Justice For Demi
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Last Week I Was Sent to the Emergency Room

Around Thursday July 28, 2022 I began feel hopeless, and as if I was being ignored. I had already met with the central offices staff, who basically told me that I needed to prove to them that I was transgender. I showed my medical records showing that I have been on hormones for years and awaiting gender affirming surgery (which they are delaying).

The chair of the PREA Accommodation Committee (PAC) went onto to tell me “there are somethings that we can biologically not change.” She was suggesting that regardless I of my transition without surgery I am a man. I ignored her comments. But the truth is everything she said hurt, and was hard not to cry in the meeting it was hard to know that the same people who I once admired were now responsible for placing me in harms way.

I started cutting again, and with a razor I begin making a incision to remove my testicle. In my head, I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted out of this. THEY DON’T KNOW the hell that I am going through. Instead, if you have a penis, you deserve to be in a male prison. That is all central offices cares about. I have been diagnosed with gender dyphoria, and it makes me 5 times more likely to die by suicide. I hide these thoughts. I have often not told anyone how I truly feel, and how sometimes, I would rather not be here.

Truthfully the one family that I had is at Edna Mahan Correctional Facility. It was a group of friends who helped me get through this pain, from being stuck in a body that I hate. I went through many depressive nights, and often wanted to be loved. I simply never knew that it could have such devastating consequences. I blame myself, for the hatred that is now geared to my community, and those who I care about.

WHEN I BEGAN to bleed, I did not even think about dying. I just thought about finally having relief from the pain that I felt. Being here in a male prison, amplifies the harm that I once felt, from being called cock sucker to being called faggot to being touched. I hate it all. Men come writing me letters asking for sexual things. I fucking hate it. Yes, I do often think about giving up. I do think about not fighting this fight. Yet, this fight is the only reason why I am alive. It’s the only thing that at times gives me the strength to push forward.

I keep being told that its going to get better, but the truth is I know its not going to get better. I know NJDOC’s track record with protecting the rights of trans inmates. I know that I will have suffered so much pain, that if I am not dead than just maybe I may get justice. They ask me why, but the truth is when you live this life, its not like you make choices. You instead go through shit, and you find your self in some dark places.

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