For the past 54 years, Thomas ‘Tahaka’ Gaither has lived behind bars as a political prisoner. A former member of the Black Panther Party Baltimore Chapter, Gaither was a close associate of ‘Marshall’ Eddie Conway Jr., who spent his last years as host of Rattling the Bars. Although Gaither was released on parole decades ago, he was forced to return to prison in the late 1990s when Gov. Glendering revoked parole for anyone who had received a life sentence. Tahaka Gaither and his daughter, Tara, return to Rattling the Bars to discuss his life, their family’s shared struggle to release Tahaka and live on in spite of the prison system, and what Tahaka’s incarceration has meant for generations of his family.
Studio Production: David Hebden, Cameron Granadino
Post-Production: Cameron Granadino
Transcript
The following is a rushed transcript and may contain errors. A proofread version will be made available as soon as possible.
Mansa Musa:
Welcome to this edition of Rattling The Bars. I’m your host, Mansa Musa. Joining me today via phone and in the studio as well via phone is a comrade of mine, Thomas Gaither, better known as Tahaka.
Tahaka is a political prisoner in every sense of the word. Tahaka is a former Black Panther. When we was in the Maryland Penitentiary, we had a collective called the Maryland Pen Intercommunal Survivor Collective, which was patterned after the Black Panther Party under the leadership and guide of Eddie Conway. Tahaka spent a numerous amount of years on lockup for allegedly being involved in an assault on an officer, along with Eddie and four other comrades.
Tahaka, welcome to Rattling The Bars. Hey Tahaka, tell our audience a little bit about yourself.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Like the brother said, my name is Tahaka, as you know. And I’m a member of the original Black Panther Party under the leadership of Marshall Eddie Conway, one of the Maryland Penitentiary Five, which included Eddie Conway. That’s my rap buddy. You know?
And I met Eddie when we first went in the penitentiary around the same time, man, about 54 years ago. I was a kid. Eddie just went and he mentored me. You know that. You know I was his right-hand man the whole time we were there.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
You know. Yes indeed. So I’m just sitting here, like I said, I’ve been here for 54 years now since 1970, trying to get my freedom. And like Mansa Musa said, I’m definitely a political prisoner.
Mansa Musa:
Oh, you political prisoner in every sense of the word. Hey, Tahaka, walk us through those 55 years, more importantly, about where you was at in that process, because we need our audience to understand-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Okay. All right.
Mansa Musa:
We need our audience to understand that-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Well-
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Where you was at, what went on through that 55 years.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Okay. Well, in 1970, at the age of 19, I entered the Maryland State Penitentiary in East Baltimore. Maximum security prison, the only maximum security prison at the time in the state of Maryland. I was 19 years old, as I said. I went in there with a life sentence. And I was one of the first teenagers in there. Prior to that, it wasn’t like it is today where everywhere you look it’s a bunch of youthful guys-
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
… teenagers, 18, 19 years old. Back then I was like, I think it was only one other prisoner in there that was my age. It was like coming into the belly of the beast. I had never into a situation like that before. And the Maryland Penitentiary at that time was known as one of the most dangerous prisons in the United States.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Not just in the state of Maryland. You know? It had a death row. It had a death row chair in there, and death row inmates. Maryland was unique in the fact that; and you know, because you was there; that the death row inmates, they circulated with everybody. They weren’t isolated like in other prisons. And some of my nearest and dearest comrades was on there, like Sam Feeney. You know?
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
He mentored me. Sam Feeney took me under his wing when I first went in there.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
And Soldier Gerald Ditt right there with you. My comrades. These guys, they raised me. They raised me up.
At that time when I entered the penitentiary, Eddie Conway was still in Baltimore City Jail waiting to be tried on the trumped-up charges. But they charged him with a shootout, with assassinating an officer that wounded another officer; an incident where he wasn’t even present at the time. And they railroaded him to get him off the street because of his political influence in the community and his leadership.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
But he was at City Jail at the time and I was in the penitentiary. So we were waiting on Eddie to come in. When I went in the pen, they had a small cadre of Black Panthers in the penitentiary and under the leadership of Rob Kasa-Vubu Folks. Do you remember Kasa-Vubu?
