Joan

 There are as many approaches to spending time in a jail cell after being arrested for civil disobedience as there are people, but there are some common patterns.  There are high-energy activists who keep chanting and even stomping even in the holding cells, not my favorite because the vibrations and sound reverberate through the whole cellblock.  There are antsy activists who stay in motion, even some who climb the bars.  There are new activist who might be anxious, hovering close to more experienced folks asking a lot of questions.  Then there are high drama activists, who spend the whole time going on about their medical needs and what might happen if we are held long enough that they miss a medication.  At the extreme end of this are those that wind up getting carted off to the ER, because that is the only way to get access to medication while in police custody, unless you somehow smuggle it in, which I have also seen.  Winding up in the ER means both spending hours handcuffed to a bed or chair, but also delays the processing of your case.

Raising a ruckus about a medical situation is one thing if someone is injured during the action or the arrest, or has a sudden medical crisis, but as a person with chronic medical conditions, I think you have to make a decision -either you can’t take a bust, which is a valid choice – or you decide to do it and accept that  you are going to go without meds, etc and just push through it.

Personally, I prefer people who are calm and sit quietly or share stories in a holding cell. 






This made Joan Pleune one of my favorite people to get arrested with. She was a no-drama, solid solidarity presence at any action.  During the many DC battles during the first Trump administration (over the ACA, Kavanaugh, the Tax Bill etc), activists from around the country would converge at a church to get prepped for that day’s action.  The mass of people would often be divided into smaller groups with specific goals and whenever I spotted Joan’s grey curls amid the crowd, I would make a beeline for her so that we would be in the same arrest group.

Born in 1939, Joan was 22 years old and a student at UC Berkley  when she took part in the historic Freedom Rides in June of 1961.  She was arrested in Jackson, Mississippi and was still getting arrested in her senior years as part of the Raging Grannies.  After an action at Aetna, our group was mostly offered ACDs but I was not.  Joan turned hers down to stay in solidarity with me, a level of commitment to solidarity that is not common.

Sitting in various cells, Joan told me stories of actions from the past, but also practical tips like getting her daughter, a doctor, to prescribe Lomotil so that she could avoid needing to poop in jail.  I worried when she told me she was hospitalized with COVID, but she came through that and kept on fighting, but I hadn’t seen her recently when word came that she was gone on August 18th.  I hope I can live my life like hers, still fighting for justice until the end.

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