This is a blog. On it are fannish squees, liberal politics, and the occasional personal post.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
dumbthingswhitepplsay | transfeminism:
These are graph from “Injustice at Every Turn” showing rate of sexual assault in jail/prison. The first graph is the rates of sexual assaults for trans women by race. The rates break down as follows:
- Nineteen percent of all trans women who went to jail/prison
- Thirty-eight percent of Black trans women
- Thirty percent of America Indians trans women
- Twenty-five percent of trans Latinas
- Twenty-four percent of multiracial trans women
- Twelve percent of White trans women
- Too small of a sample to report for Asian Pacific Islander trans women
According to “Injustice at Every Turn,” a report of institutionalized discrimination against trans people: “Transgender women of color were particularly vulnerable to sexual assault in jail/prison. Thirty-eight percent (38%) of Black [trans women] respondents reported being sexually assaulted by either another inmate or a staff member in jail/prison.”
Multiracial, Latina, Black and American Indian trans women are twice to more then three times as likely as White trans women to be sexually assaulted in prison.
This is the only statistic in the report that simultaneously accounts for both the race and gender of participants. Taken by themselves trans women and trans people of color experience higher rates of discrimination than trans men, nonbinary and white trans people.
The second graph shows sexual assault rates in prison/jail by gender. The rates are for trans women:
- Eighteen percent by inmates
- Seven percent by staff
- Twenty percent by anyone
For trans men:
- Two percent by inmates
- Four percent by staff
- Six percent by anyone
For all trans people:
- Fourteen percent by inmates
- Seven percent by staff
- Sixteen percent by anyone
Gender nonconforming people:
- Six percent by inmates
- Four percent by staff
- Eight percent by anyone
Trans women in jail/prison are three to nine times as likely to be sexually assaulted by inmates, nearly twice as likely to be sexually assaulted by staff, and about three (2.5 - 3.33) times as likely to be sexually assaulted by anyone when compared to trans men and gender nonconforming people in jail/prison.
The third graph shows sexual assault rates in prison/jail by race. These break down for all trans people who went to jail/prison:
- Thirteen percent by inmates
- Six percent by staff
- Fifteen percent by anyone
American Indians (sample size too small for reliable analysis):
- Twenty-seven percent by inmates
- Eighteen percent by staff
- Twenty-seven percent by anyone
Asian Pacific Islander (sample size too small for reliable analysis):
- Six percent by inmates
- Six percent by staff
- Eleven percent by anyone
Black:
- Thirty-two percent by inmates
- Nine percent by staff
- Thirty-four percent by anyone
Latin@:
- Twenty-one percent by inmates
- Seven percent by staff
- Twenty-four percent by anyone
White:
- Seven percent by inmates
- Four percent by staff
- Nine percent by anyone
Multiracial:
- Fourteen percent by inmates
- Eight percent by staff
- Sixteen percent by anyone
With a similar break down to that of the first graph showing race and gender, trans people of color in jail/prison are significantly more likely to be sexually assaulted when compared to White trans people in jail/prison.
well what do you know it’s exactly what i was talking about this morning
and looky who’s at the top of the list
The prisoners whose scorched bodies were carried out piece by piece Thursday morning from a charred Honduran prison had been locked inside an overcrowded penitentiary where most inmates had never been charged, let alone convicted, according to an internal Honduran government report obtained by The Associated Press.
More than half of the 856 inmates of the Comayagua farm prison north of the Central American country’s capital were either awaiting trial or being held as suspected gang members, according to a report sent by the Honduran government this month to the United Nations.
A fire started by an inmate tore through the prison Tuesday night, burning and suffocating screaming men in their locked cells as rescuers desperately searched for keys. Officials confirmed 358 dead, making it the world’s deadliest prison fire in a century.
Survivors told horrific tales of climbing walls to break the sheet metal roofing and escape, only to see prisoners in other cell blocks being burned alive. Inmates were found stuck to the roofing, their bodies fused to the metal.
How Knitting Behind Bars Transformed Maryland Convicts
In late 2009, Lynn Zwerling stood in front of 600 male prisoners at the Pre-Release Unit in Jessup, Maryland. “Who wants to knit?” she asked the burly crowd. They looked at her like she was crazy.
