Two making a difference
A former prostitute and an exiled Burundian are honored as fighters for human rights and judicial system reforms
WHEN she walked out of prison, Kathryn GriffinGriñán only had a dirty wife-beater shirt, duct-taped high heels, half a dollar bill, a penny and a nickel to her name.
But from these few possessions, she managed to build a new life, transforming from prostitute to victims’ advocate. Today, she stands at a podium wearing a sharp gold and ivory dress as she prepares to speak to influential community leaders such as U.S. Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee and Harris County Commissioner Rodney Ellis.
Surrounded by the black canvases that give the Rothko Chapel a certain reverence, there is a nervous anticipation in the air as the crowd waits for the 2017 Oscar Romero Awards Ceremony to begin. The space is uncharacteristically crowded this recent Sunday with friends, family and members of the public who have come to watch social rights activists Pierre Claver Mbonimpa and Griñán receive the award for their work combating mass incarceration.
The biennial Oscar Romero Award was named after the archbishop of San Salvador, a human rights activist who fought for social justice and equality. He was assassinated March 24, 1980,
“Sometimes it’s necessary to lose your life in order to defend human rights” Pierre Claver Mbonimpa
because of his vocal opposition to violence.
The biennial award is given by the Rothko Chapel to two award recipients, one international and one local. Ashley Clemmer, director of programs and community engagement at the Rothko Chapel, said Mbonimpa and Griffin-Griñán have been chosen because they embody the spirit of the award.
“Both Pierre and Kathryn have not only had a direct impact by being on the ground working with those directly affected by the system, but they also have started organizations and are working on a larger policy level,” Clemmer said. “They have both put their lives and reputations at risk and despite all they have been through, not only continue to fight, but empower others to stand up for human rights.”
Mbonimpa and Griffin-Griñán differ in terms of their background and temperament. Yet, both are united in their fight for human rights and commitment to reforming the judicial system. Not only have they become advocates for their causes, they are leaders who defend those who cannot help themselves.
Pierre Claver Mbonimpa
At first, Mbonimpa’s tall frame can be intimidating as he seems to tower over most of the people he meets. At age 68, his calm, articulate nature lives up to his moniker as “the grandfather of Burundi’s social justice movement.” He answers questions intently, with a special kind of thoughtfulness, occasionally pausing to collect his thoughts.
He is a man who is beloved by his fellow Burundi countrymen for his vocal denouncement of the government’s human rights violations. Whenever Mbonimpa visited prisons, before he was exiled from Burundi, inmates quickly would surround him to interact with the man who has become an inspiring symbol of hope for the nation.
Mbonimpa was first recruited to be a police officer in 1993 by a new democratically elected government that was committed to include members of all three major ethnic groups: Hutus, Tutsis and Twa. But with another regime change, his association with the previous administration caused him to be falsely accused by government officials of carrying an illegal weapon.
It was the mistreatment he experienced in prison for two years that motivated Mbonimpa to create his nonprofit, the Association for the Protection of Human Rights and Detained Persons.
As it has grown, the nonprofit has celebrated major milestones. Mbonimpa wants to make Burundian trials public so that they could be covered by the media and so that decisions would be made transparently. In 2003, the trial for suspects accused in the murder of a Burundi representative of the World Health Organization was broadcast through speakers so people inside and outside the court could hear what was being said, including journalists who could report the information. Mbonimpa also was motivated by the reduction in torture from 2009 to 2015, after his human rights organization successfully advocated that specific crimes be included in the penal code.
However, the progress Mbonimpa has made in Burundi has not been without difficulty. Although the government has always been displeased with his vocal criticism, the regime became increasingly intolerant in 2014. After Mbonimpa criticized the formation of an armed youth militia associated with the ruling party, he was imprisoned again. During this time, Mbonimpa relied on the support of human rights activists and supporters who visited him daily in jail, demanding his release. Mbonimpa had international support, including President Barack Obama who mentioned him in a speech in September 2014.
Mbonimpa also has endured the assassination of his son and son-in-law and an attempt on his own life. On Aug. 3, 2015, he was shot in the head by an unidentified gunman. He was rushed to Belgium for special treatment. Doctors there could not explain how he survived.
Although Mbonimpa recognizes he has gone through “terrible things,” he believes the sacrifice is worth it.
“Sometimes it’s necessary to lose your life in order to defend human rights,” Mbonimpa said. “All human rights defenders face risk. If you give up because of the risks, then nothing will change.”
Mbonimpa said he finds the courage to carry on from his faith in God and the work of fellow human rights activists. Most of all, he’s inspired by the rights of his fellow Burundians. He gesticulates as he talks about the way he believes Burundi can break out of its cyclical violence and division.
“It’s about having enough people who are willing to speak out and not accept the status quo,” Mbonimpa said. “You need a committed group of people who are not willing to be bystanders, who are committed to justice instead of the justice system, who will break the cycle of violence.”
Despite being exiled from Burundi, Mbonimpa continues to run his organization from afar in Belgium. Not only does he travel globally to build alliances in countries like Canada and the United States, but he works with his nonprofit to publish a monthly report of human rights violations in Burundi.
Mbonimpa continues to have great hope for his native country. He is excited that the International Criminal Court recently committed to an investigation of the Burundian government.
Tony Tate, program officer for Sub-Saharan Africa at The Fund for Global Human Rights, is part of the organization that nominated Mbonimpa for the Oscar Romero Award. He has known Mbonimpa since 1999 when he helped found the Burundi human rights organization, working closely with Mbonimpa while visiting prisons and collecting data on injustices in the prison system. When asked about the organization’s progress, Tate credits Mbonimpa for his defense of human rights and his commitment to speaking the truth.
