TW/CW: Descriptions of forced strip searches and mentions of sexual harassment and abuse

With a metal ID clip in my right hand, along with my sequined bobby pin, watch, and ring, I walked through the metal detector with my hands raised over my head. A uniformed woman holding a rubber bullet gun waved me past. I was “free” to join the other metal-detected women on the incline leading out of the area. I should have worn my jacket. The wind was beginning to blow, and the air felt wet. Rain was coming. A storm was brewing.

On Feb. 7, the Tactical Squad of the Georgia Department of Corrections (GDC) paid a visit to Lee Arrendale State Prison. Their mission was to search and seize any illegal contraband from the institution. All 576 women who resided in the largest housing unit (B-Unit) were forcibly strip-searched en masse, forced to remove all their clothing and expose themselves in view of their fellow inhabitants under direct threat of violence or disciplinary action.

We waited outside for more than 30 minutes before walking slowly downhill toward an old condemned dorm. It was 46 degrees. I really should have worn a jacket. We were told to put our hands behind our backs and walk. Numerous men and women in uniform surrounded us, aggression and menace seeping through their pores. Some older women had trouble walking downhill with their hands behind their backs. In truth, it was difficult for everyone. Those with guns had no compassion and screamed at the older women to hurry up because “they ain’t got all day.” The women who needed canes to walk were also told to put their free hand behind their backs.

Once we were outside the condemned building, a gun-wielding woman commanded us to form two separate lines. We rushed to do so. Our fear and confusion were palpable. I had never felt a rubber bullet, and I preferred to maintain my ignorance for another day.

I was in the second line. A uniformed woman came out of the waiting area of the dilapidated building. She screamed for the first 20 women to enter. They have no choice but to comply. You either complied or got shot. 

Our fear mounted as we entered the building. It was eerily quiet. My line looked like it was being slowly eaten by the doorway. When we were called, our spines snapped straight. Our eyes were wide and wary.

The asphalt crunched under my feet as I walked under armed escort into the waiting area. Someone commanded that I walk around a second metal detector and fall in line behind the other women lining the hallway.

“Hands behind your back. No talking. Heads forward. Eyes forward.”

The narrow cinder block hallway echoed with the sound of feet shifting on the sticky tile floor.

“Next five!”

No one knew where the first five had gone or what was happening to them—until we heard them cough.

It was at this moment that I realized I could recognize my friends and chosen family members by the sound of their coughs. This realization brought a mist of tears to my eyes. How abused and violated we had been, collectively, that I could recognize loved ones by the sounds of their degradation.

I was called in with the next queue. I was third in line with two women in front of and behind me. We were lined up facing a wall inside a dormitory room. 

“Face the wall. Take off all your clothes. Put them on the floor behind you. “

I began removing my clothing as fast as I could. We all did. The air was charged with the consequences of refusal, which would most certainly result in violence. There was an understood rush. We had to hurry.

I left my clothing in a messy pile behind me, next to the corpse of an upturned cockroach. We stood on the frigid concrete floor, barefoot and completely naked. Grit stuck to my feet. I tried not to think about what I was standing in.

My eyes were glued forward. The other naked women with me seemed to do the same. We tried to offer as much privacy to each other as we could, though we were well within touching distance. Those in uniform continued to shout at us.

“Arms out beside you. Spread your feet. Bend at the waist, pull your butt cheeks wide apart, and cough hard five times. Harder! Cough until I tell you to stop! Don’t play with me. You do as I say when I say. Do not turn around. Stand straight. Spread your legs wider. Squat to the floor and cough hard five times. You piss on my floor, you clean it up. You bleed on my floor, you clean it up. Turn around and face me. “

As we turned around, we realized that five other women on the other side of the room were doing the same thing. We were in full view of the other women. They were in full view of us.

“Bend forward at the waist, shake out your hair. I said take your fuckin’ hair down and shake it out! Stand up. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue. Get your clothes back on. Tuck your shirts in. File out in a single file. No talking. Heads forward. Eyes forward.”

We rushed to obey. We rushed to get dressed. Tears streamed down several faces as we marched outside to stand in line and wait on the others to finish.

Under the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) implemented in 2012, the GDC is mandated to protect both staff and the incarcerated from sexual abuse and harassment and claims to have a zero-tolerance policy regarding all forms of sexual abuse, harassment, and activity.

This policy, however, does not protect us from being forced to violate each other under instruction. While we may be protected from being physically sexually assaulted under federal guidelines, we are in no way protected from being strip searched and forced to expose ourselves in view of others under either normal or “exigent circumstances.” 

Protections against this form of abuse are wholly absent from the minimum standards of PREA protection. Staff can and do cite “official duty” as their defense in regards to strip searching multiple women at one time in full view of each other. We are degraded, debased, and stripped of our bodily agency. 

In no other sphere of life would these abuses of power be tolerated. In most spheres of life these actions would be seen as crimes and the implementers criminals.

The GDC employs a “grievance” process, which allows incarcerated people to document and report behaviors and actions taken by staff that are against policy. However, according to the PREA, bodily violations like community strip searches or body searches are not applicable to the grievance process. Furthermore, the agency that enacted the forced search is not employed by Arrendale, so any documentation or grievance filed would be denied under the provision of “exigent circumstances.”

There is no protection for women who are incarcerated from being forced to violate each other under direct instruction from the staff. What does this tell us about our collective opinion in regards to women’s rights? Women who temporarily live in total institutions such as prison are still, in fact, women. Women who are incarcerated temporarily and are forced to perform and endure such debasement will one day be released with state-inflicted traumas for which there is no recourse. This powerlessness is violently reinforced upon a population that already experiences extreme instances of powerlessness due to their sociolegal status. These procedures also normalize sexual harassment, coercion, and abuse by beings assumed to be more powerful than those they abuse. The women know their only choices are to comply or be forced to comply with violence. 

This is what the Department of Corrections teaches us.

The Right to Write (R2W) project is an editorial initiative where Prism works with incarcerated writers to share their reporting and perspectives across our verticals and coverage areas. Learn more about R2W and how to pitch here.