Crack Cocaine and the War on Drugs
How blackness and criminality still go hand in hand
By Miranda Corral
The Progressive Teen Staff Writer
WHEN RICHARD NIXON DECLARED THE “WAR ON DRUGS” IN 1971, the world’s view on crime, race, and drug use changed forever. In 1979, one quarter of Americans aged 12 to 17 (24 percent), nearly half of 18 to 25 year olds (47 percent), and nearly one in ten of those age 26 and older (9 percent), had used marijuana at least once during the previous year (NIDA, 1989). Although the drug use by blacks was equal, if not less, to the use of drugs by their white counterparts, politicians found a lucrative way to win over the hearts (or more importantly, votes) of those who did not quite believe that their American dream should include a black man potentially being their boss.
Ronald Reagan tapped into media hysteria over a new smokeable form of cocaine called crack. The use of crack cocaine happened to be more present in black communities, as it was cheaper and more readily accessible than its closely related — and almost chemically identical — cousin, powder cocaine. Being more costly, powder cocaine was more prominent in white communities, where it had a significant presence.
Due to the racial disparity between the two forms, crack cocaine was an easy target for politicians to latch onto and vilify beyond necessary means, teaching Americans to associate the use of crack cocaine with blackness. Since the two became almost synonymous, politicians and media were able to attack crack cocaine — and blackness — like the enemy that many of the voters they needed believed it was. Soon, harsh mandatory minimums were instated; it took 100 times as much powder cocaine as crack cocaine to receive the same 5, 10, or 20 year mandatory minimum prison term.
“Due to the racial disparity between the two forms, crack cocaine was an easy target for politicians to latch onto and vilify beyond necessary means, teaching Americans to associate the use of crack cocaine with blackness.”
America’s so-called “drug crisis” became the favorite dog whistle of every politician. Criminals, being literally the only group that society finds acceptable to openly hate, became more and more black and brown, as jails filled with people swept up in the drug war, locked away for years and years based off of harsh, racially motivated sentencing.
Many, once released, are rewarded with a new branding: the burning name of a felon.
With a felony, many of the most important aspects of the democracy that we live in disintegrate — government education, housing, food, and medical programs all can be revoked. The right to vote is taken away. Boxes on job applications ask if the applicant has ever had a felony, and work opportunities slowly slip away as employers stop reading the application then and there. In this new world — that of second-class status — ex-prisoners are forced with an unimaginable set of hurdles to overcome, just to even have a chance at having a successful and happy life.
Black men are over 10 times more likely to end up in prison than white men. Blackness is still equated with criminality. While the racism of this system of mass incarceration has been recognized by many people, and reforms have taken place regarding the way our prison systems and laws work, this system of mass racial control (staggeringly similar to previous systems such as Jim Crow) is a massive problem largely ignored by Americans.
On a larger scale than examining this system of control, an even bigger problem that needs to be addressed is our country’s pattern of instating systems of racial control, demolishing them, and then creating new ones to take their place. Taking a step back and taking the time to educate ourselves on these issues is the first step toward building a society that does not turn a blind eye to these devastating issues, and it is a step that desperately needs to be taken.
