I first realized I like boys at a pool party at my best friend’s house when I was 12. I stayed after everyone left to help him clean up. When we were changing our clothes in his bedroom, I knew. 

We were in a relationship for two years when he was killed, and I became lost. Drugs dulled the pain, but I also thought they could kill the gay person inside me. In losing him, I lost the safety to be the person I was. 

I started to have feelings of being a girl in high school. But it would be decades before the confusion cleared enough for me to explore that possibility. I tried being with women, and even had a son. But things never ended well. Eventually, I was sent to prison.

Going to prison for the first time can be terrifying for anyone. That fear is compounded when your gender identity or sexual orientation makes you a bigger target for abuse. I had struggled with confusion around my gender identity long before I became incarcerated. Once inside, I knew transgender women were at higher risk of victimization. 

A new California law in 2020 gave me a path to living as my authentic self. But I almost never made it to that point.

A betrayal, then a realization

When I first went to prison in 1990, I was angry at everyone except myself. I was also scared. I didn’t know what to expect. But I learned how to survive fast. 

I was put in a cell with a guy who acted like my friend at first. I was open with him that I was gay. I didn’t realize at the time how dangerous my openness would be. 

A few months later, two of my cellie’s friends came to our cell to do meth. Right after my turn, they ambushed me. My cellie and his two friends beat me, tied me up and took turns raping me. They threatened to stab me if I went to the guards.

Instead, I tried to take revenge. I wanted to hurt them. When guards stopped me, I told them what had happened. One of the sergeants blamed me. He asked whether I had prostituted myself for drugs. They placed me in solitary confinement for four weeks.

Being blamed for the assault was incredibly hurtful and I went into a dark place. I started to believe it really was my fault — that I allowed myself to be in a position to be raped. I started self-harming, and tried to kill myself twice.

After the incident, I got moved to a new prison. I would be put in a cell with a new person to deal with. I was worried. 

Thankfully, he treated me nicely from the beginning. He already knew I was gay. He told me he was straight, but didn’t care about my sexual orientation. He just wanted a good person to live with. 

We talked a lot over the next few months. I started feeling safe that he wouldn’t see me as weak if I opened up to him. I finally let it all out. I told him everything — not just about the assault, but everything I had been keeping bottled up. He told me he would never let anyone hurt me as long as we were together. He held me and let me cry out all my pain. It no longer held power over me. 

My cellie said he had been lonely and unhappy too. He wanted a girl in his life and was hoping I would fulfill that role. From that day we became close. He started calling me “Sweetie” and “Sugar.” It was my first relationship in a female role. I was surprised how easy it felt. As my confidence increased, I only wanted to be in relationships as a female. 

I explored transitioning at the time, but I realized there was no protection for transgender women in a men’s prison. I would be at even higher risk of physical and sexual violence from other incarcerated men, and corrections staff. So I stayed as safe as I could and passed the time. 

Protection for incarcerated trans people

In 2020 — 30 years after I first entered prison — California passed Senate Bill 132, or the Transgender Respect, Agency and Dignity Act. The Prison Rape Elimination Act was already federal law, since 2003. Better known as PREA, the law aimed to prevent sexual assaults against incarcerated individuals. But not all state policies were living up to its standards, particularly for trans people. The new law was designed to specifically protect transgender, gender-nonconforming and intersex people incarcerated in California. Part of that protection involves ensuring individuals can self-identify their gender and preferred pronouns at intake. The law also mandates transgender, nonbinary and intersex people receive gendered housing placements based on the individual’s preference. 

The law went into effect Jan. 1, 2021, but I wanted to see how it would play out before making any changes. I didn’t know if the corrections staff would bother to follow it. 

For a year, I waited and watched, and talked with other transgender people in my facility. From what I could see, corrections officers now had to protect transgender women or risk getting in trouble. Finally, I felt ready to transition. 

There were a lot of steps to even start the process. I first completed a new identity form with my gender as female. Then I visited the medical office for a physical checkup, followed by a psychologist for an evaluation and diagnosis to confirm my gender dysphoria. The final step was visiting the doctor who would order the hormones to support my physical transition. Six months later, I had my first hormone injection. I haven’t missed a weekly injection since. 

I know this is the right decision for me. For the past 15 years, I have played a female role in all of my relationships. I know I am ready to be a woman. Transitioning was the hardest decision I have ever made. But now I will be able to live as the woman who has always been inside me.