Mansa Musa:
Yes, sir.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
And Eddie wrote about him in his book, which the Marshall Law. I think it was in the second book that he wrote, Life of a Baltimore Black Panther, because Kasa-Vubu was running the party at the time. So I had met Eddie prior to coming into penitentiary. He came to my community with a group of Panthers. They were on a fundraising drive. They were selling Black Panther papers and Free Huey buttons and stuff like that. And they came to my neighborhood. And my mother invited him in and gave him some Kool-Aid and some cookies and stuff and bought some pens and some papers.
That’s when I met him, but I wasn’t to see him again until after that incidental play. They had him over there on court side in Baltimore City Jail. They subsequently railroaded him and found him guilty and gave him a life sentence, something like life and 30 years and put him in the penitentiary. So his mission at that time was to organize the brothers in penitentiary. And he took over leadership from Rob Folks. And you know, the rest is history, man. You know. You was there. I remember when you came through.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. You recruited-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
You remember when you came through-
Mansa Musa:
You recruited me. You recruited me.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Huh?
Mansa Musa:
You recruited me.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yes, I did.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah, I remember you came-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
I remember like it was yesterday, man.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Hey, Tahaka, tell-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yeah. How old were you?
Mansa Musa:
I was 19 when I came in there. I came there two years after-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yeah. Yeah, I think you-
Mansa Musa:
I came in there I think a year after you came in there. Or two years. Hey. Hey, Tahaka.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yeah.
Mansa Musa:
Okay-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
And so I was given… Yes, sir?
Mansa Musa:
Nah. Okay. Now, you’ve been locked up all this time, right? Talk about how you was at one point in time during your incarceration or your imprisonment or enslavement that you was allowed to go out and be on work release. Talk about that period where you was out working on the street.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Okay. Well, all right. Well, what happened last year most was I stayed in the penitentiary for like 14 and a half years. And during that time I basically grew up in… I was 19 years old when I went in. But the Black Panther Party always taught us to seek higher education. So I got my GED, I went to college, I got my Bachelor’s of Science degree in Sociology. And I went up for a transfer from maximum security trying to get to medium security.
But the warden said that as long as I was in the college program, he was going to keep me there until I graduated. So I wound up staying almost 15 years. I graduated from Coppin State University with a Bachelor’s of Science degree. And after 14 and a half years, they sent me to the Maryland House of Correction, which is medium security. So I progressed from maximum to medium. So that was in 1984. I went into pen in 1970, and 1984 they finally transferred me to the Maryland House of Correction medium security institution. And I went in there. And, you know, the House of Correction was “The Cut” as it was called at the time.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
They tore it down since then. They had a reputation in there too. That was a very tough prison. You know? But at this time, I mean, I grew up in the penitentiary, so everybody basically knew who I was. They knew me. And I went in there and I started programming in medium security, trying to get to minimum security.
And eventually they sent Eddie Conway [inaudible 00:08:33] me and Eddie were in there together. And we were running a self-help organization called South Incorporated. And after five years in the Maryland House of Correction under medium security, they transferred me to minimum security. And I was [inaudible 00:08:51]. So I went from maximum to medium to minimum. And so in 1984 to The Cut after, and then 1989 is when I went through pre-release system. Stayed in the pre-release system for four and a half years, from ’84 to ’89 when I made a work release status in pre-release.
And I was basically on the street, man. I was coming out every day going to work. I started working on the road through and cleaning trash and trimming trees and going all this stuff, you know, on the highway stuff. And finally they reduced my sentence. Well, they didn’t reduce my sentence, but they reduced my status from minimum security to pre-release. And I received work release, which is the highest status you can get in the pre-release system.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yes, sir.
