Coming out as my authentic self while in a violent maximum security prison for men was my only option. Patricia could not survive another month, hidden like some embarrassing freak of nature with thoughts of suicide ever present.
I had sex with four guys before the yard closed two hours later. Patricia was determined to prove she was sexy and desirable. I didn’t think about the dangers to my health or anyone else’s. All I cared about was how sex affirmed my womanhood and enabled me to stay high—something I found myself still enjoying. I spent years on my back or on my knees before I came to realize that my body was all any of my partners cared about.
What few people, if any, knew was that Patricia was spiraling deeper and deeper, back into a state of depression that had already caused her to try several times to take her own life. But for my incarcerated community, I kept a strong outer appearance and kept putting one foot in front of another. My first suicide attempt at age 13 had failed, as did the several others throughout my life.
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