Leah Faria is always taking care of people. If she’s not snuggling her five-year-old grandson on a visit to North Carolina, she’s at the Rose M. Singer Center on Riker’s Island, in the community running support groups for women and young girls or driving families to visit loved ones in prison. If she’s not planning a convening of community organizers for Columbia or City Hall, she’s doing the same for the Women’s Community Justice Association (WCJA), where she serves as Director of Community Engagement. After briefly watching the Liberty victory parade on her couch, we talked about the campaign to close Riker’s, working out with Remy Ma, and what Faith Ringgold means to her at Leah’s dinner table.
on her morning routine
Since I work overnight, I don’t really have a morning routine — when I get off my night job in the morning, I go straight to my day job. There is no separation. But I remember my routine when I was incarcerated. That is a routine that I will never forget, and I wish I could still be like that now. I would get up at maybe 5:45 am. I would drink 40 ounces of water, eat some instant oatmeal, with straight protein like sardines or octopus and black beans, and get ready for the shower. When I came out of the shower, I would drink a really strong black coffee shot — no sugar, no cream, nothing. Like mud. I’d have that so that I would have the energy to go to the gym. By 7:55 am I’d be at the door waiting for them to say “movement,” and I’m the first on the line to get my spot on the treadmill. That's how I started my day.
on growing up in Brooklyn
I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York — actually, like five blocks from where I live now in Flatbush. I always wanted to live on this block because I had a friend who lived here whose cousin was Jazzy Jeff from Fresh Prince.
I was actually born on my dad’s birthday, so I was a daddy's girl. But my dad wasn't always a nice person. He was very abusive to my mom. I tried to evade all these things, but he was still somebody I wanted to gravitate towards. I'm the middle child. My sister and I shared a room, and then my brother had his own room. We’re each three years apart. We didn't really go outside much, we just played with each other and watched cartoons on the weekend. A big reason for that was that my dad had this anger issue, so we just depended on each other.
on her favorite childhood memory
I've always had a big personality. I was outgoing and I was very much into music. I was a dancer in my elementary school — we used to go to Governors Island to perform contemporary dance. I remember four of us dancing to Nina Simone’s song, “Four Women.” That song has so many memories for me. And my dad was a musician, so I used to play with his instruments. I used to grab a spoon and sing like Diana Ross and Stephanie Mills. Music was my thing.
My favorite memory of growing up is from Christmas time. It was the eighties. I must have been 10. We didn’t get a bunch of toys and stuff, but my parents would usually get us the one thing we really wanted. We worked with what we had. I was always into music, so I wanted a radio. I got this blue radio — I can envision it so vividly to this day — and I laid on the floor and listened to it all day long.
“I went to Philippa Skylar, a gifted and talented middle school — the only one in New York. My favorite subject was science. I always looked forward to the science fairs. I used to make the volcanoes, and I made homemade butter one year. I loved being creative. I’ve always been really good in school.”
on working out in prison
When they used to say, “Oh, we don’t have coverage,” meaning there were no correctional officers who could supervise the gym, my whole day was thrown off. Because it was something I really needed. I was able to start a whole program, Grindhouse Fitness, and help other people. I used to work out like three times a day. I also used to work fire and safety, which was a physical job — rolling the hoses, opening the fire hydrants, fixing the fire extinguishers. With Grindhouse, I had an hour in the gym with the whole floor. Maybe 20 women came. When the rapper Remy Ma came through, she worked out with me.
The endorphins kept me out of trouble. That's all I focused on. I never knew how to do a push-up, then eventually I was doing Spider-Man push-ups. And I wanted to carry that over when I came home. I wanted to be a trainer for domestic violence survivors because I'm a survivor. But at the time, the industry didn't want to hire me.
on taking classes in prison
I did every program that came through the prison, like Columbia Business School’s ReEntry Acceleration Program and the women’s prison’s pilot of Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA). The Sarah Lawrence class was the best class that I took in my college career. Every week we had to write something in response to a book we read. It was an inside-out class, so the students came into the prison too. I was making them crack juice, which was like ten different kinds of Kool-Aid. It was all so memorable. We cried at the end of the class because we bonded so much.
