raúlrsalinas and the Jail Machine: My Weapon Is My Pen

Section II. Flying Kites to the World: Letters, 1968–1974

S e c t i o n I I FlyingKitestotheWorld Letters, 1968–1974 T he correspondence that follows offers unique insight into the innermost fears, hopes, passions, and intellect of a mind and spirit undergoing change over a period of years. The letters included here are only a small portion of the overall collection in the Salinas archives. Though Salinas wrote to his family in former periods of incarceration, few of those letters are part of the archive. In fact, perhaps it was Salinas’ growing awareness of the need to document his life through his correspondence, as well as his involvement in the prison publication enterprise, which gave him access, that led him often to use carbon paper to make copies of his letters. But, as one sees in reading his letters, the material conditions were not always controllable , particularly when he was placed in segregation and limited to use of a #3 pencil stub as a writing instrument. Still, this did not prevent him from communicating to the outer world. As with his journalism, one can chart Salinas’ political and spiritual development in his letters. Though it is clear that his family and friends had already taken notice of his creative talents and sought to encourage him to write and publish, it is also clear that his writing flourished as he became steeped in the prisoner rights movement through C.O.R.A., other consciousness-raising activities, and the Chicano prison publications efforts at Leavenworth. Furthermore, his role as editor placed him in a unique position to respond to inquiries from the outside world. Because many of these inquiries were about his work that had begun to receive notice in political and academic circles, Salinas’ very personable responses allowed him to cultivate authentic relationships with several people. An examination of the more extensive correspondence between Salinas and four of his interlocutors found near the end of this section reveals the dispersed and diverse community he established through an honest exchange of ideas and feelings. This extended, and perhaps imagined, community was one strategy of survival because it enabled him to feel connected to life outside the walls. Moreover, he also used his position as editor to solicit cultural and political organizations not only to take up the cause of prison reform but also to send publications, meeting minutes, and any information that would aid prisoners in feeling connected to political movements in the “free” world. Despite having embraced the use of lowercase letters for his name to de-emphasize his ego as an engaged writer and social critic, Salinas was unafraid to challenge his correspondents, particularly those in academic and political circles. His extensive knowledge of the role of the artist in revolutionary struggle fostered by the writings of national liberation movement intellectuals from all over the world is apparent, particularly in his well-aimed barbs at academics and his perception of their limited commitment to a political cause. It is also clear in reading his letters that the influence of Third World intellectuals had begun to cultivate an internationalist perspective in him as he made it clear on more than one occasion that the Chicano movement was only one phase of a larger working-class struggle. In addition to an emerging and deepening commitment of the author to the struggle for justice and equality, we also see in his letters much anxiety about his pending release, about what his role in the world will be in the post-prison years, particularly in relationship to his family and community in the aftermath of his transformation. The transformation itself is cause for anxiety, though it clearly brings with it a sense of empowerment and purpose. His many ways of identifying himself, besides his name and politicized farewells, indicate a growing sense of clarity about this role: from preso (prisoner), to his number (#83908-132), to editor, to poet-soldier. One can sense early on that, as he says, the pen would become his finest weapon with which to wage war against injustices inside and outside of prison. r a ú l rsa l i n as a n d t h e ja i l m ac h i n e 88 ■ ■ ■ February24,1968 Dear Roy, I just got your painting and its beautiful! I’ve hung it in the living room over the stereo. you’ll never believe the story that goes with it though! Your friend said...