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Arrested Development (Pandora)
I arrived at Ashford remand centre, which was an old Victorian jail near Heathrow airport around 7 pm. I went through reception with the others and was given a quick medical. I was then given a sheet, blanket, plastic washbowl and a large jug with a handle (for slopping out). Soon I was escorted up stairs to a cell on a wing, the door was unlocked and I walked in. As soon as the door slammed behind me and the key rattled in the lock any bravado I'd shown disappeared. Tears streamed down my face and I cried like I had never done before, I could hear moaning and it took me a few minutes to realise it was coming from me, I couldn't lie in the bed for some reason so I curled up in a ball on the floor and wept for hours. At some point the lights went out and I began to hear other kids crying, sobbing as hard as me while some screamed in terror at what I couldn't guess. This seemed to go on all night or until I eventually cried myself to sleep.
I was on remand for 6 weeks in this place locked up for 23 hours a day, the only time I was allowed out of the cell was for exercise (walking with 100's of boys in the yard) or sometimes for meals. To be honest I didn't want to leave the safety of the cell, as the yard and the dining hall were dangerous places where fights often broke out. To use the toilet you had approx 10 minutes first thing in the morning during slop out when 40 odd boys on the wing shared 3 cubicles (all without doors) in this short space of time. The slop out sinks were always blocked so the floor was covered in a lake of urine and shit which you had to wade through; if you did manage to get a cubicle there was never any loo role (the screws nicked it for their own homes).
I never made any friends or spoke to anyone all the time I was there, I felt apart from it all, I realised I didn't understand the male attitudes or reactions to being in this place that most of the others shared. Strangely no one really bothered me, I was ignored as if they sensed I was different, I wasn't accepted I wasn't rejected, I was invisible.
One day the boy in the opposite cell to me died, his body was taken away in the morning and everyone was locked away while they removed him. I never found out why he died though I did hear others say it was heart failure brought on by fright that would not have surprised me. A lot of the inmates were mentally ill, it was obvious looking at them and at night you heard them screaming like caged animals. Remember everyone in this place was deemed innocent, they hadn't been convicted of anything and most of them were young teenagers. In the short time I was there I saw many of them turning into hardened thugs and god help society when they were released. The experience was shocking and words can't describe the hell of being there. The worst aspect of it all looking back now was the behaviour of the screws (prison officers) who took great delight in taunting and bullying what were after all children, these men were sick and I have no idea how they can sleep at night. They were the worst kind of ignorant yobbish child abusers I have ever came across, and they were well paid for it by your taxes.
During this time Prince Charles and Diana were preparing for their showpiece wedding a few miles down the road from us. Once a week when I was taken back to court for a bail application I would see all the decorations going up and the painters at work through the tiny window of the prisoner transport vehicles. It was surreal watching it all as we drove through the centre of London, being there but also being a million miles apart from it all. When they did get married I never knew until 3 days later when I managed to get hold of a newspaper. One thing I always remember reading was a story saying how everyone in Britain watched the ceremony 'even all the prisoners in HM prisons were allowed to watch it on their TV sets' yeah right!! (smile)
Then one day at court the judge completely out of the blue agreed to my bail subject to a £2000 surety, which my dad put up for me. Within a few hours I was out and on a bus back to Scotland. I was numb, if they (the authorities) had let said to me then that was a taste of prison keep out of trouble from now on! I would never have gotten into any more trouble ever again. Unfortunately I was only being given a temporary reprieve, I was due back at The Old Bailey the following year for trial.
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For the next 10 months I lived in dread of having to return and face the trial, but what was worse was I knew I was going to go back to prison after it. It was just a question of for how long, 3 or 6 years seemed to be what most people inc. my lawyer thought. I hardly left my parents house for the next 10 months, I clung on to them like a little kid I refused to find a job or even to sign on for benefits I just wanted to hide away from it all. Both my parents were working and by this time my sister had left home so I had plenty of time on my own so I was able to 'dress' a lot of the time mostly in my sisters old clothes. This was the first time I had really been able to prolong my 'dressing' I could do it every day and when my parents went on holiday I was able to dress as female (me) for two weeks without a break.
Now, this is the subject that interests the pshrinks the most; how did I feel when dressed? Well, I'll be honest at first it felt exciting. I would try on all sorts of different outfits and stare at myself in the mirror from this angle and that, different poses trying to look natural. I was thin anyway and I've always had girlie sized bottom so the clothes did hang on me well except for my lack of breasts. I padded a bra with old tights and that was better, after a while I got so used to these 'bumps' in front of me and I hardly noticed them. It felt right ... almost, there was always something missing though, I knew I looked ok but under the clothes and the padding I always knew there was a male body and I didn't want it. I can't say I despised it like some TS say but it was wrong I stared at my naked reflection for hours trying to see where the girl started and the boy ended, It was weird looking at my body as if it was someone else, I liked the lean muscular shape of 'him' but of course it wasn't me. So then I disliked me for having this body but quite fancied him (told you it was weird) I also associated all the things that were wrong with my life with 'him' and all the best parts were 'her' (me) This is not looking at myself as a split personality it's something which is very difficult to explain but if you are TS reading this you probably have an idea of what I mean.
The main thing to come from all this was it reconfirmed for me (as if I needed it) that I was indeed female but now my life was in suspension. I was probably going to prison soon and that was no place for me. It would have to be 'him' that went and I'd hide till he was released. This all must sound crazy now but it was the only way I could rationalise what the future held for me. I suppose I was still traumatised from the six weeks I'd spent on remand, I had nightmares about it often (and still do to this day occasionally) In the meantime I dressed as often as I could, told no one about the real me and even ventured out dressed at times usually at night. During this period I still plucked my eyebrows and wore my hair long and even when I was dressed as 'him' it was a pretty androgynous him but no one ever said anything to me about it though they must have noticed.
Soon the time of the trial approached, I got more and more afraid, I couldn't sleep but I had to face it and get through this part of my life, I would have to hide myself till I was released whenever that would be. One day it was time, my dad and I left for London.
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