An accurate & recent account of a trans woman's incarceration in an American Prison

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Part 3 - Cold, dehydrated, scared and alone

Now that Dahlia had been made to leave and drive away I suddenly felt much more vulnerable and anxious. As the young hostile officer returned to his desk a rush of panic come over me.

Again I reminded myself that I had to keep calm, find a way to be strong and get through this. Thoughts of all I was likely to endure over the coming days filled my head, making that job very hard to do. The reality of course was that I didn't really have a clue what to expect, but did know one thing for certain... that the experience wasn't going to be made any easier for being an intersex/transsexual woman! In fact I knew only to well that being a trans* woman in just about the most Mexican city in North America meant added trouble for me.

I'd heard and read various reports of trans women in both Texan and Mexican prisons during my couple of years of reportage, non of which were good reports and these saturated my thoughts and emotions. Suddenly I could feel the crushing irony of how i'd been anxious over spending time in a known trans intolerant city as Dallas. As to now find myself facing a spell in prison poured scorn on such a feeble concern.

In an attempt to quell some of my anxiety I tried to equip myself with all I might say when getting to the prison. Telling myself that even I, as soft as I could sometimes be can surely last up to three days in prison no matter how scary or awful it might get.

Yet my mind isn't so easily duped and so it instantly draged me back to reality, causing me to face up to that which deep down I already knew; States such as Texas have little interest in medical science or how intersex your physical body might present as being, either to look at or even on medical records. Nor do they show preference to someone who is way on in their gender transition. Instead they choose to almost fanatically insist that unless your genitalia have been corrected, you will be treated in accordance with what was stated on your birth certificate.

I think though that their own policy states it better...

"Transsexual people who as yet have not undergone genital surgery are classified according to their birth sex for purposes of prison housing, regardless of how long they may have lived as a member of the other gender, or how much other medical treatment they may have undergone."

Now, for the purposes of honesty and transparency, I admit that I found this statement from a support and protest organization site for LGBTI prison issues in the US. However I see no reason to doubt its validity, especially considering my own personal experiences which you'll read about. Yet even if this policy is denied or indeed has been updated since, it makes little difference, as this is in actual fact what is going on in El Paso prison and I feel sure in other deep south and Western American prisons also!

Some folks reading this might innocently but ignorantly feel that this policy is in fact not unfair. After all, if you were born with a penis then surely you are male right? Sadly not always so!

World wide psychologists, psychiatrists, doctors, biologists, scientists and other medical professionals follow closely adhered to guidelines to determine the mental state and gender of patients who come to them claiming gender related issues. Before any medical gender corrective help or treatments are offered the patient is first vigorously examined and affirmed to be of sound mind and then put through various examinations with at least two psychologists to affirm their inner gender and awareness as being fully consistent with that of the opposite sex.

In fact because I myself have undergone treatment in both the US and the UK I've seen no less than three psychologists and two psychiatrists along my journey. Some declared that my case was a bit of a no brainer and wondered how the hell I'd lasted as long as I had before breaking down. Well the truth is that I didn't last very well at all and to say that my life and mental peace was severely weakened through the anguish of gender incongruence would be a vast understatement indeed.

In other words, and at the risk of using a bit of a current cliche'...

We are not our genitals! We are who we are inside, defined by our soul, spirit and gender awareness. Flesh does not dictate our being and is not the greater part of us!

Therefore to insist on ignoring a person's gender awareness purely on the basis of there being or there not being a scrap of flesh between their legs and to then throw them in to the wrong gender prison even though they clearly present as the opposite sex is at best neanderthal. To knowingly do so means to subject that person to massive levels of stress, humiliation, Gender Dysphoria and risk of serious physical danger, which to any reasonable human being would seem utterly barbaric and unreasonably cruel. To try to uphold such policies can only mean that this becomes an exercise in bigotry, hatred, carelessness and even religiously motivated pedantics.

Obviously for me the bitter irony of such a thing happening would surely sting twice as deep and be even more painful than for most. As I was literally en route for the very surgery that would satisfy and allow Texas to recognize me in my true inner gender. To then be stopped and them insist on throwing me into a male prison dorm seems to me to be almost inconceivable, which could likely result in me getting badly beaten and raped!