I think that a lot of times, when you're locked up, it's like you lock us up and throw away the key. Out of sight, out of mind. Bringing classes inside gives us value. It humanizes us. We get to sit right next to somebody who’s not impacted by the system. And it's a moment to educate, to bond, to have a connection with society without being in society. That's one of the things that kept the inside students motivated. Some people didn’t have custody of their kids, their kids were in the system, they’re facing football numbers for their sentences, which means ten years or more. These classes were still something they could look forward to. People volunteered to go to school from 6 to 9 PM when they could have been doing something else for money. That opportunity made us feel like we were outside of prison. For those three hours, we felt like we were in real college, not in prison.
on her relationship with her son
My biggest inspiration is my son and my grandson. My son was one year old when I went to prison. And his father was incarcerated most of his life, too. So, he could have gone so many different ways. He was like, I use your experience to be better. And he would come on the trailer for family visits, and he would say “Because you’re here I’m gonna stick it out.” We graduated the same year. And I was always his hero, regardless of anything — he never came to me and said, why did you do what you did to go to jail? It didn't matter. And to this day, everything I do, I do for him. I only got one and we look just alike. It's just me and my son ‘til the wheels fall off. I don't care about anything else.
on family visits in prison
People used to say, how come y'all so close? Because when he moved down south while I was still incarcerated, I would only see him once a year for a trailer visit. We still reminisce about what we did on the trailers. They’re like mobile homes that are used for overnight family visits in prison. Two bedrooms, a bathroom. He would come for like four days because he lived over 250 miles away. People who lived closer got two days. He'd be like, Mom, you gotta clean my ears, you gotta wash my hair, you gotta cut my nails. And that was our routine. We reminisced about the food that my mom used to send with him. We would eat a whole pack of bacon. We would watch all the comedies, like White Chicks. We were there, actually, for the city blackout after 9/11. We laughed in the dark for so long, all we did was crack jokes. We didn't get upset. We had a ball.
“I work as a residential supervisor for Housing Plus in the Bronx. I also moonlight for Hour Children, driving families to Rikers Island on some Saturdays. I do that because, when I was incarcerated, they used to bring my son and my mom up to Bedford. So, I said, well, what better way to give back? I pay it forward that way. I’m always doing something. Panels, workshops, all kinds of stuff.”
on landing at the Women’s Community Justice Association
When I first came home, I didn't want to be connected to the people I did time with. I had done so much time — 22 years. But what I soon realized when I started working was that there was a perception from bosses that this was the best I could do. I took a lot of verbal abuse. So, I ended up connecting with Donna Hylton and working with A Little Piece of Light as a program coordinator. While on the inside Sharon White-Harrigan and I were President and Vice President of the Inmate Liaison Committee together for many years. The ILC came about from the Attica riot as a go-to between the population and administration. We were the voice of the population in negotiations with the administration. So, we knew each other’s work ethic, we were really close, and I eventually went to work with her at WCJA.
I went in doing community organizing for the Beyond Rosies campaign— showing up at rallies, campaigning around the Close Rikers legislation, going to caucuses in Albany, doing outreach with family members of incarcerated people. Anything that sought to advocate for women and gender-expansive populations. I became a supervisor and was able to bring people in under me. We go to Rikers Island and help women get housing; we conduct support groups. We always tell the women, “We walked in your shoes, we know what it's like. That's why we're committed. That's why we're going to be here next week and the week after.” Sharon really invests in us, and we invest in the cause: to decarcerate, to reinvest in communities, and to close the Rose M. Singer Center on Rikers Island. The campaign is called #BEYONDrosies because the work is not just inside the Rose M. Singer Center. It's beyond that. We’re all abolitionists, but we know that's not going to happen overnight. In the process, we can't forget the people at Rosie’s. The goal is to bring them back into the community and have new systems in place with extra support. We want to utilize more Alternative to Incarceration programs and support services instead of incarcerating or detaining people. Prisons and jails do nothing but remove you from society for a period of time. When you invest in people, you get the best of people and they can be productive in their communities, and that's what ATIs do. Because if we have resources, maybe people won't come into contact with the criminal legal system in the first place.
