Editor’s note: On Tuesday, Jan. 30, the New York City Council voted to override Mayor Eric Adams’ veto, successfully banning almost all forms of solitary confinement in New York City.
In this week’s parshah, the Israelites experience two peak moments of liberation, with a valley of uncertainty and doubt in between. Pharaoh has let them go. But then he changes his mind and gives chase, hemming the people in against the Red Sea. As readers of Torah, we anticipate that the sea will split and the Israelites will triumph; but in the moment, they don’t yet know how the story will end.
This kind emotional whiplash is familiar to many in New York City who are fighting to end mass incarceration. We are celebrating a major win: At the end of December, the City Council approved Intro 549, a bill to ban almost all solitary confinement in NYC, with an overwhelming majority. But mere hours before the bill was to become law last week, Mayor Eric Adams issued a veto. The challenge is clear: Can New Yorkers and their representatives see this veto overturned?
This victory was a long time coming. For years, survivors of solitary confinement, affected families, and advocates have carried this bill, pushing it through repeated legislative cycles and administrations. And that brings me to a moment early in this week’s parshah before the sea was crossed, before victory was complete:
And Moses took with him the bones of Joseph, who had exacted an oath from the children of Israel, saying, “God will be sure to take notice of you; then you shall carry up my bones from here with you.” (Exodus 13:19)
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I often find myself turning back to the Joseph story, particularly his early experiences with incarceration and isolation: first in a desert pit, alone until his brothers sell him into slavery, then in an Egyptian jail after a false accusation by Potiphar’s wife. While he lived his entire adult life in Egypt, his deathbed wish was to be brought back to the Land of Israel. (Genesis 50:24-26) The rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud inquire:
The Gemara asks: And from where did Moses our teacher know where Joseph was buried? The Sages said: Serach, the daughter of Asher, remained from that generation that initially descended to Egypt with Jacob. Moses went to her and said to her: Do you know anything about where Joseph is buried? She said to him: The Egyptians fashioned a metal casket for him and set it in the Nile River as a charm so that its water would be blessed. Moses went and stood on the bank of the Nile. He said to Joseph: Joseph, Joseph, the time has arrived about which the Holy Blessed One took an oath saying that I (i.e., God) will redeem you. And the time for fulfillment of the oath that you administered to the Jewish people that they will bury you in Eretz Yisrael has arrived. If you show yourself, it is good, but if not, we are clear from your oath. Immediately, the casket of Joseph floated to the top of the water. (Sotah 13a)
I often say that in my role as T’ruah’s New York Rabbinic Organizer, I don’t perform many funerals. Instead, I attend a lot of emergency rallies. Our longtime partners at the HALT Solitary and Jails Action Coalitions hold an emergency public gathering each time there is a death on Rikers Island. And all too often, these tragic losses are connected directly to the human rights violation that is solitary confinement. People detained at Rikers have died from lack of access to their regular medication, neglect during medical emergencies, and self-inflicted injuries — all while enduring a treatment that is recognized by the UN as a gross violation of human rights.
When I show up at these emergency protests and want a Jewish text to share, I reach for this scene of Joseph’s metal coffin buried in the Nile. In death, Joseph is once again incarcerated and isolated from his people in a small, cold, hidden, dark box. And I’ve learned from the folks we organize alongside how powerful it is to make sure those we’ve lost in this struggle, like Joseph, are still present with us, how we must actively seek to make their memories a blessing.
One moment stands out in particular: A few months ago, a HALT and JAC rally in support of Intro 549 fell on Layleen Polanco’s (z”l) birthday. A young trans woman of color, Layleen was held in solitary and denied medical care when she had a seizure — recordings have since emerged of officers taunting her as she struggled, rather than coming to her aid. One coalition member named Candie Hailey, a survivor of torture and solitary on Rikers, brought cupcakes and arrived at the rally wearing a sweatshirt emblazoned with Layleen’s image. As we concluded our action, she passed out the cupcakes not only to coalition members but to the media who had gathered to cover the event, and insisted that we sing happy birthday in Layleen’s honor. This, to me, is what Moses and Serach do for Joseph. He did not live to see liberation, but those who did made it their mission to make sure he was not left behind. At the moment when his descendants burst into song on the shore anticipating liberation, they made every effort to bring Joseph along with them.
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Like the Israelites, we cannot move toward this moment of liberation without those we’ve lost. There is a deep and abiding power in saying to those who have died as a result of solitary confinement, “The moment of redemption has arrived! And we are bringing you with us.” This is the promise our partners have made with every phone call, every lobby meeting, every backroom negotiation to get this bill passed. We cannot bring back those we lost, but we can sanctify their memories by continuing to fight for a city that is dedicated to human rights for all.
The New York City Council and Speaker Adrienne Adams have committed to bringing Intro 549 up for a veto override vote in the coming days. Whether or not you live in New York, you can use this tool from our partners at HALT Solitary Coalition to make your voice heard and demand an end to solitary confinement.
Rabbi Margo Hughes-Robinson is T’ruah’s New York Rabbinic Organizer.