How long can it possibly take?

Other than the odd detail being asked me every now and then I sat there on that hard bench for over four hours. Various roadside detainees came and went, all Mexican of course and all were processed pretty quickly and either thrown back over the border or detained further. I was left wondering what was taking so long in my case, as the young officer seemed to be scrutinizing his computer screen, almost as if following a new and completely different set of procedures and rules.

I'd been up and awake since 2am, but had not slept more than a few winks the night before, so wasn't feeling too good at all by now. I hadn't drank very much either, other than a few mouthfuls of energy drink three hours earlier, so dehydration coupled with the upset of it all now left me feeling increasingly light headed and sick.
Another 30 minutes quickly slipped by and I was feeling increasingly queazy. I so didn't want to draw attention to myself or create a fuss so just held on as long as I could, as I'd assumed that any time now they'd surely be transporting me to the prison anyway.

Eventually I felt my head spin badly so had no choice but to urgently ask for some water, as it seemed there would be no offer coming from them.
The harsh young officer brought me a half filled plastic cupful which I gulped down in one go. It was so chilled to be almost painfully freezing as it traveled downward, which gave me a sensation around my lungs almost like water poured on parched earth. As nice as it was it barely touched the sides and wasn't nearly enough to stop my wobbles, so I asked a different officer for another cup-'ful', deliberately putting emphasis on the 'full' part of the word.

An irritated sideways glance was shot me by the young officer who was most likely on his third coffee by now. However it paid off, as the other officer handed me a freezing cold plastic beaker full of water. To me right then at that moment it seemed almost as satisfying as a cold glass of beer on a scorching summers day, which if you knew how much I detested drinking water it would emphasize just how dehydrated I was. My standing joke had always been;

"If God had intended for us to drink water as it was then He wouldn't have deliberately caused fruit trees and berry bushes to grow by lakes and streams... kind of a divine hint!"

Of course I'm joking but usually I'll never drink just water. You know, they had it right at the Boston Tea Party when they dumped all the British tea over the edge of the harbour and into the sea. The worlds biggest tea bag! Yummy!

I digress, sorry...

Oh my goodness, that did however really hit the spot, although now I was fighting back brain freeze having gulped such a large beaker down so quickly, which earned me another sideways look from the young officer as I wriggled in pain on the bench and slapped the back of my neck several times. I smiled and whispered "Sorry dear, brain freeze!" He shot me yet another irritated look, I blushed and he glanced back down at his computer screen.

Being so very nervous, without realizing it I began to tear up my plastic beaker into strip like peices. "Ma'am can you refrain from doing that, I'm trying to concentrate?" I was shocked at the sharp response and so dropped the bloody thing on to the floor, which landed flatly and looking like an eleven legged spider waiting to pounce. Quickly retrieving it I sat back up and once again blushed, nonsensically uttering some jumbled words about nerves and plastic. Another sharp look earned!

Enter the cavalry

Moments later the side door burst open and in poured at least 6 or 7 more border control officers armed with bottles of drink, boxes of sandwiches and no short supply of high fives, manly hugs and stories of the mornings events. Thankfully that took the emphasis off my being so irritating for him. Their laughter brightened the place up a little and helped to keep me alert as by now my eyes had started to droop. After around 30 minutes one by one they trundled off and back on duty, leaving the place uncomfortably quite and overly serious once more.

Suddenly I really needed a wee, yet being me I held on for as long as I could, again not wanting to make a fuss. I'm the type of person who unduly worries about every little aspect of just about everything and who always feels as if they are a bit of a nuisance. Yet twenty minutes more and the need had became urgent. Now I had no choice and I could put it off no longer!

I waited for one of the older officers to pass me by so I could ask him, as it seemed they were at least a little more tolerant than the young officer who'd been processing me in to the system for the last three hours or so.

"Excuse me sir, is there a rest room I could use?" I inquired in a rather apologetic manner. "Yeah, walk to the end of the row and wait for me there" came the overly official response. I did so and stood waiting for a crippling two minutes and then was led to a nice clean toilet facility which was obviously the staff restroom. I thought to myself "Well, at least that's nice" as i'd expected one restroom for the officers and another for the villains!

