DEBBIE KILROY

ABOLITIONIST, LAWYER, FOUNDER OF SISTERS INSIDE

I was criminalised at the age of 13 and experienced the brunt of violence and policing in prison,

so becoming an abolitionist wasn’t hard. As long as I know other girls and women are experiencing this, I will never be free. I advocate for the abolition of the prison–industrial complex – the removal of the criminal punishment system used by the state or individuals within the state. That includes youth and adult prisons and the so-called child protection system that removes children (predominantly Aboriginal children) from their mothers. There’s no such thing as a justice system: it’s a punishment system. What does it actually mean for human beings when you are kept in a space that you cannot move out of? Is that humane? Is this how we want to treat people? It’s about defunding the violence of policing and building a different community from the ground up.

We’ve lost all ability in our community to resolve basic conflict without calling in authorities.

Even at school, as a child, if you did something wrong, you’d be sent to the principal’s office so they could deal with it. Nothing was taught to us then (and still isn’t) about basic conflict resolution, where, if you have an issue with someone, you sit down and resolve it together.

One of the big questions abolitionists always get is: what about the rapists and murderers?

And I say, “What about them? The police and prison system aren’t stopping rapists and murderers now, so why are you happy with the way things are?” We’ve got to start having conversations about how to deal with harm in our communities. Abolitionists take harm very, very seriously and address it in many ways in our communities. We were doing it as girls and then as women trying to survive in the violent prison system.

My friend was murdered beside me in prison.

We had to live there and deal with the harm and retribution of that murder. The way we did that brought us forward to start Sisters Inside, an organisation that advocates for women’s human rights in prison.

Over the years, I’ve learnt to never falter.

People will have you questioning what you’re doing, because sometimes you’re the only person at the table arguing. They will say to you, “Don’t be ridiculous. This can’t happen. You’re mad.” They will try to discredit you, because if they can do that then they maintain the status quo. For someone like me, who has been criminalised in the past, they could make a false allegation that I have committed other criminal offences. I never second-guess myself because I’m really clear on what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.

I’m active in abolishing and dismantling the prison–industrial complex, but I can't do that on my own.

I need the broader community and other formerly incarcerated women and girls who will walk beside me. That’s what’s important to me: building that community of so-called activism. There’s great work happening around the world, and I believe the next generation will stand on our shoulders, as we stood on the shoulders of brave women before us, to continue to challenge the state.

Build safety and security models within your own communities that don’t rely on the violence of policing and prisons.

Ask yourself how we can dismantle and build, and what a community without carceral mechanisms, racism, and racial capitalist structures might look like. Where Indigenous peoples have been colonised and their land stolen, give the land back to its rightful owners. Then work towards allowing communities to look after themselves in a way that’s safe and secure for them – it’s not one-model-fits-all.

We must prioritise human beings over property, because human beings are so much more than the worst thing they’ve done.

We've all done things that we’re not proud of, and we’re so much more than that one terrible thing.