Yet almost two years later, Zwerling and her associates have taught more than 100 prisoners to knit, while dozens more are on a waiting list to take her weekly class. “I have guys that have never missed one time in two years,” Zwerling says. “Some reported to us that they miss dinner to come to class.”
Zwerling, 67, retired in 2005 after 18 years of selling cars in Columbia, Maryland. She didn’t know what to do with her time, so she followed her passion and started a knitting group in her town. No one came to the first meeting, but the group quickly grew to 500 members. “I looked around the room one day and I saw a zen quality about it,” Zwerling says. “Here were people who didn’t know each other, had nothing in common, sitting together peacefully like little lambs knitting. I thought, ‘It makes me and these people feel so good. What would happen if I took knitting to a population that never experienced this before?’”
Her first thought was to bring knitting to a men’s prison, but she was turned down repeatedly. Wardens assumed the men wouldn’t be interested in a traditionally feminine hobby and worried about freely handing out knitting needles to prisoners who had been convicted of violent crimes. Five years passed before the Pre-Release Unit in Jessup accepted her, and Knitting Behind Bars was born. “I [wanted to teach] them something that I love that I really believe will make them focus and happy,” Zwerling says. “I really believe that it’s more than a craft. This has the ability to transform you.”
The men were reluctant at first, complaining that knitting was too girly or too difficult. But Zwerling assured them men had invented the craft, then gave them a five-minute knitting lesson she swears can teach anyone. Suddenly, Zwerling says, the men “found the zen,” and got hooked. Now, every Thursday from 5 to 7 p.m., they come to class, leaving their crimes and the hierarchies of prison life behind.
They started by knitting comfort dolls, which they gave to children removed from their homes because of domestic issues. Then they moved on to hats for kids at the inner-city elementary school many of the prisoners attended, Zwerling says. “If you look at them, they’re covered with tattoos, they’re rough looking, and many of the young guys don’t have all their teeth,” she says. “But it doesn’t feel rough. They’re very respectful and grateful and very happy to knit.”
The prison’s assistant warden, Margaret Chippendale, believes the men involved with KBB get into trouble less often. “It’s very positive because you can see when you go into the room, the dynamics of their conversation; very calm, very soothing,” Chippendale says. “It radiates even when they leave the room and go out into the institution.”
Richy Horton, 38, served almost four years at the Pre-Release Unit and reluctantly joined KBB about 6 months before he was released. “I was like, I’m not going to that thing,” Horton says. “And then I went, and you were actually speaking to real people. People can’t really understand [that in prison] you’re completely separated from anything normal or real in the world. You’re always told what to do and when to do it, so to have people come in and treat you like a human being means so much. They came in and they were like my mom.”
Horton and the other men formed deep friendships with Zwerling and her fellow volunteers, Sheila Rovelstad, 61, and Lea Heirs, 58. “They tell us their stories and dreams,” Zwerling says. “And some of them lie to us. They don’t want us to know the really terrible things they did.”
Each week the men eagerly await the women’s arrival, then promptly get to work. “It takes you away a little,” Horton says. “You have to watch what you’re doing, otherwise your stitches will become loose or tight or you’ll skip stitches. It almost makes you feel like you don’t have to be anything. You’re all sitting there knitting. You can just be yourself.”
Horton was released from prison last December and now works in construction. He believes his involvement with KBB helped him get out of jail and onto parole, showing the parole interviewers his small but positive effort to help the outside community. He continues to keep in touch with the women of KBB and is currently knitting a beaded scarf. “They’re not normal people,” Horton says of Zwerling, Rovelstad, and Heirs. “They’re almost like saints.”
To donate to Knitting Behind Bars, visit their Etsy shop, or contact Lynn Zwerling at lynnzwerling@verizon.net.
Photos courtesy of Lynn Zwerling
Via the Baltimore Sun
This is beautiful!
being seeing this around. it’s really beautiful, especially:
- what they’re creating can be for them - or for charity, but it isn’t like the bullshit programs that “Train” inmates only to sell the products of their labor without paying the inmates, or pays them very little
- “It almost makes you feel like you don’t have to be anything” makes me cry
- as does “People can’t really understand [that in prison] you’re completely separated from anything normal or real in the world. You’re always told what to do and when to do it, so to have people come in and treat you like a human being means so much.”
this… is one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time ;~~~;
This needs all of the dollars to be implemented in every prison in the U.S.
