The Injustice of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice

K. Anderson

Correctional Officer II

March  9th 2013

I wake up in the morning to the sound of a chirping bird that is the alarm clock on my phone at 03:50 am to get dressed in my gray monkey suit. I go to the restroom, shave, iron uniform, put it on with black socks with black shinny boots, of bureaucratic bull shit shinning threw. I get my ID, watch, gas holder, sweat rag, and hat off the kitchen table that I have left from the night before. I grab breakfast out of the fridge , give my dog some food and water. Lock her up in her cage for the day, while I am off at work and hope that she doesn’t break find a way to break free like the inmates in administrative segregation at the unit I work; high security, Estelle in Riverside, Texas,USA.

A little back story on me:

I am from Bozeman,MT. A little hick town in the middle of no where. I came from a Marine Corps family and am a head strong smart ass leader due to my family roots and will not stand for bull shit and drama in my life. So, me being that why has lead me into many problems working in high security for the Estelle unit.  I got out of high school tried college at Montana State University for a degree in music and theater and that fell threw the cracks. Then went to the Army recruiter and told him too much and red flagged myself. Thus went with the Navy and that didn’t pan out. Found a girl  in there though and got sent back to Montana. Joined Wally World aka Wal-mart and saved up some cash and came down to Texas to be with her. Was with her and her family for 8 months and that didn’t work out. Her father Sgt. Thompson at the Ellis unit and mom was in Human Resources for 18 years.

So, me being at work has not turned out that great.

For I am a transgender pansexual man.

I am open to every walk of life and am an open book. I have my own personal boundaries but they are far smaller and more flexible then the average person. But if you try to fuck with me, I will fuck you even harder.

So being out in the real world and trying to be me is hard. I understand everyone has their trails and tribulations, but for God’s sake why do mine have to be so God damned hard ?!?

My family that raised me doesn’t really give a fuck about me and just wants me to be the girly girl they envisioned me to be. My mom doesn’t like the way I am but still loves me for me. My dad is kinda happy that he has his SON and my step-mom excepts me for me and just wants me to be happy. Mr. Klovensky doesn’t give a fuck about me other then my money and Ms. Yount fells the same way. I get along with everyone fine in my unit but certain people plus supervisors I do not.

For the past three weeks I have been having it out with Lieutenant Demoss, Sergeant Jordan, and Sergeant Harrison. I don’t trust them with my family problems, personal girlfriend issues or work related issues. I go through my chain of command and try to get my issue across to them all about my issues with Lt. Demoss but it seems that my supervisors / elders don’t give a God damned fuck about the lonely lowly Correctional Officer trying to make it into rank. I understand I am new to the system of Texas. But fuck! All states have about the same regulations on prisoners plus mentally ill people and everyone wishes to be a damned Chief and not an Indian in this tribe of Stupidity. “Life is hard, but it is harder when you are stupid.” An old John Wayne saying my Grandfather John Thomas Cummins Jr. would tell me from his 25 year experience in the marine corps. Going in as a private and climbing up the ladder to Lieutenant colonel and getting kicked out for sticking up for his men before licking the boots of his superior, which I will not do either.

K. Anderson

 

USN- United States Navy-2012

I was raised by my Marine Corps Granddaddy and Grandma Poppy.

They did the best that they could raising me with 1950 stereotypes of what a woman is to be and tweaking it some with the 21st Century.

My grandfather trained me for the military with the way the house was run. He was my drill sergeant and my grandmother my medical captain.

My grandfather was in the Marines for 25 years and retried as a Lieutenant Colonel.

I was his side kick and private growing up with them from the age of 5 and up. So 13 years of republican military bull shit I had to endure.

When I turned 18 and graduated from high school in 2011.

It was get a job, go to college, or enlist in the military.

I always thought about going in but didn’t at that time.

Went to college for 3 months, tried to face the gay bashing head on due to being an out lesbian in Bozeman, Montana at Montana State University.

That didn’t last long. Thus, I enlisted in the Navy.

6 months after waiting and doing a shit ton of paper work.

I went in 2012 of March. The month of my birthday.

I was horrible the first night I was in.

A black woman in her early 20’s was yelling “FEMALE GET OVER HERE!”

Right as I walked off the bus.

I stated, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Next thing I know the petty officer is looking at me with her charcoal black eyes glaring into my ocean green glass covered orbs.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?”

“I apologize Ma’am.”

“FEMALE! YOU DON”T CALL ME MA”AM! LOOK AT MY RANK!”

I turn my head and see the three red stripes and eagle on her right upper shoulder, stating she is a petty officer, first class. By this time I am sobbing and anger is just rushing through my veins due to all the abuse my whole family gave me and using my coping skills at this moment as I get yelled at. I clinch my fists in balls ready to fight if I have to and just stare at the woman very sternly with anger in my eyes.

“I apologize Ma’am.” I state again, straight to her face in respect.

“GOD DAMN IT RECRUIT, I AM A MOTHER FUCKING PETTY OFFICER. PETTY OFFICER! GET THAT. IF YOU MA”AM ME ONE MORE TIME I AM SENDING YOU TO GO SEE CHIEF! UNDERSTOOD!’

I walk away  to get the clothes I need after taking the piss test in a bathroom with no walls and just toilets with 6 other girls and a officer over looking us feeling like a damn volunteer inmate.

The petty officer looks at me and tells me out of all the girls, standing straight in front of me with a grin glowing in her black spheres.

“STRIP TO YOUR UNDERWEAR FAGGOT!”

That just sends me over the edge.

I scream and shout back at her and it is 3 am in the morning as we get our things and move from getting NAVY clothes putting civilian things into a box to send home and then get sent to a classroom to get assigned our units.

I am sobbing and shaking and trying my damnest to keep myself under control. After the last comment shoved in my face after having to get through all the gay bashing from my family, friends, and college racing through my head.

The black petty officer comes up next to my desk and smirks.

“I DON”T WANT THIS GOOD FOR NOTHING RECRUIT IN MY UNIT!”

I hear the unit numbers ring off as they call for people with talents. And due to my attitude moment. Don’t get chosen for the musical squad. I get sent to the last unit they have. The underdogs. The worst of the worst recruits. The ones that didn’t bust their ass with hours of gym training like I did and are over weight. The ones that have attitude issues like my own and can’t keep it in check. We are the geeks the IT”s the computer nerds aka fuck ups in everyone else s eyes.

After that one  incident with the first petty officer. I am immediately FAGGOT. For they don’t just call me FEMALE. Like they are supposed to due to don’t ask don’t tell is not in effect anymore. Nope, I am Faggot.

I hear it day in and day out.

For two straight weeks. I bite my tongue and just act like a good little solider that my Grandfather trained me to be.

No thoughts, just a robot. No emotions, just a robot.

Do as I am told and move on.

Fucking easier said then done.

Thus, I got sent to separations and sent back home.

Due to my petty officer that signed me in not getting me a counseling wavier which I needed and the Medical Captain of the Great Lakes Recruit Training Center sends me to the mental health office.

The psychologist diagnosis me with Major Depression instead of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Due to my family bs and also so that I can possibly re enlist after 3 months of therapy and get signed off by said therapist.

Come back home from the Navy in 2012 after being marked as a mental health hazard.

Come home to my grandparents.

My Grandfather tells me,

“You’re a failure.”

US Navy Tribute – Hell Yeah (Music Video)