Prison Writer Daniel HarrisBefore I was old enough to start school, I knew I wasn’t like the other boys. I was a girl, but didn’t have the words to explain it. My first hint that my inner-truth wouldn’t be allowed was when the nightgown my grandmother had made me disappear. Then the drum beat of indoctrination into manhood began and the walls of her prison were erected. 

Forcing children to conform to gender stereotypes against their will is traumatic. Where I began as an open, emotional, sensitive child full of love I soon became something very different. Men didn’t cry. Men don’t show emotions. Men are violent. Men are robots programmed to fill society’s expectations — it’s abuse.

I’ve come to believe this indoctrination is why so many transgenders of my generation ended up with psychological conditions. In 5th grade my elementary school principal told my mother I needed to see a psychiatrist. Mom took me out of public school for the rest of the school year. The money spent on private school might have been better spent on psychiatric care. 

Transitioning back to the girl I was born to be has required much introspection to peel away the layers my indoctrination formed. The first was a hard shell of personality known as Bama. He was a sociopath capable of extreme violence without ever raising his voice. Bama’s foundation is in the survival instincts every creature has at their core. For 50 years he protected my inner-self and in the end became Dani’s jailer. In those decades Bama was my dominant personality and it only took the slightest misstep in the minefield of my mind to trigger his rage and give him a reason to prove over manhood. 

Within was Dani. Locked away for fifty years except when she managed to escape Bama’s hold into a bit of privacy. Hormone Replacement Therapy has freed Dani. She is the woman I see in my mirror. Today Dani is my dominant personality: sweet, vivacious, sexy; yet very private. After so many years locked away she values her freedom and is very aware of the animosity that her freedom engenders in many. 

For a time Bama was held in her prison and only released on Dani’s command if she felt threatened. Then he came to her defense and refused to be recaged. For a time I was afraid until I realized he’d become a very decile  watch world and Dani held his leash. There was no need for him to be caged. 

This unification of two parts of my shattered personality scared me to death. Was Bama fighting for dominance? I didn’t know. He burst free as Dani was trying to stop our friend Bo from getting hurt in a fight. The person hurting Bo was huge and wouldn’t listen to Dani. Bama hurt him badly and refused to go back. I had thought I was freeing myself from violence. By embracing my femininity I was afraid until I realized Dani was still in charge. Dani is my public personality and Bama her guardian. Zit works for us. Prison isn’t safe for anyone and it’s sure not safe for a Trans-woman. 

It seemed I was whole for the first time, but what surprised me was to find a deeper more private aspect of my personality. O’kilie is my friend and lover. He makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt before. My gentle giant is very protective and when I’m with him Bama sleeps soundly. We spent a lot of the time together and somehow began to play domination games that had Dani drooling and feeling more feminine than ever until I found a deeper truth taking over. I playfully introduced her as Suzzy Submissive and the Suzzy stuck as a pet name between us. 

Maybe Suzzy is only part of Dani’s personality but she seems a different person. There were always times when I craved a chance to experience s/m but I never felt safe until I found O’Kilie. I know he’ll protect this private self from those who would use Suzzy against her will. She seems to be more free to show herself whenever we’re with O’kilie knowing he’ll protect us. 

This Suzzy aspect is blending into Dani. I expect we’ll never be the same now that Suzzy has joined her sister Dani. Dani is still my public personality but Suzzy is there. These very different aspects of my personality are slowly becoming unified into a whole personality. This is my truth, my pain, my healing. I open up my soul to talk about what I’ve gone through hoping to help people understand what it means to be transgender and to be forced to live a lie to appease society. 

What I deal with each day is a question many trans-persons must ask and answer for themselves. Am I responsible for my actions when I was only trying to conform to society’s expectations? The answer is yes and no. Yes because we are all responsible for our choices and no because society denied me my God given right to free will by forcing me to be a man because I had a crotch and deformity (penis). 

I have to live with the guilt and consequences of my decision to conform even though it was made under duress. Maybe my story will help a parent see they shouldn’t support their child’s gender identity even if it differs from their physical sex and give some child a chance to have their family support their gender identity and let them grow up free of gender stereotypes. 