We also show up in court for people, because, often, the judges look into the courtroom, and they don't see anybody, and they figure you don't matter. So, we have a Community and Court Navigation Manager, interns and members of our task force who go to court to provide much needed court support. Now, I'm also in transitional programs and in shelters, doing workshops called Mirror Mirror. I ordered little mirrors for the women that have inspirational sayings. I encourage them. I say, “When you get up in the morning, open your mirror, talk to yourself! That's how beautiful you are.” Because a lot of women have suffered trauma, like domestic violence and intimate partner violence and they struggle with self-value. I want them to realize they are beautiful, worthy, and valuable. I had that experience and I know what it took for me to get to where I'm at, so I definitely want to help other women get there. Women are the backbone of the community. Nothing happens without a woman, right?
on her mom’s home cooking
I don't go to restaurants much because my mom does a lot of cooking. She caters a lot. Right now, she's in North Carolina making Rum Cakes and she's cooking for Shaw University for an event.
I carried a lot from her with me when I went inside, but since I came home, I really haven't been into cooking. I don't want to be bothered. I’ll help her prep, but she likes to do her own thing. Her fried chicken is amazing. She makes peas and rice; she does a great curry chicken. She does everything. She has three deep freezers and two refrigerators downstairs. We were laughing the other day because we said if Armageddon ever happens, the whole block knows that she’s a lady that cooks so they’re going to come here.
In the summertime, she sells dinners, and we play music. She’s the Block Association President, so everyone on the block has known her for years. My mom moved here in ‘97, so the first time I’d ever been at this house was when I came home. That was in 2019. It was January, and they left the Christmas tree and stuff up for me so I could see it.
on Faith Ringgold’s painting For the Women’s House
When the team behind Paint Me A Road Out of Here asked us to think about the painting by Faith Ringgold as part of the documentary, I automatically went back to where I was when it was in the Rose M. Singer Center. It wasn’t in plain sight. So, the first time I really saw it was when we went to the Brooklyn Museum with Mary. And we all analyzed it. The first thing that stood out to me was the images. Faith was so far ahead of her time, looking at careers that women could one day hold. People couldn't fathom it then. A woman as a police officer? A doctor? Not in the 70s. Seeing what she envisioned for us makes me think about today, and the roles that we play as advocates. She had a vision. So how could we fail? She paved the road for us. And I'm a very visual learner. If I see it, I'll never forget it. Faith was like a caped crusader, and that painting gave people hope. And the thing about it is, when you're in Rosies, you're dealing with so much trauma, you're dealing with going back and forth to court, you can't really see the hope in the painting. But now being outside, you can actually look and see where she was going with it, and why she put these images in a jail.
At the documentary’s premiere in D.C., I cried the whole time. Because I felt like Faith was talking to me. She was like an angel. In those situations, you feel like you're so broken. But her painting said this is only part of your journey. I always think about the metamorphosis. You go in broken, but you come out beautiful.
“My partner did 26 years, incarcerated since he was 18. So, he came home in his 40s. We’re two good souls. And even when he gets on my last nerve, I won’t give up on him. I always want to take care of people. That’s what Leah is made of. I don’t want to be a hard person.”
on meeting her partner
We were both working for Exodus at one of the transitional housing hotels in Queens. I think it was April 2022. He was actually my supervisor at the time. We started talking and we related to each other so much. We both did a lot of time in prison, and I think that made me gravitate towards him. Because a lot of people can’t really understand that struggle. We’re experiencing a lot of first things together. On our first date, we went down to Long Island City, to one of those restaurants by the water. We had steak tartare and branzino, and then got ice cream and walked along the water. We took pictures, it was really nice.
He puts family first. He doesn’t have any children and that’s something that he's always wanted to experience. But I'm an old horse now, that ain't happening. I told him he could get a puppy!
on caring for her partner
He's only been home four years now. So last year for his birthday, I took him to Puerto Rico, we rented a car, and we went jet skiing. And then this year I took him to Trinidad. We both got our first stamp on our passports. My goal is really to expose him to different things. I want him to have a good life. When he leaves this earth, I want him to say, I experienced things. Because he did a lot of time. And men jail differently than women. They jail hard. A lot of them do time in isolation. Women have jail families and jail relationships, but with men, there’s so much stigma and you can never really be yourself.
on her tattoos
I had two tattoos before I went to prison. One, I realized later, was my ex-boyfriend wanting to label me. When you are in trauma, you think that these things are love. But it's control.