Mansa Musa:
All right now. Okay. So we talking… I just wanted the audience to get a nice overview of you so they can understand who you are as a person and more importantly who you are as a man. This show is primarily about Father’s Day. And I got your lovely daughter here, Tara, who is your wingman, so to speak.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yes, sir.
Mansa Musa:
Every time I would tell Tara, I say… Every time I’m trying to do something for you or around you, I say, “I’ll call one of your family members, right?” And they’ll say, “Oh yeah, okay, yeah I got somebody.” And they’ll put Tara. And look, Tara might be-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
[inaudible 00:10:33].
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Tara might be on… Look, Tara might be getting ready to work. Tara might be… Look, we was on the phone, and they say, “Tara can you come in?” She say, “When?” “This time.” And she’d be like… You could hear her calculating in her head. “Oh well, yeah, I’m going to take off…” Yeah. Because of her father. But, Tahaka, talk about how old was Tara when you left the street?
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Hey, Mansa Musa, when I left the street, Tara was one. She was 1-year-old. She was 1-year-old, man. You know? The sweetest little girl, man. And it just broke my heart, man, to have to leave her and her mother and coming to the penitentiary. But you know I had no control over it. But she was 1. And-
Mansa Musa:
And look-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
One thing I can tell you, man, my mother… You know my mother.
Mansa Musa:
Oh, I already know-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
You met my mother before, right?
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Your mother was a soldier. Your mother was a soldier. Yeah.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yes indeed.
Mansa Musa:
Hey-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
So my mother would bring Tara every week to see me [inaudible 00:11:37]-
Mansa Musa:
That’s right. Yeah, yeah. And look, I remember when you used to talk about it when… I was down at Cut with y’all for a minute till I tried to escape, but I remember-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yeah. I remember.
Mansa Musa:
Every time we was around each other, right? Because we comrade. We family for real. We be talking about each other. And I remember we used to always talk-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
We family. We definitely family.
Mansa Musa:
I remember we used to always talk about Tara. Hey, Tahaka, you proud of Tara?
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Oh man, you know I’m proud of my daughter, man. She’s beautiful. She grew up to be an outstanding young lady. She’s beautiful. Her morals are tight. She raised her family. She has two beautiful daughters and she raised them. And each of her daughters had four children. She helped to raise them. And the family is just beautiful. She held the family together. And she’s been by me, she’s been by my side the whole time. Like I said, my mother would bring her every week after church. She would bring her without fail to visit me. You know? And any time we had a function or a social or something at the prison, Tara was there.
And when she started having children, she brought her children. And when her children started having children, they brought them. So you’re talking like three generations. Tara, her children, and her grandchildren. All three generations were raised up coming through these prisons to see Pop-pop.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right. Hey, Tara-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
We have a strong family, man.
Mansa Musa:
Hey, Tahaka, I got her right here. Look. She look like she’s getting ready to cry too. Look. Hey, Tara, talk about-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
She better not cry.
Mansa Musa:
Okay.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
She know we don’t do no crying.
Mansa Musa:
Talk about… Your father just said that your grandmother, which I knew… Matter of fact your grandmother was like… We called your grandmother the collective mother. Seriously. Because every time we got packages she would bring… Like, whoever couldn’t afford family ain’t afford no package, she would give packages. She would make sure Tahaka had more than enough stuff. And basically we always broke down and shared. But she was always in that space.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
That’s right.
Mansa Musa:
As far as like… We called her the collective mother. Talk about that experience, your grandmother bring you over to see your father and all those years, what kind of impact did that have on you?
Tara Gaither:
I think that if it weren’t for my grandmother that I would not have the relationship and bond with my father that I had because she was bringing me to the penitentiary. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew that I was going to see my father and I knew that… I mean, back then when you look at the penitentiary, it just looked to me like a big old castle.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah, that’s right.