On exiting the restroom I was met by my young keen officer who asked me to return to my seat as there was a call waiting for me at his desk. I felt my heart thud and my anxiety levels triple in an instant; "oh okay, who is it please?" I asked with trepidation in my voice.

"It is policy that any British national being detained has to be immediately reported back to the British consulate, and she has called here and wants to talk with you."

I fearfully took the receiver not knowing what to expect and nervously said "Hello, Abby speaking" ...

"Hello is this Abigail?" came the official but warm friendly female voice.
"Erm yes yes that's me, hello"
"Hello Abigail, so may I first ask, do you prefer being called Abby or Abigail?" She inquired thoughtfully in her wonderfully familiar English accent.
With a nervous stammer I replied "Ye...Yes. Well I mean to say, I don't mind really, but most of my friends do call me Abby yes".

"Okay Abby thank you. My name is Susan (last name kept private). I'm the British consulate based here in Houston Texas. It's been brought to my attention that you've been detained for having exited the US and trying to re-enter through the Mexican border in violation of your requirements?"

My heart instantly sank to hear it put quite so officially. Up until this point my mind had naively processed it all with a far less formal understanding, but now the severity hit me hard between the eyes! Suddenly my voice was wobbling...

"Ye... yes, but honestly it was a mistake, I'm on my way to my surgery appointment which is in less than two days time in Dallas. We simply took a wrong turn is all".

Her voice although never harsh suddenly changed and became instantly sympathetic; "Oh my gosh Abby that's just awful i'm so sorry, and I assure you that you are not the first to make that mistake at the border area in El Paso. However the law there, especially in El Paso Texas won't be interested in claims of error, they will run this by the book i'm afraid!"

There was a few seconds of deafening silence as my head instantly filled with terror. A terror that now had muted my speech further so that the only words I could manage to utter were "but, but...No!"

"Listen to me Abby, they are going to detain you in El Paso detention center. You may be there a short while. It is possible that they might try to process you as if male. I will inform this officer here of your medical history and ask him to make sure that is relayed across to the prison. Having said that it's common that they ignore such requests so you are going to have to be strong. Tell them that you are intersex at the prison. You might need to explain what that means I'm afraid. I know this is so difficult honey but you really need to do this to stand any chance of being recognized and processed correctly and fairly. In the meantime I will contact their medical department and inform them also, so do insist on discussing it with them also once you get the chance."

By now I was sobbing deeply and all I could manage to speak out through my tears was... "Please Susan, help me please if you can!"

"I'll do all I can Abby I promise, but you are subject to their State laws as well as Federal laws sadly. I will fly over to see you within the next couple of days I promise. Be strong, you will get through this. These things happen for reasons we don't yet understand honey, but I feel sure good will eventually come from this even if you can't see it right now. Is there someone you would like me to contact for you either here in the US or in the UK?"

"Thank you so so much Susan. Here in the US yes... I'll give you Dahlia's number, she is worried sick and I know she won't be coping well at all right now. They made her drive away with no assurance of what will happen to me."

Immediately after the receiver went down the officer stood up and ordered me to be taken to a holding cell. He blurted some official jargon about being held there until a prison bus became available to escort me to El Paso Detention center and that I needed to adhere to certain behavior protocols etc until that time. I was marched through the office and then down a corridor of around 6 cells until reaching the end of the row. He unlocked the cell door and I was ordered to enter. The door was then slammed shut behind me and locked.

I must say, when you are not used to that kind of treatment it really is a huge culture shock to say the very least!

There I stood surveying my new reality and environment. The most disgusting of filthy cells lay before me. So filthy in fact that I'd never have believed such could possibly exist in a supposed civilized Western jail system. This seemed far from civilized and even less Westernized. I was left utterly speechless (or gob smacked as we say back home!)

I walked through the mess of filth and unsanitary stinking blankets that lay strewn across the cell floor. Skipping past and through them as if navigating my way through a mischief of rats. When I reached the other side I sat down perched on the absolute edge of a concrete bench not very much cleaner and covered with Spanish graffiti. I'm not ashamed to admit at that moment I just buried my head in my hands and began to cry. All that was left for me now was to sit and await my escort to my own personal hell!

To be continued...

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