As one cell door opens, another slams shut - Part 1 - Release

An accurate & recent account of my incarceration in an American Prison

Around three years ago I remember having an online conversation with a transgender friend. Somewhat lightheartedly we discussed what might be some of our most dreaded nightmarish situations that we as pre-operative transsexuals might find ourselves in? We came up with some colorful scenarios of course but among them and high on the list was to be arrested and sent to jail.

Below is an account of my recent horrifying experience of just that and more. Never could I have imagined such things ever happening to me nor to any transsexual or intersex person, Yet sadly I learned that they do. Also, somewhat surprisingly and unfortunate for me it happens more in America than in almost all of the so called 'civilized' nations of the 'free' West. The whole turn of events that transpired has been my worst of nightmares and I'm not ashamed to admit has left me more than a little traumatized.

It's not going to be easy for me to write down nor re-live some of these experiences so soon after the event, yet I will try to do so, both for my own sake and also hopefully to highlight what is going on in American detention centres. Maybe others might benefit too. These memories are so fresh and recent that I'm still having sleepless nights, hot sweets, panic attacks and some bad dreams over all that occurred. So writing this now might seem a little crazy... well, I am a little, but my hope in trying to do so while so raw is that it might help to release some anxiety for me before my counselling sessions for post traumatic stress get started.

If I may, I'd like to let you tag along with me on this personal and painful journey of recollection? Not only recalling the events of the detention center and my incarceration, but also those things prior, as I prepared for my final step of gender transition; my GRS/SRS corrective surgery.

Part One - Release

I hadn't slept much at all that night, but it didn't matter, as my adrenalin was pumping and leaving me fizzing with excitement and keeping me wide awake.
After such a life long mental battle with my physical outer body and gender awareness; finally over the next two days or so those contradictions were about to be corrected and their torment at last laid to rest.

Although still causing me problems, I'd already enjoyed significantly reduced symptoms of gender incongruence and dysphoria by means of entering into full physical gender transition, living life more authentically in my correct gender. This coupled with the changes that hormone replacement had brought to my body over the last three years, had all helped to quell much of my mental anguish. Now the time for my final confirming and corrective surgery had at last arrived and already I felt set free with the sheer anticipation of journey's end.

My partner had already loaded the car ready for our long trip from Tucson, Arizona to Dallas, Texas to receive my SRS surgery with Dr. Raphael at the American Institution for Plastic Surgery on the 19th of March 2015. It was currently 2am on the morning of the 17th of March but to me it felt more like Christmas eve. Dahlia seemed almost equally excited for me and so signaled me to finish my cup of tea so we could hit the road. We promptly drained the last dregs of our PG Tips tea which we'd imported from the UK (you can take the girl out of England, but never England out of the girl!) and keenly stood up to leave.

On standing I turned to face the window, expecting as usual to peek a glance at the beautiful and spectacular view of mount Lemmon in the near distance, but sadly it had been rendered invisible by the near moonless night sky. Instead I caught my own reflection staring back at me. Suddenly a very welcomed, timely and for me important sensation of peace rested over me. Let me explain...

Having dressed very casually and simply for the long journey ahead I'd chosen to wear a pastel yellow three quarter length sleeve top with black camisole underneath, skinny jeans and black ballet type flat shoes. As I gazed at my reflection in the now blackened glass of the living room window, a genuine sense of what I can only describe as utter relief and peace fell over me. A peace brought on not only by the day of my life changing SRS fast approaching, but also because in that reflection, for the very first time ever I could genuinely admit to only seeing a girl's face and body looking back at me. Something Dahlia and my friends had already tried to convince me of for going on two years.

Most of you transitioning women reading this will know exactly what I refer too here i'm sure. When we look in the mirror we tend to still see the old us, or put more accurately the person we always recognized before transition. In actual fact, after a couple of years of hormones, what we are actually seeing is mostly familiarity and not masculinity at all. After all, we are still the same person. I realize that now.

I've been fortunate enough to have never been mis-gendered or 'outed' during transition. Yet nevertheless, I'd struggled with a lack of confidence and self esteem concerning my 'pass'-ability and visual femininity. Yet here at last, right in time for my SRS surgery it was clear to even me that the hormones had done their job and any doubts i'd previously had melted away that morning, for which I am so very grateful.
I mention this milestone and blessing not as a childish boast but rather for good reason, which I could not have foreseen its importance for me during the next few awful weeks about to unravel on me, which will become more clear and unfold as we get deeper into all that transpired.

The road to completion

So that morning I excitedly jumped into our car feeling confident, settled and truly happy to at last be embarking on this long drive and journey that would ultimately spell the completion of a much greater transitional journey for me.

We loved our road trips together and as far as we were concerned the longer the drive the better! Since the day I met Dahlia we never once ran out of something to say or laugh about. When I first got to the States we drove from Las Vegas, through to Idaho, on to Washington State in the far north, then back to Idaho again and never shut the hell up once during the whole trip!

Last year myself, Dahlia and our dear friend Annie drove from our home in Tucson, across to California and journeyed up along the West coast, taking in the whole length of California, Oregon and on into Washington State again to meet our amazing friend Angela. We then drove from there to Idaho to meet up with our lovely friends Vanessa, Vibeke, Brea and David. From there we drove to Las Vegas for a couple of nights of fun. Then on to Phoenix to meet our wonderful friends Clare and Sue, before returning home at last to Tucson.
These were just wonderful experiences and we took in some amazing scenery too. Did we run out of chatter? Not for a second and this day would be no different.