Tara Gaither:
So I thought that I was going to this big… I mean, I can remember sliding down the brass staircase when I was little. But if it wasn’t for my grandmother, I owe a whole lot to my grandmother for keeping me in contact and making sure that I knew who my father was and that I had a bond with him.
Mansa Musa:
Right. And then he also talked about… And that right there, if you pass that on, that became like a thing with you, with your children to make sure they knew who their grandfather was. Why was that important?
Tara Gaither:
It was just a natural thing that, to me, that this is my father and this is my children’s grandfather. So they ought to be just as tight with him as I am. And the same thing with my grandchildren. I brought my grandchildren when they were first born to see my father. You know? And so my grandchildren know who Pop-pop is. Even down to the youngest, the two-year-old, she knows who Pop-pop is.
Mansa Musa:
And Tara, Tahaka talked about how long he’d been locked up, and the fact that at one point in time he was actually going out on the street. When he was going out back and forth on the street, did y’all have contact?
Tara Gaither:
We were in contact. I actually was coming… I never stopped going to visit him. I was actually coming up to Jessup Pre-Release Unit to visit my dad. So yeah, I was seeing him. I don’t remember a time in my life that no matter where he was, even when he had been to Hagerstown that I didn’t see him. If I was old enough to drive, I knew how to get in the car and turn the key and get up the highway.
Audio:
You have 60 seconds remaining.
Mansa Musa:
And for the benefit of our audience-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
You hear me?
Mansa Musa:
… Tahaka, you get ready. They’re getting ready to cut you off, right?
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Yeah, they getting ready to cut me off, man.
Mansa Musa:
Okay.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
But I just want to say, man, I want to thank y’all for these Father’s Day programs, man. It means a lot to me, as well all the other guys in here. They know about… I told them what was going on, man. Most of them love you and they respect you, bro. But Tara, God bless you. And you always-
Audio:
You have 30 seconds remaining.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
We got a saying, “Every day is Mother’s Day, every day is Father’s Day.” You understand? We don’t just wait one time a year to celebrate.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right. That’s right.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
All right, man.
Mansa Musa:
All right, comrade.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
You all carry on, man. God bless you, man.
Mansa Musa:
All right, comrade. Yeah. And Tara, look-
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
All right. I love you, man. Told you I love you folks.
Mansa Musa:
All right. Love you too, comrade.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
Tara, you be good. You be safe.
Tara Gaither:
I will.
Thomas “Tahaka” Gaither:
I’ll talk to you later, Tara.
Tara Gaither:
Okay.
Mansa Musa:
And Tara, like you say… Now he getting ready to go off. But let’s talk. Let’s talk about how your father, your impact your father had. And we know because he, even by his own admission, he already say how he feel about… You know. So that’s no question about how he view you and your growth and your maturation and coming into your womanhood.
Talk about what influenced, how he influenced that, the person you are today. Because remember, he say you was, what, one years old? So talk about them, that experience, the influence he has on you to be the woman that you are today. What type of influence did he have on you?
Tara Gaither:
A large impact basically because after a certain time my grandmother wasn’t taking me to see my father, but I still had a desire in me to have a relationship with him. So even as a teenager, as soon as I was able to get in by myself, I was there. And it was important. And it was a time in the middle when I was older and on the weekends I wanted to be with my friends or whatever, whatever. So I wasn’t always at my grandmother’s house. So that was at the point where it was really important because he never left me, because he continued to… I was getting them phone calls. And sometimes I can remember when my father was in The Cut, we would talk on the phone all day just chilling, sitting back-
Mansa Musa:
I remember. I remember.
Tara Gaither:
… on a summer day-
Mansa Musa:
I remember
Tara Gaither:
… you know, chilling, talking to my dad. And I have the kind of relationship with him where I can tell him anything and he can tell me anything. So it was important to be able to have that bond. It’s important to be able to have… Every child needs a father.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah.
Tara Gaither:
And I needed my father. And I seen some stats where it said that children that grow up with their fathers incarcerated, it affects them more than if their parent were dead. And that’s some serious stuff right there. But it’s up to you what you want it to be.
