Has long-term incarceration completely fried my receptors from alerting me to danger in prison? We’ve all heard of fight or flight, and the additional freeze or fawn. This knee-jerk reaction is a part of our reptile brain, instinct coded into us from a much less evolved version of ourselves. We logically know how to retrain ourselves to not solely rely on our initial feelings in order to objectively take in the bigger picture before determining how to respond. The reason this trait still exists, however, is because it’s useful, often steering us from a dangerous and harmful situation without our notice. The tingle on the back of your neck that causes you to move to a more populated path; the undercurrent in an individual’s tone of voice that causes you to pause; the burst of adrenaline that courses through you when being confronted — all these are proof that the reptile section of your brain is in working order.
There are circumstances that can short-circuit this system, however. Being in a constantly stressful or dangerous environment can be especially significant. In formative years, being exposed can cause a person’s baseline warning levels to be skewed. Meaning, if you live in a space that stress levels regularly stay at a 10, when you’re exposed to a high-level stress later you don’t recognize it until the bigger picture observation takes place. If an adult is exposed to habitual abuse, warfare, or lengthy incarceration, their warning signals can become broken because of constant exposure to danger/stress. One constant about us: eventually humans adapt to whatever environment they’re in.
I started to worry about my reaction after long-term incarceration (versus what it would’ve been three years ago) even though my machinery was damaged way earlier than that. I was alerted that I would be getting a cellmate when the count cleared, and then I was told it would be a resident “serial killer.”
That should have triggered my reptile brain, right? But that’s not what happened. Instead of being sent signals of incoming danger, I only felt one thing: irritation. Not the totally expected or natural response of fear, just overwhelming annoyance because the person moving in with me was well-known for being a bad cellie. She was known for making hootch all the time, tattooing constantly, and thinking our cell was the chill zone for her and her friends. My day had just turned into a nightmare.
I realized my response was off when I got on the phone later that day. Complaining to a friend about my new terrible cellie, I didn’t mention her name or infamy right away. When asked, I divulged and was startled by her response. Concern, worry, and planning a route out of this situation were the only topics of several phone calls. My repeated responses — where I didn’t care about the serial killer thing and I was just pissed off she might get me hemmed up in her antics — did not make anyone feel more at ease. I called several other people and realized nobody was backing my case. It made me reflect.
I’d been incarcerated for 12 years and change when this happened. That’s a long time with constant exposure to dehumanizing treatment that little by little I had adapted to. I still would notice some things, but my baseline warning levels had been completely reset as a means of survival. Regular forced strip searches, random housing assignments that partnered me with so many violent offenders I’d lost count, the forced repression of my identity as a female person, and mandatory embodiment of an inmate with a six-digit number instead. I would’ve succumbed to panic attacks long ago if I hadn’t adapted.
I adapted so well I was able to sleep soundly after thoroughly cussing out my true-crime TV sensation cellmate. I only felt that warning flare once or twice in the 10 months we bunked together, which means those instances would’ve been alarmingly terrifying in normal reality. My ongoing issue with her was how she did her time, not her crime.
As I get closer to my release, I’m starting to really worry about this rewiring that has occurred in me. Will I put myself in situations that have a higher likelihood of danger or stress because it has become so normalized to me? I genuinely hope this won’t happen because the consequences outside of here are generally steeper than inside, which considering where I’m at is alarming in and of itself. How long will it take me to adapt to my new everyday and be able to feel confident in my assessment of anything?
This isn’t a problem I alone am subjected to. As a nation, we put so many people in inhumane environments then punish them again when their experience impacts them, like we know it will. We keep on sending young people into combat knowing the likely outcome, then shaming them for reacting exactly how a person should to their experience of horror.
The similarities between abusive relationships, warfare, and mass incarceration are there quite clearly for anybody who looks. That boils down to a whole lot of people out there who are unsure of whether they can trust their response, myself included. Maybe instead of asking ourselves why a person has responded in a particular way, we could ask ourselves what has transpired in his/her life to elicit their reaction, in other words, we should consider leading with empathy instead of judgement. It might be easier to rewire our baselines that way.
Ashleigh Smith #698500
Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility
3201 Bemis Road
Ypsilanti, MI 48197-0911