“Pierre is one of the rare individuals who is not reticent to denounce crimes committed against anyone, by any regime,” Tate said. “He has a gravitas that people respond to, a measured way that he speaks about what’s going on and truthful information in the face of a government who denies any accusations.”
Kathryn Griffin-Griñán
As the opening remarks at the Rothko Chapel introduce Griffin-Griñán, a group of women fill the back rows, hooting and hollering while waving pink pom-poms and shouting “We love you, Kathryn.”
This effusive display of appreciation for Griffin-Griñán seems fitting for a woman who has invested so much of her life speaking passionately on the behalf of other men and women. Griffin-Griñán operates her own nonprofit called We’ve Been There, Done That. Based in Houston, the organization works to rehabilitate victims of sex trafficking and prostitution, rather than placing them in the prison system.
Over the past 14 years, Griffin-Griñán has worked with around 10,000 men, women and transgendered people. The rehabilitation program coordinates with the court system and law enforcement. From her own experience as a prostitute, Griffin-Griñán understands what these men and women have gone through.
She said it all started with her being sexually abused as a child. At age 14, Griffin-Griñán began a relationship with a professional athlete. He charmed her, making her blind to the fact that she was in an abusive relationship.
“I kept telling myself that he didn’t rape me,” Griffin-Griñán said. “But I didn’t understand that being sexually active doesn’t make you an adult.”
Later, she had a hard time fitting in when she left her hometown in Mississippi to attend Texas Southern University. Struggling to find herself, Griffin-Griñán noticed that college boys were not interested in her because they thought she was too mature. Then in her third year of college, she entered the music industry and developed a $30,000-a-month crack cocaine addiction, which caused her to turn to prostitution for money.
Griffin-Griñán needed to hit rock bottom — facing her sixth prostitution charge with a possible 35-year sentence — to recognize that she needed to turn her life around. However, the rehabilitation centers she had gone to previously didn’t address the deeper issues of sexual abuse and molestation that led her to prostitution.
“I was a wounded bird who needed good, solid rehabilitation and understanding,” Griffin-Griñán said. “I needed to understand that I was still worthy of the chance to live a successful life.”
Rather than completing her sentence in jail, a judge gave her the option to go through the Harris County Jail’s STAR. It was only when she went through the addiction recovery program that Griffin-Griñán felt like she was getting the help she needed.
After successfully completing the program, she walked out of prison and was determined to start over. Then Griffin-Griñán was hired by Peter Brown to join his campaign for city council as an outreach director. She earned only $500 a month, which she used to get an apartment and then relied on royalties from the song her father produced with Marvin Gaye — “Let’s Get It On” — to buy her first house.
Four years into her sobriety, she married Jose Griñán — senior anchor at the local Fox News station. They joined their two families (his two daughters and her three daughters), and she now has three grandchildren.
Griffin-Griñán is committed to helping others overcome obstacles she once faced. For her, it’s important to address the underlying issues of molestation or abuse that often lead to a life of prostitution and drug abuse. She believes this is the only way for someone to break out of these toxic addictions.
“There is an underlying layer of why people are getting high to ignore the hurt and the pain,” Griffin-Griñán said. “You’ve got to address these issues openly, rather than suffering in silence and pain.”
These days, Griffin-Griñán also reflects on the influence of her upbringing. Although she was loved and supported by her adoptive parents, Griffin-Griñán never felt she deserved everything that had been given to her. After learning that she was adopted at age 26, she located her biological father, Ed Townsend, who produced “Let’s Get It On.” Griffin-Griñán found that he, too, suffered from a serious drug addiction, which helped her to understand her own experience.
Everyday, Griffin-Griñán wakes up at 4 a.m. when she begins receiving calls from the many people who depend on her: prostitutes working to get off the street, pimps trying to get away from the sex industry and parents hoping to save their children from prostitution.
For some, it might be difficult to understand the addictive nature of the sex industry, but Griffin-Griñán points out that it comes down to feeling ashamed and not wanting to ask for help.
“In the sex industry, there are dark secrets that we harbor that keep us sick, embarrassed and ashamed, that we don’t want others to know,” Griffin-Griñán said.
Although the cases she faces can be overwhelming, Griffin-Griñán continues to work in hopes that she will no longer have to save a 9-year-old child from a strip club or go to court with 15-year-olds who have been convicted of prostitution. She hopes that We Been There, Done That can become the kind of program that recycles students so that they return to become peer coaches and help others. Griffin-Griñán understands the importance of having mentors.
Griffin-Griñán has mentored many women like Matilda Saragosa, who have returned to help the organization that supported them when they were in need. Saragosa met Griffin-Griñán four years ago when she enrolled in the We Been There, Done That program. She had been arrested six times in 10 years because of prostitution and drug addiction. However, the program helped her to deal with the deeper issues of molestation and rape.
Once she was released from prison and graduated from the program, Saragosa volunteered for the the court’s STAR program and was hired three years later. She also is the project coordinator for We Been There, Done That, helping with community outreach. Saragosa chooses to give back because she recognizes how Griffin-Griñán’s mentorship has impacted her life.
“I’m so honored and proud,” Saragosa said. “I could not have picked a better mentor. I have come from standing in front of a judge to standing alongside Kathryn in the courtroom taking notes.”