Prison evolved before my eyes, and so did the correctional culture. I remember a time when guards would pay us cigarettes to do unit chores. Like bringing the trays in the unit after they were dropped off by the girls who hung off the back of the food truck.

We had a kitchen in Fennwick North. Our side of the Fenwicks was for under 21’s and first time offenders, i was co-occurring. On our side most of us were kids, i had just turned 19. There were plenty of fights, and arguments. Like high school arguments stemmed from he said she said, cutting inline, girlfriends stealing. Oh come on, don’t tell me- you thought that was only in the movies. Please.

Honestly the gay life in prison does exist. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what sex a person is the companionship alone is all that matters. And it’s not frowned upon by women the majority of women I’ve met in prison have tried fooling around with another woman, between loneliness and curiosity – everyone given the opportunity tries it. What i mean is? There are some women who don”t ‘bulldag’ but i bet if someone were attracted to them, they would. Why not explore while in the myst of those who accept it.

Anyway- of course i have I’m human. I was there twenty-three years.

Enough of that, back to the beginning prison was not an amusement park but it was a time when guards still considered us human. When they called us by our first names, let us sit on top of their office desks to get our shackles removed. Yes, because I had a three-hundred-thousand dollar bond- back then that was high-which was like a million today. Anyways because of that i was a automatic level four pink card. It meant i needed to be transported to and from outside units in a van wearing either shackles or hand cuffs. My ugly jewelry, i wore it like a scarlet letter. It pointed me out- telling everyone my crime was serious.

Those who were level three’s also had to ride in the vans when they left their units but they didn’t have to wear any jewelry.

Level twos and ones could walk the compound when they needed to leave the unit. Being a 2 meant you were close to release, and a one meant you were eligible for a 90 day reentry furlough. You could go home 90days early but you had to do it like you were on a long furlough- in other words DOC still owned you, but you were are home. If you mess up or fail to cooperate with any set stipulation- you’d get “packed-back-in” as we referred to getting sent back to finish your time.

Level twos got to have what was called, trailer visits. Although like with any privilege York appears to offer- you have to practically crawl over a field of broken shards to even get in smelling distance of it. Similarly when the west side was built- there within were these little apartment condo’s. They were meant for “family” to visit, but family was so specific that barely anyone could work it out, like you had to have kids- biological or legal ones. You couldn’t be a 19 year old kid and have your mom come. Hardly anyone met the criteria, one of the requirements is you have never had a disciplinary infraction or “ticket” since like 1994. So even if you had a ticket in 91′ but were home 5 years and come back on new charges and you had perfect behavior the entire time you have been back- you will never qualify for a condo visit. Truthfully those condo’s are used for the guards to sleep in in snowy weather, and for only they know what else…

I remember sitting in my window time after time and seeing guards creep down to the prison garden with bags and they would rob vegetables that we harvested and planted- this produce was a way to repay society-we donated the produce to local homeless shelters- guards knew this and still robbed the garden. What they didn”t know was their crimes were being witnessed by window watchers like me.

Surely these guards might argue- women who worked the garden- stole plenty of tomatoes and cucumbers. I don’t debate that, which includes me – we were desperate for anything healthy we could get our hands on. The prison food they served us was killing us, and even if we wanted to buy healthy foods- none were available for purchase. So yes we can work there, for 75 cents a day. For 5 days- that was $3.75 a week, they paid us $7.50 biweekly. But it still barely bought us toothpaste and soap- let alone left us with food money. If we didn’t have outside financial support. Which thank god i did. So you see when one is in the state of having everything stripped from them- and steals a tomato or carrot. Ok its expected. But lets get back to the guards? They go home everyday, they start at “$64,260” a year in CT. “That’s 92% above the national average.” according to indeed.com so why would a guard find it necessary to steal from inmates?

Did you know that the guards actually eat inmate food? Trays and trays of it, night after night. They will take trays from the tray carts as soon as they are wheeled in the units for what is called feedback- The guards will eats theirs while its hot, leaving ours to sit and get soggy.

In prison everything happens. In the beginning before the culture shift, I’d float into the unit after school, the guards in the unit would show genuine concern for our growth and progress, even disciplining us with hours of extra duty if we didn’t attend school. We used to iron guards uniform shirts (well not me- i don’t iron) but there was a different atmosphere once the new side opened.

It was if the same guards I’d already dealt with for the first almost two years- changed overnight.

I’ll be honest- it might have been the name- it was the “maximum side.” The very word alone caused men to believe- the purpose of prison was to punish rather than correct.

Immediately upon my transfer to the west side, i was pleased to learn i could walk the compound like i was a green or yellow card- but my level was still high, by the time i moved from the east side- i was a level 5 orange card. So i was wearing shackles and handcuffs while being transported anywhere. But now this new place they named, York C.I. Was entirely fenced in, with a nice amount of electrical current for anyone who dared to try. When guards who had fence duty toured the perimeter of the grounds they could be seen checking for breaches in the fence with a stick.

Now some of you may assume i hate guards based on how i talk. I do not hate them, peer pressure is real- I’m not excusing it but when the majority of guards are abusive, being the professional decent guard takes so much courage. Because often times guards who see us as humans are considered- a hug a thug or inmate lover. No one wants that stigma. Nice or decent staff are warned that we are out to manipulate them and use them.

Now don’t get me wrong those ideas didn’t originate from nowhere, when guards who engage in inappropriate misconduct, a lot of times the guard is expected to gift the girl. These girls are usually ones with out family support not apposed to performing for financial benefit. But this kind of conduct only happens when a guard permits- woman may think some perfume or commissary $ is worth it. But even when inmates say yes to engaging in these acts they have no right over their own body- saying no puts a target on your back. Some girls actually think they have feelings for the guards. But truth be told most of the women of York would never mess with those guards had they met them under other circumstances. This type of inmate exploitation runs ramped at YCI. Especially among the hire ranking staff.

The same ones who penalize you for standing to close to another inmates doors are the ones banging your cellie.

Now this post of mine- let me tell you what to expect. I can be 100% professional and write each entry as a final draft. Or i can do as i plan,—- just flow..

Follow me.