Tigers
By Brandon Astor Jones
"The identity crisis ... occurs in that period of the life cycle when each youth must forge ... some central perspective and direction, some working unity, out of the effective remnants of ... childhood and the hopes of [her] anticipated adulthood." — Erik Homburger Erikson 1902-1994
You do not have to be a child to make use of your childlike imagination. In fact, for those adults among us who largely missed out on childhood, a little childish imagination is very healthy for our sanity. Friedrich Schiller said that such ideas are "childish, but divinely beautiful". Yes, they are. We will gladly latch onto almost anything that serves us well, as children or adults.
For quite some time, I have had tigers in this cell. I write so much (and I am not allowed to keep a filing system) that sometimes I lose important writings. Words can quietly hide themselves on paper.
As a consequence, it has been my habit of late to put important writings on paper on which a friend has generated a regal yellow, black and white tiger for me with his computer. Now, these important writings do not get lost; my tigers roar loudly (in a visual sense) as I shuffle through endless stacks of 18 years of papers. In prison one must make do.
Today, for reasons I cannot reveal, I was told to get rid of my tigers. Alas, much of the world I live in is on paper. I am deeply touched by words and images on paper.
I have before me now two pieces of Kodak paper. They are projecting images of my beautiful young niece. Enfys Elen Roberts is every bit of five years old. There is a mischievous smile on her face. The thumb of her left hand is pressed into her cheek. She is the classic child at play.
Her rose-coloured sweatshirt is accented by two very red lips, sharply contrasted by the purple hue of her pants. In the other photograph she is far more serious. There is trust, innocence and that universal look of inquisitiveness on her face as she questions the camera. Both of her tiny hands are gently but firmly holding a black, brown and white guineapig. Perhaps it is her tiger. It is very real; its name is Rover.
In the realness of the world that she and I share — yes, even in Gwynedd, Wales — I am reminded that there are so many paper people. Most of them are men, young and old. Eventually they will deny her things simply because she is not a man. They are the ones who decree that a woman is too tall, short, small, large, feminine or not feminine enough to climb certain socioeconomic ladders in their sexist paper world.
As an African-American man, I know many of these men all too well. They are the same racists who would have us believe that men and women (even children) cannot live somewhere or do this or do that because our skin is not like theirs.
Enfys may not know them yet, but I fear she will. By that time I know my sister will have instilled in her a true and strong sense of self-worth. She will need that in both our paper and real worlds to survive and climb her life's ladders.
I have decided to send her my paper tiger. While it silently stands guard at the top left hand corner of a single piece of paper, the most important words I have ever written continue to enjoy its protection. They will be safe with her. I have committed them to memory.
I no longer need the tiger or the written words here with me because both live in the deepest regions of my soul. One day Enfys will need them. She will then be able to look through her personal collection of things that she will have acquired through her years and be comforted by those 14 words, which will still be guarded by our shared tiger. When she reads them she will hear it roar:
"I am a better
And more loving
Human being, with
each new day's passage."
[The writer is a prisoner in the United States. He welcomes letters commenting on his columns. At present, he is being held under difficult conditions awaiting a resentencing trial and would appreciate letters. He can be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, Aka Wilbur May, ID39359, POD-A, Cobb country Sheriff's Office, Adult Detention Facility, PO Box 100110, Marietta GA 30008, USA. If you can help by contributing to his defence fund or in other ways, please contact Australians Against Executions, PO Box 640, Milson's Point NSW 2061. Fax (02) 9427 9489. Cheques can be made payable to "Brandon Astor Jones Defence Fund".]