Welcome to Transform Dane. Transform Dane is a small and scrappy movement with a lot of work to do. We demand systemic change in mass incarceration of transgender people. We aim to amplify voices by gathering stories of experiences other trans and gender-nonconforming individuals have had in Wisconsin jails and prisons. We want to offer safe resources for trans and gender-nonconforming individuals, their friends, and their families. This site will also be the home of the blog, “Dear Mom…I’m Still Me,” the story of one man’s experience on each side of the law in Dane County, Wisconsin.

Arriba Abajo Al Centro Pa’ Dentro

December 19th, 2024|0 Comments

(Content warning: Alcoholism, Addiction, Trauma, Gender dysphoria) Dictacted 11.27.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, Word has made it back to me at the jail that I have readers who don’t know me at all, let alone as well as you know me. In any case, I am starting to feel that I need to back my story up a little bit. The previous entries, in all their brutal detail, are out there, and no longer live in my head rent-free. Recounting them here has exorcised some of the demons. I told you what I needed to say,

Hugs Not Jugs

December 15th, 2024|0 Comments

(Content warning: Transphobia, Microaggressions, AFAB chest terminology/slang, Discrimination, Incarceration, Law enforcement, Alcoholism) Dictated 12.9.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, Before I begin, I should warn you that what you're about to read, you’d constitute “being a smartass.” You may even detect a hint of sarcasm. Credit where credit is due; the world should know you raised me well. There was just so much contrariness stamped in my brain that there was no hope to be had in containing at all. But you also raised me to be respectful of the heroism demonstrated by members of law enforcement,

Six Floors and a Lifetime Apart

December 5th, 2024|0 Comments

(Content warning: Incarceration, law enforcement, suicide) Dictacted 11.25.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, Well, that one was a lot, wasn't it? I'm sorry, Mom, I would say I hope I didn't upset you, but I know that's not possible. I upset the people who had to edit it; I'm upset myself. It's upsetting, to say the least.  I don't know if I explained it before, but that's how I'm posting all this. Remember when I worked for the police department, and we dictated our reports into the phone, and then a stenographer typed them? It turns out

Airborne Intervention

December 2nd, 2024|0 Comments

(Content warning: Incarceration, addiction, drugs, law enforcement, suicide) Dictacted 11.24.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom,  As promised in my last post, I want to tell you more about what transpired between walking to the grocery store to buy heroin, and my arrest shortly thereafter. And yes, I’ll get to the alcohol. You see, Mom, my headstone would have read 9/11/88-11/15/24 if it weren't for the cops. I walked into the store after I completed the “transaction” that took place behind the building. (If it helps at all, I did buy a nice Caesar salad as well.) When

The Needle and the Damage Done

December 1st, 2024|0 Comments

(Content warning: Rape, incarceration, addiction, drugs, law enforcement, suicide) Dictacted 11.24.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom,  Well, that last one was a doozy; I'm well aware of that. Quite public and raw and not something we would normally talk about (let’s face it) ever, much less post publicly on the internet. Why don't we call that a family first? Well, this is part two. I have to get this out there in order for you to understand what the fundamental problem is, and why our communication, which had never faltered in our past, suddenly has.  Let

I’m Still Me

November 26th, 2024|1 Comment

(Content warning: Rape, sexual violence, incarceration, law enforcement, addiction, solitary confinement, misgendering, suicide watch, suicidal ideation) Dictacted 11.23.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, We’ve got to talk a little. The first time I was here in jail, I called you every day. Well, every day except for the eight days they had me on “precautions” (translation: suicide watch), despite me telling them daily I was not suicidal.  But they needed to justify why they put me in solitary confinement, and that was their opening gambit. Whenever I could, though, I called you every day. I think the

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