This is the first one I got when I came home because I went in July ‘97 and came home in 2019. So, I said, pressure makes diamonds, because that's exactly what I felt like. Then I got one for when my grandson was born. I got the “Established in 1974” when I went to Compton in Cali. When I was in Trinidad, I loved watching Love and Hip Hop, and one of the stars had a tattoo with Belize and Trinidad. So, I got the American flag and Trinidad. Me and my son also have matching tattoos. Mine says “For my son, I risk it all.” And his says, “Because of my mom, I will not fall.” And then my most recent one is his name. And then this one is a representation of me and my partner because we have the same initials. LFF.
I want to get two more tattoos. My niece and I have the same middle name, Fathia. It derives from the Islamic morning prayer. She has it on her collarbone, so I'll get that one. And then I want one on my neck. I love the metamorphosis, so I might do a butterfly coming out, or a key with the lock inside that says something about destiny.
“I had very long hair when I came home. The officers used to be like, ‘who bought you that weave?’ I used to roller set my hair every week and let it air dry. I never put heat in my hair. And when I came home, I wanted to try all the fashions, and all of my hair fell out.”
on church
So our religion is Spiritual Baptist. We actually deal with the African saints — the Orishas. We grew up in the church. My aunt had a little basement church in Long Island. There was a sword that protected the entrance to the church so no negative spirits would come in. Someone would physically hold the sword. My dad played the congos and I mimicked him. I started playing the drums in church. It became a tradition.
My mom’s been on this block for almost 30 years and has hosted church services here. They would have big fancy cakes, like four or five, and the tables would be long, and they’d pray. So, everybody who’s lived on the block for years knows my mom is a church person. One time, I went to work, and we forgot the door was wide open downstairs. And my mom was upstairs sleeping. I was so angry, but guess what? I don't think anybody would even attempt to come in here, because they just think, oh, that's the prayer lady, her house is protected.
on what she does for fun
Sleep. I'm simple now. My focus has changed. I'm a mother and grandmother. I look forward to visiting my grandson.
I mean, I like the pool. I can’t do sand, but I like the water. I like to sunbathe. The last time I was in a pool was on my visit to Trinidad this year. My cousin has a pool there. My mom is from Trinidad, so my aunts, cousins, everybody is there. Before that visit, the last time I was in Trinidad was in ‘93. When I was a teenager, I didn’t really enjoy it. There wasn’t any AC, they had louvers instead of windows so the bugs would come in, and I remember not liking the powdered milk. The culture was too different for me then.
I want to travel more — get one of those campers and go on a road trip from state to state, doing whatever that state is known for.
on her beauty routine
I don’t wear makeup. My mom gets mad. At my niece's Sweet Sixteen, my sister paid for us to get our makeup done and I was just like, get it off me. It just made my face feel so tight. I’ve always been like that.
I’ve used St. Ives Apricot Scrub, and I use this Urban Rx Cleansing Bar. I like something exfoliating. What I did when I was inside was use the state soap, which is made by Corcraft. It had lye in it, so it cleared my face up. I would sell and swap Dove soap to get state soap. We had pads for the floor cleaning machines — black to strip the floor, red to buff it, and white to shine it. The inside of the pad was a donut, so I used to take all the white donuts out of the pads and stack them in my room. I would use that as a loofah. I’ve always taken care of my skin. That was the thing for me, I always said I wanted to leave prison with no corns on my feet and with my skin still looking good. I use Mizani hair oil and curl cream.
on what she’s reading
I'm studying for my CDL — my truck driving license. I used to read a lot, but now it takes time that I don't have. I'll read my Bible, but mostly my eyes are always glued to the computer or I'm writing something. My favorite book is In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, which I first read in my year-long course with Sarah Lawrence College. That was back in 2012 and he's still my favorite author.
leah’s favorite spots in new york city
I have a love for MoMA PS1 because I was exhibited there. Me and Judy Clark were on a panel there. I used to love roller skating, that’s something I remember from childhood. So, when I came home, I bought a pair of roller skates with the light-up wheels, the pom poms, everything. I still have them, but I haven't been able to roller skate recently. Although I am getting older, I still look forward to enjoying a day of rollerskating with my friends.
