A Knock at Midnight: A Story of Hope, Justice, and Freedom

“In our family, as in much of the South, Black love was Black wealth.”

Given the legacy of racism, Black Americans in the South suffered disproportionate economic hardship. However, the strength to endure and prosper came from the enveloping and loving support of both family and the community. Barnett repeatedly emphasizes the importance of this love and support in her myriad achievements.

“I’m not going to reward you for doing what you are supposed to do, Big Girl. You are smart. Straight A’s—that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

When Barnett told her paternal grandfather Daddy Sudie that her friend got money for her A grades, he responded kindly but firmly with this answer. Barnett recalls this response years later and cites it to highlight the importance of her family in shaping her sense of responsibility and success. This advice complements the book’s message that we work not just for material rewards but because we are using our talents to improve the world.

“But the Hole was ours, and I loved it. It was our hood, buzzing with the energy of Black people living their daily lives […].”

Barnett conveys the sense of belonging she felt in Commerce, Texas, where she first felt like part of a vibrant Black community. Her neighborhood in Commerce was a product of Jim Crow, with railroad tracks dividing the Black community from the wealthier, white neighborhoods. This common experience of oppression forged a strong sense of community that comforted Barnett in tough personal times.

“I was doing so much hiding that summer—hiding my mom’s addiction from my friends and colleagues, my boyfriend’s abuse from my family, any sign of weakness or pain from myself.”

In her college years, Barnett, the victim of so much trauma, briefly hesitated to turn to her family and community when in need. Like so many domestic abuse victims, she was embarrassed and blamed herself. With the help of an older Black woman, Barnett reclaimed charge of her life and returned to those who loved her.

“Church has often been one of the few places in America where Black people can feel truly free.”

Church was a place of refuge for Barnett because of the people present and the words of hope. The pastor’s spiritual message gave her the strength to end an abusive relationship and exit a dangerous world. Barnett later realized that had she stayed with her abusive boyfriend Red, she too could have been arrested on drug charges.

“Daddy taught me to write it down, everything I wanted, and then to picture it as if it had already happened.”

This advice stayed with Barnett throughout her life. She had to believe in good results for her clients in order to make that happen. That faith and conviction encouraged her to act, to work hard for her success.

“‘C’mon, Big Girl,’ Daddy Sudie would say to me, ‘ain’t nothin’ but a step for a stepper! You just gotta keep on steppin’.’ That man was always right.” 

This message of perseverance even in the face despair permeates Barnett’s life story as well as those of her clients. When her mother was in prison, Barnett kept achieving despite the trauma of that separation. Later she would see her imprisoned clients making the best of their lives in unimaginable conditions.

“We punish addiction in this country, treating it as a moral flaw instead of an illness.” 

Addicts like Barnett’s mother were denied treatment and were instead criminalized. This treatment caused unnecessary shame in the addicts and their families and greatly increased their odds of incarceration. This framing was one source of the problem of mass incarceration.

“My mama had served over two years in prison, and every day had felt like a decade.” 

The torture of the two-year separation from her mother gave Barnett the ability to empathize with the pain of her clients and their families. Two years was traumatic enough; she could scarcely imagine a lifetime separation. This empathy caused her to treat their cases as urgent.

“Now that I knew about her case, now that I had spoken her name aloud in my classroom presentation, I couldn’t just let her die in prison.” 

Speaking about Sharanda, Barnett vowed to work on her behalf as a law student. She was connected to Sharanda because of her own mother’s experience. Aware that her mother easily could have suffered Sharanda’s fate, Barnett resolved to do everything in her power to free her.

“‘And you sure don’t look forty-two,’ I said. ‘No way. I guess it’s true what they say’—I smiled—‘Black don’t crack.’” 

Ostensibly focused on Sharanda’s external beauty, Barnett complimented her on their first meeting. It later became apparent that Sharanda also had incredible internal strength, as she maintained her spirits under the difficult conditions of prison life. This strength was common among those in the Black community.

“But my new understanding of conspiracy made one thing very clear: I would fight for Sharanda’s life as if it were my own, because it was.” 

Barnett initially compared Sharanda to her mother, but she later realized that she could have been in Sharanda’s position too. Even though she had nothing to do with her abusive ex-boyfriend’s drug business, she knew about it and drove to Dallas with him. Under the broad conspiracy laws, that could have ensnared her in drug charges.

“Why wouldn’t this almost all-white jury from Dallas, Texas, one of the most segregated cities in the United States, believe federal officers from the United States government as they literally transformed beef patties into kilos of crack cocaine?” 

