of poetry, non-fiction, fiction, and politically driven sci-fi, but they won’t let me be.

I am trying to live, but they won’t let me be.

Undeterred by our country’s limitations, I’ve earned recognition amongst my communities as someone who encourages enriching artistic opportunities for the cities I reside, when there and not. Including, but not limited to creating writing workshops for the youth and the grown, holding literary open mics, local readings, and other mediums of performance artforms, and motivating The People to hold space for movements of social unrest, resisting inhumanities within and outside our country.

If you are unable to donate to preserve my freedom, then please do share this broadcast with anyone or organizations alike who could reach out and be of service. I hate feeling vulnerability in asking for help as a weakness, as it is one of many under-utilized human super powers we possess, but I have convinced myself a bit that because I am still living or not yet owned by the system, and incarcerated by the state, that I do not deserve the love and attention existing in the world among its inhabitance.

Though that be the case, I, my own writing, and those powerful writers before me constantly remind that I am worthy of this life— the most of The People surrounding me encourage to continue regardless of human plight.

This said, if there is any part-time work, please send this my way, as I do enjoy making my own bread. I’m currently taking odd jobs with 13 years of maintenance engineering on my belt, and applying to hardware stores because I like being in spaces that foster ideas in building projects.

Invite me to your homes and business venues and allow me to read for The People, where I am the most fulfilled in this effort to meet Liberty— where I can escape again to where semblance of peace fosters the focus on my work for the world; where basic freedoms our country has to offer are not being used in our stat to capitalize and further oppress our nation.

Aware of my own privilege as a passing black man of the mid-west, this isn’t just about me, as this affects us all, the U.S. citizens attempting to live free lives that are increasingly becoming more of a dream than a possibility. Where in a state there thrives 96 jailing institutions compared to the 38 of higher education. Where Kentucky locks up more folks than any other democracy on earth. Where we live in a state where 1,370 black human beings for every 100,000 pack the prison systems compared to the underrepresented white [prison] population; 466/ 100,000, in a state who’s population sits at 4.5M, 17% of this consisting of BIPOC lives trying to co-exhist beside an 87% majority of residence of white descent.

Fear the jails before incarceration, as this ruthless system in place will vilify anything to strip us of the very air we breathe. They did this to me because they could and wanted to with impunity— simply for skateboarding in the streets we pay taxes to mend and safely skate in. These Are Our Streets!

They have murdered us for less, these civil servants paid by The People, our “protectors”. I am continually thankful to still walk this place each time I am stopped; each time I have to re-watch every ounce of my human right being violated, supposedly protected by our Bill of Rights.
They are smothering dreams and opportunity in our hometowns of Kentucky.

They will do this to you, more importantly, they feel free to exercise this protection to target your children into adulthood who are so inspired to become Olympians, by Nyjah Hurston right foot alone. We know, as they have criminalized that love, therapy, and communion skateboarding has provided at the early ages of 12 & 13 to present day.

I am not at peace. As you are not safe, is am not safe. I am uncomfortable in my own home; my comfort zone where rest has surely been taken for granted. I do not feel safe in Covington, and I fear for the lives and livelihoods of family and friends who continue to make homes and bask in the greenery of our gorgeous state. Those who, the more I share my story, tell of their own injustices and experience in facing rising fascism in our city and country. Say ‘No More’ Dear Darlings of Covington, you are free to. The city is in desperate need of your voice.

Because our freedom does not resemble their freedom, not only am I in need of your help, if you are listening to this broadcast and are not from the bluegrass state, The People of Kentucky are in need of your eyes, your ears, voices and bodies to dismantle and reform the systems that would rather see us slaves to the state than enjoying the gifts of our human rights.

If you are bound by the weight and arrest of these looming demons of oppression and losing the drive to love yourself, know that you are worthy of the beauty this life lights the way with. Know that living is worth the fight to secure your own glorious purpose in wait.
Know that you are loved.

Fight the Power.
POWER to the PEOPLE
Thanks for Listening

Samuel T. Phillips