Skip to main content

The First Day They Took My Name

 

I was seventeen when they shipped me off to the max yard in Missouri.

Seventeen. Not even old enough to buy cigarettes, but old enough for the state to throw me in with lifers, gang leaders, and men who’d already given up on the outside world. They called it intake. I call it the day they stopped seeing me as a kid and started seeing me as a number.

That number is stamped on everything—mail, ID, even my sheets. But it doesn’t belong to me. Not really. It belongs to them. It’s what they use when they erase your name, your history, your humanity.

They told me to strip. Squat. Cough. Cold tile under my feet, and eyes that didn’t see me—just scanned me like I was inventory. There was no respect. No decency. No one asked if I was scared. Because in prison, fear is weakness. And weakness will get you eaten alive.

They handed me a jumpsuit that didn’t fit, socks with holes, and slides that looked like they’d been through ten other cells before mine. I was told:

Don’t talk too much. Don’t look too long. Don’t trust anybody.

The holding cell was chaos. Some guys twitching from detox. Some pacing like caged animals. Others just… staring. Lost in whatever version of hell they’d been through to land there. I sat quiet, somewhere in the middle—too numb to cry, too young to understand just how deep this would all cut.

They didn’t know my story. That my childhood wasn’t a childhood at all. That my dad introduced me to meth at thirteen. That I hadn’t known peace or safety in years. They didn’t care. They weren’t there to help. They were there to process me like a piece of meat on a conveyor belt.

But even in that moment—stripped, numbered, and discarded—they didn’t get everything.

They didn’t take my mind.They didn’t take my story.And somewhere under the wreckage, they didn’t take my fire.

I didn’t have a son yet. I didn't have a wife yet. I didn’t have hope. I didn’t have anyone waiting for me on the other side. But I had breath in my lungs. And as long as I had that, they couldn’t break all of me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Exposing the Deadly Reality at La Palma Correctional Facility: How Many More Have to Die?

For years, La Palma Correctional Facility in Eloy, Arizona, has been a hotspot for controversy, yet little has been done to address the rampant corruption, officer misconduct, and systemic failures that have turned it into a living hell for those incarcerated within its walls. Most recently, another inmate has died—one of many whose deaths could have been prevented if those in charge had taken real action instead of covering up their negligence. On January 2, 2025, I fought to have my husband moved out of La Palma due to the sheer volume of drugs flooding the yard, which were being brought in by correctional officers. I reported specific names to the Special Security Unit (SSU), thinking that doing the right thing would bring change. Instead, my concerns fell on deaf ears. Now, here we are, with more inmates losing their lives—many of these deaths are suspected overdoses, yet little to no investigation ever seems to result in actual change. A History of Negligence and Deaths This lates...

The Beating You Weren’t Supposed to See: A Former AZDOC Officer Speaks Out

  Let me tell you something right now — that viral 3-minute video Fox 10 Phoenix aired last week? That wasn’t the whole story. That was just the tip of the blood-soaked iceberg. As a former Arizona Department of Corrections Officer, I know exactly what you're looking at in that video. You’re seeing the tail end of a brutal, calculated beatdown that started long before the cameras started rolling. That inmate? He’d already been dragged, pummeled, and bled out — by the time he was being chased down the entire length of the prison yard like a damn scene out of a gladiator movie. Fox 10’s report referred to it as a fight that “spilled out into the prison yard.” SPILLED OUT? Like someone knocked over a soda. No — this wasn’t some spontaneous scuffle. That man was hunted . Let’s Break Down the Bullsh*t Donna Hamm’s Comment: “The inmates are running the asylum, and that's not what the taxpayers in Arizona are paying for.” Newsflash: the inmates have always run the yard. Th...

Doing Time on the Outside: The Reality of Being a Prison Wife

"So I know prison wives get a lot of heat from people that don’t understand the life. It’s sad. But we struggle too. We’re serving time too. As much as I love and trust my husband, I will always fact check. These men are survivors with survivor mentality. They’re not in prison for being stand up men 😂 in fact, mine went in a liar and addict. In order to save money, I ask questions. If protecting myself and going behind his back to confirm, oh well. I’ll protect me since he didn’t, wouldn’t and couldn’t… and this is a safe place for LO’s to be able to come together and gather facts without shaming and blaming. A lot of times people will say 'why be with him if you don’t trust him?' That’s fair. But has anyone been in love before 😂 None of us woke up one day and said I’d love to marry a felon. Yet, here we are. I wake up everyday hoping he’d change his lifestyle 🤷🏼‍♀️ I just want women to know it’s okay to be a little on edge. A little apprehensive and untrustworthy. It’...