We pulled into the back gate, and it happened the moment we stepped off the bus.
SIR YES SIR! SIR NO SIR! MA’AM YES MA’AM! MA’AM NO MA’AM!
We were completely at the mercy of the guards and it was clear that if we said or did anything wrong there would be trouble. I’ve never been in the military so it was a total shock.
Then came the most humiliating 3 hours of my life. We had to stand on these red lines and got told: C’mon make it happen now! Get naked! Right then and there out in the open. Looking around I saw the other guys shucking off their clothes so I reluctantly did the same, throwing everything into a cardboard box in front of us. Stepping out of my briefs exposed to all the officers and other inmates was easily the most embarrassed I’ve ever felt in my life.
We then had to step forward to the next red line as other guys came in to strip off behind. An inmate worker gave us these bottles of delousing liquid which we had to rub in our hair, under our arms, on our balls and anywhere we had hair. It was awkward as hell but we’re all covering ourselves in this stuff that stinks and feels gross.
Meanwhile we’re waiting around for ages between every part of the process in our birthday suits and getting shouted at as if we’re naughty kids in detention.
Then we had to step forward again and our row got strip searched to make sure we weren’t bringing anything in but our naked behinds.
Arms up! Open your mouth! Lift your tongue! Pull out your cheeks! Lift your nuts! Separate your dick and your nuts! Turn around! Raise your left foot, wiggle your toes! Right foot, wiggle those toes! Now squat and give me three big coughs! Stand back up and face me!
Then we had to hit the showers and wash all that gunk off. Standing butt naked in line waiting for a spot to free up, I couldn’t help but think about what my life had become, getting treated to this circus.
After washing we got given a towel to dry off with and net bag with our gear. Dressing on these benches, I realized the jumpsuit they gave me was probably 5X, which felt like some kind of joke. But seeing DEPT. OF CORRECTIONS on the back in big black letters was anything but funny.
Then we had to get our heads and faces shaved right down to the skin, removing what little bit of our identities we had left — replaced by a DOC number that would be with us for life.
After all 60 of us were done getting stripped, slathered, searched, shorn and suited, it was time to have the rules shouted at us, punctuated by Is that understood? many times over.
I wasn’t actually sure if I did — it was all such a blur. Though I responded alongside my new housemates with the words that I would be saying thousands of times throughout my incarceration in the Georgia Department of Corrections:
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
jbbartram-illu
