These Three Truths
(Content warning: Gender dysphoria, Incarceration, Transphobia, Law enforcement, Home invasion, Rape, Mental health, Suicidal ideation, Self-harm, Victim blaming, Alcoholism, Drug addiction) Dictacted 12.2.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, You know I've been trying to keep this light where I can, but at this point I need to make a couple things clear. There are three very important truths I want you to understand about my current jail stay. Truth #1 - Immediately prior to coming here, my home, the place I was virtually tethered to by the band around my ankle, where I was legally told I
The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves
(Content warning: Solitary confinement, Incarceration, Mental health, Medical neglect, Alcoholism, Drug addiction, Law enforcement, Suicidal Ideation, Restraints) Dictacted 12.1.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, You get used to a lot of noise in jail, but this morning was something special. All of a sudden we heard smacking, louder than I’ve ever heard, accompanied by quite a lot of yelling for 9:00 in the morning. I told you before that it’s been pretty peaceful in our cell block, and it has been. But next door, not so much. Some women here were more concerned with the drama. Who
Not Even an Alcoholic
(Content warning: Alcoholism, Recovery, Suicidal ideation, Mental health) Dictacted 11.28.24 from Dane County Jail, Madison, WI Dear Mom, Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. I wish we were spending it together. I was happy I got to talk to you today. It was really, really hard. But I'm happy I got to talk to you. Like I told you, we had turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots, and a whole mess of gravy to go with it. You know I don't really like gravy, but I ate it because the food needed all the help it could get. You perfected the art of the turkey
Arriba Abajo Al Centro Pa’ Dentro
(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
(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
(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
(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
(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
(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
Dear Mom
Dear Mom, This wasn't the blog you had hoped I'd write someday. I established that much in the one post I managed during my two months out of jail. Last time I sat here in Dane County Jail, I sat with the finger pointed at everyone but myself. How else do you survive life crashing down around you, hoping the fall comes at you no worse than anyone else, riding a ballistic missile aimed at self-destruction, only to find you've been sequestered away in some transgender layer of jail hell? That part, that one cruel part that wasn't your fault,
Origins
While staying in seg, you can expect to receive no commissary, no visitations, no mail, and no programming offered in the rest of the jail. You will never go outside or even see a window to remind you the world still exists beyond your walls. You do not bathe or shower, you do not speak to anyone, nor are you spoken to. You effectively exist as an object placed in a room designed for total and complete sensory deprivation.
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