The plantations here in the unified states of North America exist for the sole purpose of keeping the rich several steps ahead of the poor. These are brutal places, where women and men often fall into themselves, usually looking for the same false sense of security that snatches our kids towards gang life. The colors are bland, the tastes are awful, and the stink is always present. We hear things that we shouldn't, and all emotions are felt to the extreme, there is no medium range. Of all the emotions to touch base with, love has to be the most difficult. The majority never will fully understand it and only few will ever feel a portion of it. The essence of before, now, and later, has given me the awareness to know love, give love and receive love. From plantation to plantation my spirit has collided with others and bonded, here are letters to one of them.
What is written is personal while at the same time informative so I do not mind sharing this part of myself with the reader. For many it will be a first time trip into the life of a person in bondage. For many it will be just as ordinary as a glass of drinking water. Either way I ask that when read, keep in mind that it is only a letter from one human being to the next. Anyone offended by anything herein should know that that was not my intent. I'm giving the reader what I give my loved ones, which is my truth.
Women and men on these plantations who happen to get a copy of this letter may ask why I did not go further when it comes to certain subject matters. Things like how absurd it is for female prison guards to promote and encourage gay life in the prisons. So much so that they bring in lipstick, make-up, perms and panties to these displaced men. A female who is comfortable with watching her natural partner represent himself as she would is truly off balance, I do agree. Or the fact that I did not touch on how ruthless the Caribbean and African pigs are, being that most if not all of them enjoy our pain way more than any 'Klan'� pig could. Not to mention the treatment of medical staff who are always the worst, no one at the top of his or her class of who could perform well in the private sector would work in a prison.
Remember this is a letter from me to one of my people, so often we speak on those issues that this information is old to us. It by no way implies that I have forgotten. As you will see, this kid is very sharp. I did not forget how important radio DJ's were and still are to our culture. From the Latin Rascals to Red Alert and Mr. Magic, to the Awesome Two, Chuck Chill-out and D.J. Ali from New Jersey way down the dial before Stretch and Bob was down there. I would never down play how important G-Rap was and is to our culture, always the gangster, always heavy on the neck and wrist and always spittin' fire. As far as the West Coast spittin''�I'm not from there and know little about the true foundation of the culture on that end, but I was up on it before a lot of dudes. I played Ice-T, Easy and 'Face when a lot of dudes didn't know where Cali and Texas were. Record for record, lyric for lyric, beat for beat, I can take it back to '79, and my square is sharp all are welcome to test it.
All in all get what you can get from your journey, it should be a lot. My love extends out to reach many, and as far as the reader knows this may be specifically for you. I have a lot of loved ones on these plantations, a lot of packages to send out, a lot of money orders as well. So my Queens and Supermen don't be stingy and read the next person's copy, get your own and love yourself!!
Bliz








































T.H.U.G. Love Superman,
How you?!
I'm good. Yeah, I know it's been a while since I last wrote, but you know it's never because you're not on my mind or from a lack of love. They on some new shit entirely! As always they fail to realize that pressure creates diamonds. True hardrocks, so from one rock to another'�Bling-bling. The last kite I received from you, you were doing your thing in that spot. It's sweet right. Yeah I know, don't mess it up by leaking one of those dudes and getting sent to 'the port'�. Besides you're still waiting for the decision from the appellate court.
I just took 6 1/2'13. I know, I know. But these people were trying to go back to trial. That I was not doing, but I was willing to lay up a few more months until they came down another year or so. Six months at least, but you know I was not alone in this, the co-defendant factor kicked in. Granted the 6 1/2 is a lot less than the 25 we had and we are the only two out of 48 dudes in the bloc to come down on an appeal, I was willing to hold out until they stated ready for trial. Shit, we was down there for nineteen months already, I was back into everything. However I also know when I won, and I beat these faggots. They had me and let me go. All caught up in the court system with really no way out other than digging a hole, and because of the double-talk of their laws I get to live again.
I know they know who I am, what I do, what I belong to. This is why the D.A. went to the court of appeals and pressed so hard. They know who will get on the set and remain progressive. They know who will and who won't be back. You dig me? The entire law library won't save you once the fix sets in. We don't have anytime to bullshit and get only one shot at getting out before we get messed around and that's at that grand jury hearing. This is why the legal aids always tell you not to go, because they know that once you don't get indicted the case is a wrap. I tell my peoples that on the regular. From the very first time you see a judge state on record that you want to go to the grand jury.
Damn that lawyer they gave you. Don't listen to him and don't tell him anything other than you wanting to testify before the grand jury. Why give him any information? Remember, the more we talk the more they know. We have the right to remain silent, so use the science with that. When they arrest us they claim to have a case, they don't have anything! Dudes tell on themselves by speaking to lawyers, paid or otherwise they are all going to tell the D.A. something he does not know. Then they throw at us that stuff about anything you say in the grand jury you must stick to'�bullshit! This is what goes on.