Mansa Musa:
And that right there, that’s the part of this system that is designed to do that. It’s designed to create that mentality in the family, that if your loved one is… And on the plantation, talking about be dead or she dead, but the fact that by your own admission and the reality is that he said he never left you because, like he said on early, you heard him when he left, when he got locked up, it hurt him to have to leave you. And that right there drove him to say, “That no matter what, I’m going to make sure that my daughter know that I’m her father. I’ll make sure that my daughter know that… Treat me like your father. Look at me like I’m your father. Don’t look at me where I’m at. Look at me as your parent under these circumstances.”
And in terms of that right there, what do you tell other children of parents that are in incarcerated? What do you tell them that might be struggling with that? What do you tell them? Because you’re an example of what to do or how to maintain or how to process it by your example of that.
Tara Gaither:
The sad realization of being a person whose parent is incarcerated is that when you realize that it’s generational. As Black people, right now we’re striving for generational wealth. Okay? It’s this thing all about generational wealth, how to get generational wealth. But we don’t understand that incarceration is generational.
Mansa Musa:
Right.
Tara Gaither:
I have a brother, my brother has a son, my brother has been incarcerated. And we just recently found out yesterday that my nephew may be going away for a long time. You know? It is important that people know that children need their parents regardless, no matter wherever they are, whatever they did, the parenthood is so needed. It’s so needed. Just remember that they say that out of every eight children, one of those children has an incarcerated parent. That’s a lot of people. That’s a lot of children.
And then you get to the road, are you going to go this way or are you going to go that way? A lot of that depends on what you’re getting from your parent that is incarcerated. A lot of it. So my father was feeding me, my father was feeding me, “What about your grades?” You know? It’s all about doing right. What are you up to? Keeping in contact with me. On some of them summer days when I could have been out in the street doing anything, I was on the phone talking to my dad.
Mansa Musa:
Right. And you know what? And that right there, what you just say, that’s the genesis right there. That is the line and the saying what the parent that’s incarcerated do with the children. How they [inaudible 00:22:57]. And I had two people coming here interview prior to you. And both of them… One was incarcerated, dad, he out. And other one was a woman much like yourself whose father was still locked up. But all of them had the same… Going back to your point, all of them, everybody had the same perspective. He was in touch with his children while he was locked up. He made sure that he had access to them by phone. The father or the young lady, much like yourself, they got the kind of relationship that… Y’all will be mirror images. If y’all run y’all stories by side by side, y’all be remember images in terms of how much the parent that’s incarcerated made sure that they stayed in touch with their children.
And this will give me… Talk about… Maybe you want to talk about it, why you think the system don’t encourage that. Why you think the prison system is so hell bent on, oh yeah, making you feel uncomfortable when you come to visit? Like, I’m going to make you… If you had to come to Hagerstown, okay, I’m going to make it where you come, but I’m going to make it where it be so uncomfortable when you coming to see… Like, you doing something wrong by seeing your family. Or I’m going to make it like, oh, you get there, then I’m going to say like, “Ooh, visiting hours is over.” You only been there five minutes. And, like, what do you mean visit, something happened? Why do you think the system is so hell bent on stopping that and not encouraging that?
Tara Gaither:
That’s a good question because I was in the computer and I was looking up stats and I was like, “I can’t believe they got all these stats.” They know how many children have incarcerated parents. They know out of the children that who had incarcerated parents, how many ended up incarcerated. They know the effects that having incarcerated parents has on a child. They have all of this information. But I couldn’t find anywhere where they did anything positive with it.
So I sat back and wondered to myself, well, maybe they wanted the information because they wanted to use it against us. I don’t see anybody doing anything with that information to help any children that have incarcerated parents, whole families. I was the only child for my mother. But you have families where men with multiple children that nobody’s doing anything for these kids. I have any idea. I’m going to tell you. I have been to just about every visiting room in the state of Maryland. And let me tell you, the officers need to have sensitivity training. They need to be trained not to… Because they have a way of looking down on you like you are lower than them. And a lot of things that you want to say to them, you can’t say because you’re not going to get your visit.