Referencing the 1993 trial of Donel Clark and his friends, Barnett reinforces the role of race in crack cocaine trials. The jury was willing to believe that a simple question about a food order, recorded on tape, was code for kilos of cocaine. Without any physical evidence, such insinuations increased the quantities of ghost dope, which left judges no choice but to give long sentences.

“Visits were the incarcerated women’s greatest nourishment, a balm to the wounds inflicted by the daily indignities of prison existence, the promise of light that made the darkest moments bearable.”

Inspired by her and her mother’s experiences, Barnett created the nonprofit Girls Embracing Mothers to benefit the children of incarcerated mothers. She emphasizes the unnecessary assaults on the dignity of those in prison. However, she also highlights the power of family to bring hope even in the toughest moments.

“By day I wore power suits and heels, dined with partners, got high on the thrill of the deal. But at night I hunched over my laptop on my couch […] and worked to put together clemency petitions for Sharanda and Donel.” 

Expressing the contrast between her two jobs, one paid and one unpaid, Barnett gives a sense of her enormous workload. She also highlights the duality in her life, living a dream life but working on behalf of those trapped in a nightmare. That sharp contrast left her with guilt and ultimately caused her to question which career path was best for her.

“There’s a proverb that says ‘I am because we are.’ At moments like these, I felt all the love and support of my community.” 

As she was about to file clemency petitions for Sharanda and Donel, Barnett reflected upon the Black community’s role in the effort. This moment would not be possible without that love and support from her past through to her present. That sense of community also created a sense of shared identity, as Barnett was initially motivated to take Sharanda’s case because Sharanda could have been Barnett’s mother or Barnett herself.

“And on December 18, 2015, President Barack Obama, the very first Black president of these United States, answered […]. Through an incredible act of mercy, the president had finally brought justice.” 

Describing the moment when she got word of Sharanda’s clemency, Barnett relishes the first Black president’s role in awarding it. This moments mirrors the hope Barnett felt as a law student when President Obama first took office. After a painstaking wait, her hope was finally rewarded.

“Justice is blind—she’s also slow.” 

Having compared the crisis of mass incarceration for nonviolent crimes to a fire, Barnett is continually frustrated by the amount of time it takes for courts and the clemency process to respond. She also expresses disappointment with the slow pace and number of clemencies granted by the Obama administration. The long wait was almost unbearable for Barnett’s clients, bringing them close to their darkest hour in prison.

“‘Where does my greatest joy intersect with the world’s greatest need? Let me go there.’ It sounds to me, young lady, like you know the answer to that already.” 

Barnett quotes Eric Holder, the attorney general under President Obama. She was leaning toward making her night job on behalf of the incarcerated her permanent vocation. Holder recalled this quote that his brother had sent him and shared it with Barnett to reinforce his advice to follow her passion. Given that Barnett views mass incarceration as the most pressing civil rights issue, this quotation helped solidify her decision to leave corporate law.

“‘Stop thinking about the challenges,’ he said. ‘Imagine the possibilities instead.’” 

As Barnett discussed her thinking about leaving corporate law to work full time on efforts to reduce mass incarceration, her father offered this advice. Like Holder, her father encouraged Barnett to follow her passion. He also expressed faith in her ability to succeed in this new endeavor, something that had benefitted her all her life.

“King explains that the man continues to persistently knock; he will not be denied. He urges us to embrace the hope, faith, and love necessary to continue our struggle for justice in midnight’s darkest hour.” 

Elaborating on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “A Knock at Midnight” sermon, Barnett simultaneously emphasizes the depths of despair and the power of hope. It is essential to keep working for justice even when all hope seems lost. As King stated, and as Barnett experienced through her clients, dawn will come if people keep knocking on its door.

“Self-care for Black women is a radical act […].”

Barnett defines self-care as replenishment to be able to better serve the community, not as self-indulgence. Black women rarely have the luxury of such replenishment, and that takes an enormous physical and spiritual toll. After working so hard at two jobs in such different worlds, Barnett greatly needed such replenishment and emerged from it ready to serve others.

“That every single human being left behind by President Obama’s Clemency Initiative was buried alive by laws and social norms that had a direct link to our nation’s sordid foundation: genocidal colonization of native peoples and the chattel enslavement of Africans. That my own journey was inextricably bound to this history. And my own liberation was tied to that of every single person unjustly chained in America’s prisons.”

Highlighting the connection between America’s racist past and the unjust sentences for crack cocaine in the War on Drugs, Barnett demonstrates the impact on all Black people. Her life was profoundly shaped by the racist past. Her work to free those buried alive is not only her passion—it is necessary to ensure her own future freedom.