The air that morning seemed charged with feelings of exited expectation and my senses tingled with its electricity as we drove out of Tucson. My heart and tummy felt as if they had butterflies dancing around in them, so much so that I felt breathless. Every time my thoughts focused on the fact that I would soon be free of that major focus of masculinity my heart flipped and skipped a beat, leaving me just a little light headed. The now close fulfillment of an end to my gender dysphoric attacks caused me to have to catch my breath with with its appealing promise.

After driving for a while I received some lovely good luck messages from my very dear and loved friend Katherine back in the UK, who's more like a sister to me than merely a friend. She wished me love and seemed so excited for me, it was really nice. She reminded me of how I myself had texted her and kept her company while she drove out to undergo her own SRS surgery back in England just a few months previous. Now she was doing similar for me as I had no doubt she would and it truly blessed me to hear her genuine joy and love for me.

Another hour or two on as daybreak broke, more well wishes from friends in the States began to pour in. Could this finally be really happening for me? It seemed so, although it still felt somewhat unreal. Already it rated as one of the most wonderful days of my life, only pinnacled by the birth of my children. This was it... my hopes and dreams finally coming true and it felt wonderful. At last I was to be free from the prison of Dysphoria and its bitter physical contradiction.
Peace and wholeness were now only two days away, yet I was not 100% as settled as I should have or would like to have been and likewise neither was Dahlia:

I'm not usually one to be easily shaken, nor one to allow myself to put too much emphasis or faith on visions and signs, yet something that had happened less than a week earlier did manage to unsettle me enough to feel apprehensive.

We were driving 200 miles north to Phoenix, to spend an evening with our friends Clare and Sue as a pre-operative celebration. Around two thirds the way into the journey I looked around at Dahlia as the car seemed a little all over the place. She was as white as a sheet and starting to cry. I asked her what could be wrong and she said that she'd rather not say at this time, as it was nothing I needed to hear right now. Obviously I pressed her and finally she said that she had just had what she could only describe as the most vivid vision. A vision so tangible to feel completely real had just played out before her eyes. I'd have laughed it off if she wasn't so pale and shaking. I begged her to tell me the details and after much refusal she relented:

In this vision which had seemed so very lifelike to her, to the extent that she could all but smell the car fumes; our car was turning over and over during an awful crash. I myself flew out of the windscreen and had landed a few feet to the front side of the car. Dahlia finally regained consciousness and opened her eyes to find me thrown out of the car and sprawled motionless with my eyes wide open covered in blood. She screamed my name and tried to pull herself out of the car to aid me, but not only was she stuck, she was paralyzed from the head down. Again and again she repeatedly screamed out my name in vain, totally helpless to reach or help me in any way.

Even some time after her explaining the vision to me she continued to sob gently to herself and mourning over feeling so helpless to save or help me, almost as if being held back from intervening. A feeling I know would have been utter torment and torture for Dahlia as she has always been my solid rock at times of trouble or anguish..

Honestly, for at least the next two or three days she remained just as equally upset and disturbed by it, mentioning it again and again and getting visibly distressed. I felt sick to my stomach to see her so shook up, as well as feeling apprehensive myself at the vision's impact on her. It deeply touched me just how much she clearly loved me. So the both of us were watching the road intently as we traveled down it that day. Neither of us could possibly have known or believed that this vision would indeed come to pass, all be it metaphorically.

Sweets for my sweet

As my surgery was to be in two days I had been given a strict and light diet to adhere too, so there was to be none of the usual feasting in the car.
I was however allowed to eat jelly candy for which Dahlia had supplied in copious amounts for us, so I enjoyed a sugar rush on top of my elation and adrenaline. (Do we know how to say 'WIRED!'

We chatted, we sang to music and we giggled a lot even though neither of us had slept enough - God bless caffeine and sugar!

Finally, after over four hours of driving we pulled off the road for a leg stretch and bathroom stop. Another hour and we would be entering into the south west corner of Texas. One more State about to be ticked off my visit list, how exciting. Of course we had traveled through parts of New Mexico that morning also, but seeing as we had not stopped I couldn't really justify counting it as a State visit nor tick it off my list, even though I'd mentally tried to talk myself into doing so... Bugger! I saw it though. Very nice! Zoom... gone...! "Are we there yet?"

Another few slugs of caffeine laced energy drink and a few more handfuls of jellies and once again we were wired and alert. We drove on further and were soon approaching the boundary of Texas and its first south western city of El Paso, which would also bring us the closest we would get to the Mexican border. So close in fact that at some points along that route we were no more than 40 meters from the border fences, allowing us to look straight into Mexico itself.

It was quite shocking for me to see the stark difference between the two nations living conditions. The US was clearly far more affluent, where as gazing over the boarder into Mexico you could physically see the poverty and over cramping of the population, houses and streets. I found the juxtaposed comparison to be almost disturbing.

El Paso could have been Mexico itself to me, at least in culture and it's majority population. Almost everyone I could see was Mexican or of Mexican origin and clearly the atmosphere, shops, posters, signs, restaurants, clubs and just about everything else seemed mostly Hispanic. It seemed a bustling city of neon signs, crazy traffic, Latino people, music and life.

To be continued...