I woke up this morning with this nagging thought in my head about benevolent disobedience. So, I am asking that this is published in whatever medium you can send it to please, because I need to get this out of my head and heard.
“Not About That Life”
I am currently serving a 21 month federal prison sentence at FMC Lexington Satellite Camp aka “Camp Atwood”. I have been here since December 4th, 2024. A week after arriving here, one of my bunkies asked me about my life, and why I am here, and her response was, “Oh- so you’re not about that life”. I have thought a lot about her statement, and she’s right. But, I believe in benevolent disobedience, aka- “Good Trouble”.
A few years ago, I told my husband I was going to be arrested and wanted to warn him. This was long before my indictment. And should be a cautionary tale to anyone not to speak things into the universe. Georgia had just passed a law that it was illegal to eat or drink while standing in those very long lines to vote. So my plan was to join a group who would be in the election lines in Atlanta, on election day, and serving people food and water while they awaited their Constitutional right to vote. I always vote early, so my plan was to go down a couple days before Election Day and do this, and then get arrested and put my mugshot on a Christmas card for my family and friends. Little did I know, a year later, I would be federally indicted from a Grand Jury in July 2023. The idea I had for a mugshot and being sent to jail was no longer on my mind, I was now battling the justice system.
All my life I have had my voice suppressed. As a child, I was molested by my babysitter’s son for two years, and told that if I told my mom (she wasn’t married at the time), he would hurt my baby brother. So I was silent. I didn’t tell anyone until I was in middle school, and by that time, the justice system couldn’t really do anything. My mother and I have had a tumultous relationship my whole life, with emotional warfare and physical abuse. I felt my entire childhood that I wasn’t wanted, and tried desperately to get her to even like me as a person. Mothers Day is particularly challenging for me, as when I look at those cards, I cannot share the sentiment printed on them. Nonetheless, she is my mom- and I seeked acceptance and love from her for my whole life, begging therapists to help me understand why she treated me the way she did. But outwardly, I had to keep quiet about this relationship, because it makes people uncomfortable to hear you had a rough childhood.
When serving in the Air Force during Operation Desert Storm, I was raped and sodomized, tormented by a fellow airman. I was fortunate to have the help from two other airman, who came to my defense that night, and later became friends. I was sent to a psychiatrist who met with me a couple times that if I needed treatment for my rape, as I was in tech school, I would be medically discharged, and would have to wait 6 months to reenlist. I worked hard to make it through Basic Training and was not going to allow this man who raped me stop my ambitions, so I told them I would be “fine”. Once again, my voice was suppressed, and I ended up having a mental breakdown in my 30’s, and later when seeking help from the VA, ended up with a 70% Disability rating from the VA. I was finally going to get help for my PTSD, or so I thought. The VA was very helpful in my treatment, but since I have been to prison, it has subsided and nonexistent.
While battling this case, I have had my voice suppressed. I couldn’t talk about my case, and removed myself from Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and most social situations. This case overshadowed my existence, and caused mental turmoil for me, my husband and my children. And we couldn’t talk about it outside our immediate family bubble. Once closer to my sentencing date, we confided in a few friends, and sought therapy. I plead Not Guilty, and then, without having enough evidence in discovery to prove my innocence, No Contest. I hadn’t worked there in 7 years, and all of my emails and documentation that would combat the prosecution’s portrayal of me had “disappeared”. I only had a few emails and a voice recording from a forensic accountant saved. Not enough to prove my side of the story as to what really occured there. The judge granted my change in plea, but then at the sentencing, allowed the prosecution to have the two providers, the detective and a business analyst “testify” (even though it was supposed to be a sentencing) against me. My attorney didn’t call any witnesses for me, though I shared with him who he should call to help my case and poke holes in their stories. He did ask them a few questions which showed they perjured themselves on the stand, but that wasn’t enough. The judge sentenced me with 21 months, and said that he hoped that “prison would teach you a vocation that you finally become a productive member of society”. He hadn’t learned anything about me at all. I was working TWO jobs, one, negotiating and managing contracts for mental health and substance abuse hospitals and clinics, and another, serving the homeless and patients with SUD issues in Americorps (a role I proudly served up until my date of self-surender). He ignored my character letters, and believed what he was told, not learning about me at all. The prosecutor painted a picture of me that was false, and my voice once again, silenced. The justice system has absolutely no justice whatsoever. I was told to pay back $24,000 in restitution and selef report to prison on December 4th, 2024. I gave my attorney a check for $5000 towards the restitution that day, and was taken away from the US Marshalls. I was numb. I was angry. I was finally broken. I didn’t cry until I got into the car with my youngest son, and broke down. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction to see me break.
One of the hardest days of my life was walking up to the prison, and turning around one final time to look at my husband, who was sobbing in the Subaru. I will never get that image out of my head. Once again, I had to be resilient. I have a loving husband and seven children to be strong for. I wouldn’t allow prison to break me. And now, after many eye opening experiences in prison, and several months, I will no longer my voice to be suppressed. I literally do not have a voice today. It is shallow, and sore, from many months of inadequate medical care, as the BOP medical team here refuses to give me antibiotics. I have been sick since December, with respiratory and sinus ailments, begging for antibiotics and prednisone, and buying whatever OTC medications I can to put a bandaid on my symptoms. I no longer can sing in the church choir, as my voice sounds like a teenage boy going through puberty. The church choir has been one of the few experiences in prison to give me peace here, and now, it has been taken away.
So this morning, I woke up and decided to be a person of benevolent disobedience once again. I have quietly been the voice for many inmates in this prison. Helping them with letters for their remediation, or grievances with the BOP. Most of the women in here are illiterate. They have said, “You have a gift of writing, and we appreciate you helping us”. Word got around quickly that if you want something done, and feel you are being treating unfairly, I would help them get their message across and get results. I taught Wednesday night bible lessons, which has now turned into a class called “Battlefield of the Mind”, based on the Joyce Myers book. The class is designed to help them find hope and positivity- getting out of the battlefield in their mind and find peace in prison. I also am teaching a class in a couple weeks in Education on interviewing, job seeking and resume writing. This class is something the women in here are excited for, as most of them need assistance with these skills, and I am happy to help them. I believe in life, it’s not a competition- everyone should win.
In hearing the stories of injustice, abuse and cruelty bestowed on the women serving their sentences along side me in this prison, it has emboldened me to want to do more to be their voice and make meaningful change within the justice system. My work in this has just begun. I am still focusing on the social determinants of health, and will continue my work with the homeless and people with severe mental health and substance use disorders, but I am doing advocacy now and moving forward for those who have been incarcerated. I will no longer have my voice be silenced.