But it is amazing how they treat the families and the children. I had one of my grandkids with me. I took her to see my father and she had barrettes in her head. They made me take her barrettes out of her hair. Family Day. She told me I couldn’t take the bottle in. I could take the pamper. What I’m going to do with a baby? This was recently. The last Family Day they had up there. What am I going to do with an infant with no bottle? I’m like, “Come on, this is ridiculous. I’ve been coming up here since I was was this age. You’re not going to tell me she can’t have a bottle. She can have a bottle.” I mean, all my grandkids have been up there.
So it depends on the government. These people that are running these institutions, they need to do something about it because what they don’t realize is that the more communication and time that people have with their families kind of tones them down a little bit.
Mansa Musa:
It does. Yeah.
Tara Gaither:
Could have a lot of problems in those facilities. If you bring the parents closer to their children, they have a reason to have hope and a reason to want to come out and do better. But if you keep them separated and the baby’s mother doesn’t want to come out because she don’t want to go through this and she doesn’t want to go through that, it just makes the whole matter worse.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. And talk about this since we are doing this Father Day show. How did you process Father Day every Father’s Day? How did you process it, if you can recall?
Tara Gaither:
For most of my life, on every Father’s Day, I was on either the highway or going somewhere to see my dad. Most Father’s Day, it got to a point where the prison stopped letting you send cards or greetings cards. So now I’m at the point where it’s just like I can’t even send them my greetings card because-
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. They won’t allow it.
Tara Gaither:
… they don’t allow it.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah, I know.
Tara Gaither:
But Father’s Day, to me, and Mother’s Day have always been pretty much the same. I spend Mother’s Day with my mother and I spend Father’s Day with my father.
Mansa Musa:
And that’s the other part of this narrative, because, like I said, I was locked up 48 years. And me and your father, like I said, that’s my comrade. He outlined that early. He recruited me when I was on [inaudible 00:28:30]. Both of us looked alike. Both of us was young, red, and big bushes. Right? So matter of fact, we look almost like twins.
Tara Gaither:
I’m sure.
Mansa Musa:
And he recruited me. And in terms of recognizing in that environment, how many parents, how many people have children that’s in that environment, how many children that don’t have that ability to see their parents. But we created Family Day. See, we created what they call function. We created family days and we created… One year we had… One time, you said like, we let adults in. We created one way to say like, okay, before we created what was known as Family Day, one organization would create for their program and say like, “We have children. A parent can come in and bring their children.”
So it always been, for us, and I’ll go on record and say this is all throughout the United States, it always been for us. Those of us that’s in constant, always have access to the community, always have access to our family, always have access to people, because we want to hold onto our humanity.
Tara Gaither:
Right.
Mansa Musa:
It’s them that’s trying to take our humanity.
Tara Gaither:
Yeah.
Mansa Musa:
It’s the system depriving us of our humanity. And for those of us that can’t process that and don’t see that, much like your father who can, 55 years, they start them out on parole, but yet he still got hope, yet he still stay… He’s the same person.
Tara Gaither:
Same person.
Mansa Musa:
You know, he’s still on the phone. He’s still talking. He’s still being the parent that he is being whoever he is in y’all family’s life being Pop-pop. You know? He’s still being there because he’s not giving up hope. But as we close out, what do you want our audience to know or viewers to know about your father and what we can do or what we should be doing to try to get him some relief?
Tara Gaither:
I don’t know if everybody heard it, but my father said that when he was incarcerated, he was 19 years old. I was a one-year-old. I am 55 years old. And I can’t think of anything that I did as a teenager when I was 19 years old that I deserve to be punished for right now.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. For 55 years. Yeah.
Tara Gaither:
For 55 years.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. Come on.
