Last week I talked about hate crimes legislation (HCL) and its buttressing effect on the criminal justice system. To continue, this column will highlight issues with the prison industrial complex (PIC) because the conversations on penalty enhancement due to HCL and the hyperincarceration of marginalized people, among others, all intersect.
First, the national grassroots organization Critical Resistance, which seeks to abolish the prison system, uses PIC "to describe the overlapping interests of government and industry that use surveillance, policing and imprisonment as solutions to what are, in actuality, economic, social and political ‘problems.'" To further contextualize, let's not forget that the United States has not only the highest numbers of inmates but also the highest rate of incarceration in the world. As a side note, we also love coloring in the lines of our prisons that we keep expanding: There are more black people in prison now than were enslaved in 1850, according to Michelle Alexander, an associate professor of law at Moritz College.
Although various social categories (e.g. race, class) intersect to shape the lives of every individual and their experiences with the criminal system, this column will focus on intersectionality only in relation to queer people. The unjust criminal system manifests itself in anti-queer discrimination, violence and incarceration in our society informed by a climate of homophobia and transphobia, the very factors that pipeline queers into prison while also facilitating our arrival there.
Queer youth often find themselves disproportionately out on the streets due to their sexuality and/or their gender identity and expression; 20 to 40 percent of homeless youth identify as LGBT though they make up only 5 to 10 percent of the youth population. Living on the streets, they become prime pickings for our criminal system, which profiles and harasses deviant individuals. They are subject to increased police harassment and often face charges for crimes of survival (e.g. prostitution, robbery, drugs, etc.). Even when the state intervenes and places them in foster care, the results are not promising: A study found that 78 percent reported being removed or running away due to a hostile environment, 100 percent reported verbal harassment, and 70 percent reported being victims of physical violence.
And trans people, whether young or old, deal with even more trouble. Police criminalize and arrest them for using their preferred bathroom, for a lack of proper identification, and for soliciting money for sex, regardless of the veracity of such an assumption. If we throw homelessness, the resultant poverty and higher exposure to police harassment and scrutiny into the mix, we may perhaps understand that the criminal justice system results in much more violence and incarceration of queer bodies than the average Joe.
Before we talk about what happens in prisons, let's also be aware that prosecutors use the "gay panic" defense in order to acquit or lessen sentences for those charged with hate crimes against queer people and also employ homophobic reasoning to urge a jury to confer the death penalty to LGBT defendants.
Lastly, once in prison, queer people face verbal, physical and sexual abuse from other inmates, prison staff and guards. Additionally, the system classifies trans people who have yet to undergo genital surgery by their birth sex, which results in higher risk of violence for male-to-female transsexuals. To "protect" these individuals, prisons isolate them in what is called "administrative segregation," which "also results in exclusion from recreation, educational and occupational opportunities, and associational rights." Some prisons may also deny them hormones or other trans-specific forms of health care.
In sum, the flawed system royally screws us over, and we cannot be a party to efforts that bolster it. We need to re-examine our ideas of justice, rehabilitation and human rights.