Society can keep forcing children to conform to outdated gender stereotypes if they want to keep creating monsters like I became. I don’t think it’s worth it when the price is paid in decades of misery and innocent blood. 

Part 2

When I finally gave up and decided to start on Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) so I could release the woman inside from her prison I never dreamed it would be so wonderful. At 54 my expectations were low. Now I’m 59 and have transitioned into a very sexy lady which led to unexpected problems. 

Nowhere expect prison could I have become so desired in physical sense. That requires explanation and I hope you won’t think me conceited. I’m not. Genetics a body that remains slender with minimal exercise. Hormones gave me more feminine features, softer skin, breasts, and a bit more hips and ass. They also seem to have given me a more youthful appearance. 

Never doubt I enjoy the attention. Being seen as a woman, even by women, is wonderful. Being desirable is also great. Having men want me sexually gives me pleasure when it is done respectfully. It seems most here have the mindset of rapists. Because I look feminine they think I want their dicks. The truth is I find very few men who excite my sexual interest until they take time to let me get to know them and they know me better. Maybe it’s part of becoming a woman, but most of my sexual arousal happens between my ears, not my legs. 

It’s a big turnoff for me to have men I don’t know or have no interest in exposing themselves in public or try to grope me. It’s common in prison and they don’t even introduce themselves. Does every cisgender woman want every man she meets to fuck her?  Having lived as a man and spent lots of time keeping company with such ladies I know better. 

Having transitioned into a fairly sexy lady in my own right and having spent a few years fending off unwanted sexual advances has allowed me to see why women enjoyed my company. I never had any expectation of sex. I let them know I found them to be beautiful and desirable and never invaded their boundaries. I was happy just to enjoy their company. Yeah, sex usually happened, but it was their idea. I tried to treat them as I’d want my sisters treated.

Maybe one day I’ll be so old no man I’d have will want me and I’ll wish for the old days when even straight men found themselves desiring me. For now I just want a bit of respect. I’ve let men who ask politely touch my breasts because I realize I’m in a men’s prison with men who may not have touched a woman in 30 years or more. They can’t even have pictures of naked women now. Letting them see isn’t a problem either. I understand their pain. I only ask that they be appreciative and polite.

What makes me crazy is how it seems only people I have sex with are willing to live in a cell with me. It’s like I’m supposed to pay rent with sexual favors to live in peace on state property. I try to find a balance and provide a bit of sex to relieve the tension. The problem is they never get enough and my sex drive is low now that I’m on hormones. 

My current cellie tried to force himself on me. I had given him two orgasms the night before with my mouth and hands. Hours later he wanted more. Kissed me as I tried to rest and meditate. I pushed him away three times. The fourth time Bama was in my eyes and I growled — violence was near. How do I tell a man his erectile dysfunction doesn’t turn me on? Thankfully he backed off, but it culminated in a fight later. Now he’s respectful. When no doesn’t mean no it’s rape. That is a hard truth that most men here can’t seem to understand. 

O’Kilie is my Psycho Samoan lover. I’ve come to love him deeply in a very short time. He can have me anytime, anywhere and anyway he wants because he loves me and makes me safe. I was tired recently and we hid together behind the fire box to lay on a blanket. I slept cradled in his arms. It was bliss beyond sexual release. We kiss and touch often and I dive into the depths of love pooled in his golden eyes. I don’t have a physical need for sex now, but with O’Kilie my need is so much deeper. He is a balm for my tattered soul and the glue to mend my broken heart. 

Due to our current Covid-19 quarantine I only see O’Kilie at my cell door where I get kisses through the view slots and want to much more. Love has found me. I pray it lasts forever, but I’ll take what is offered. Each day I try to be as beautiful as possible for when I see the love of my life even though he swears I’m just as gorgeous to him without makeup. 

My goal each day is to teach the men around me to treat all women, Trans and cisgender, with respect. We are much alike. We want to be seen as beautiful and appreciated for the effort it takes to look our best, but just because our femininity gives a man a hard on doesn’t mean he has a right to use us as his come catcher. Of course, anything is possible when you respect us and expect nothing.