Tara Gaither:
Because I’m the same person, but I’m not the same person.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Tara Gaither:
Because when I was 19 years old, I was a 19-year-old.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. That’s right, Tara.
Tara Gaither:
You know what I’m saying? I was doing what 19-year-olds do. And I wasn’t exactly thinking the way a 55-year-old woman thinks. I can’t understand that my father is 72 years old, has been incarcerated since he was 19 years old, has come out and worked on the street and never caused anybody any problems, hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone, educated himself. Because he didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to go to school. You know? He could have have just sat there and could have figured out some trouble to make or something like that. You know what I’m saying?
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. That’s right.
Tara Gaither:
It’s a lot of things that we need to look at when we are holding people for so long. And it’s overincarceration, it’s overpunishment, and it hurts the community.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Tara Gaither:
Because my grandfather has sons out in the community. He has grandsons out in the community. And they’re having children. And he’s the patriarch since 19 years old. And he is the one person that could put his hand out and say, “Listen, you don’t want to do that.”
Mansa Musa:
Right.
Tara Gaither:
“You don’t want to do that. I’ve been there. Let me tell you what it’s like. Let me show you a better way.” But like I said, incarceration is now generational. So we need to save ourselves. Sometimes in order to save ourselves, we got to speak up and we got to say, “This is the right thing to do. This is the right thing to do.” Let that man come home, let him be with his family. Let him have contact with the young men that are in the family because maybe one of them might be going a little bit this way. Maybe he can guide him the right way.
Mansa Musa:
That’s right.
Tara Gaither:
You know? And keep him out of trouble. But to me, a 19-year-old and a 72-year-old?
Mansa Musa:
Yeah, [inaudible 00:33:26].
Tara Gaither:
What is that?
Mansa Musa:
And we want to remind our audience that we’re talking about someone who was locked up at 19 years old. Science already came out and say that at the age of between 16, 19, 24, you don’t have the memory rate or the mental capacity to have an adult make an adult decision regardless of what they say the age is. And science came out and said this. And now the Supreme Court then came out and say that because of that you have to evaluate people in this age bracket differently.
But more importantly, we’re talking to Tara Gaither, Tahaka’s daughter, better known as… His real name is Thomas Gaither, but we call him Tahaka. We’re talking to her about her father. She was one years old when he got locked up. 55 years later… She’s 55. What we want our audience to understand about this particular episode is this is a remarkable individual. One, he was out on working on the street while he was locked up. They closed down the system that he was under because of something they did, not because of something he did.
Number two, he’s an accomplished musician. He can go anywhere and play with any band anywhere in the world without missing a note. He’s an accomplished musician. That’s number two. He graduated from Coppin. He got his master’s degree. I mean bachelor’s degree. But more importantly, he has served 55 years. What more do you want from this man? We ask that you look into this case. We ask that you research this case. And we ask that you come to your senses about what you would do if you was locked up 55 years for something that you did at the age of 19. And the suspect is whether he did it or not. But at the age of 19 when it happened, we ask that you continue to look in this case and continue to support Thomas Gaither.
Tara, thank you for coming and joining us today. We really appreciate you taking your time out there to give us some insight to your father and yourself.
Tara Gaither:
Well, thank you for having me. Yeah, any time that I can let people know what’s going on, I’m right there with it. So thank you for having me. I really appreciate it.
Mansa Musa:
Yeah. And there you have it. The real news. Rattling The Bars. We ask that you continue to support Rattling The Bars because it’s only through Rattling The Bars you get this kind of information about Thomas Gaither, better known as Tahaka, or have his daughter come here and express the influence that he has on her and the generations, which she talked about generational incarceration. But he has been able to break that cycle in her family by being a positive influence in his child’s family. And he could also be a positive influence in other people’s family and be a mentor. So you only get this information from Rattling The Bars. And by the way, as far as the real news, guess what, we’re actually the real news.
This post was originally published on The Real News Network.