The police make statements, rather testify to the grand jury one way and then testify at pre-trial hearings another way, but previous to both of these they have police reports stating some other story. Now that's three different conclusions to one crime, at trial they say some other stuff, and when our lawyers ask, 'Wasn't your grand jury testimony this'�'� they say, 'I don't recall'�. Well that's just how we can do it. 'Yeah I testified to this'�what? When was that? No, I don't recall that.'� Why can't we do that? Because a lot of us don't take that opportunity to go tell our story before the fix sets in. They get grimey and we must too, especially in this day and time. We are getting slayed in the courts. Most arrest are not worth a damn. We tell on ourselves by speaking on prison phones, playing the give-a-little information game with the legal aides and if you have paid legal counsel with the investigators. Everyone is part of the fix so you cannot trust anyone; once we get indicted that's a wrap.
It's the year 2000, they figure we don't want to be in the town so they're serving dudes with quarters and better if we blow trial. Yeah, if we want to be slaves they are going to get their labor in mass. Broads are on the set in numbers of 8 to 1 and we still fall for the same ole shit that we fell into in the 50's and 60's. Yeah we must like it. We know the rules and seen how they stepped up the price. Kid when we was 15, we were getting R.O.R's for robberies and had so many cases that I was going to court everyday for 3 months. If it wasn't court for me we were going for somebody in the crew. From Family Court to Supreme, from Brooklyn to Manhattan, but after awhile the cases would get dropped. Not now, these little dudes going down for their first felony'�bail $50,000 and a cop-out offer of 10 years flat. Appeals getting affirmed, yeah I know I won. I'm out of this plantation on to the next.
Plus the way I was being treated was crazy. I've been 'Red I.D.'� since 1995 when they started the punishment. Do you know that when we come down for court they give us that thing right back?! It should've been dead being that we've been up state for sometime, but when they first gave it to us they claimed we were 'red'� for five years but now it's ours forever. Only ones who can take you off is security, like a Dep or warden. I don't know if you all had that in Westchester County, but it's for known cutters or weapon carriers. The thing is that we can be in the building roaming free without a hassle where we caught the charge'�but going to court the bullshit starts.
First we get up at 4:00 a.m. to take a shower, if you a clean dude. Don't laugh. You know how some of us are. In the street they larger than Puffy, in here they Mechanic Joe'� we then eat and hit the bullpen about 5:45 a.m. and wait around the worst dudes in the building until about 7:30 a.m. for the court bus. Manhattan has the worst pigs on transportation, real ass-heads, but I love them because they never attempt to stop my breath so when it's my turn I get to show them how to do it for real. They always have some fly stuff to say and cuff you up real tight.
Anyway, I get cuffed and shackled last. Isn't it funny how compliant we've become, how easy it is for them to do their job? Always remember'we participate in our captivity. First my hands go inside these nylon and cloth cylinder tubes they call mittens. These things are hot as hell after a few hours so your hands swell up and the mittens stink because they don't wash the things. They have little loops so the handcuff can close around the top and secure your wrist. They place our hands in the mitten and cuff us behind our backs, and then a box is put on over the middle of the cuffs to secure it. That box takes away any slack and blocks use of the cuff keys. A chain is run through the box around the waist and pulled tight, how tight depends on the pig or if you are wearing pants with loops for a belt. The secret is to wear sweats so the chain slides a little. After being shackled behind your back they put on leg irons, now you're ready to travel. This is how you stay until you get back to the building you're in, and if you're going to Manhattan court, that means 8:30p.m. -10:00 p.m. easy. Manhattan always waits until everyone is finished (all red ID's) before they move unless you get lucky and catch a ride with the general population bus, then you good. If not, you wait for the red ID bus, which is driven by Batman and Robin. For pigs they are more than bearable, but they drive like a madman which is a terrible feeling for someone who is in a locked caged with no way to free their self should the bus crash. Even if they wanted to there is no way they could save us, each one of us is locked in our own individual cage with all that stuff on us.
The only time you get to come out of that pretty mess is when you have to use the bathroom or to eat. For that you get to be placed in another cell alone for a few minutes to do what you have to do and get a stretch. I rarely came out of it, it made no sense. I would just focus on other things and use my breathing techniques to calm any discomfort. Wouldn't eat, Kid I've been coming through the system since '86 and never ate those foul-ass sandwiches. The meat always looked orange, what kind of meat is orange Yo?! So every court date I would fast until I got back to the island. The only thing that was proper about it is that there are never more than seven dudes in the bullpen with you so there is very little if any smoke in there, and most dudes who are red ID are thorough, so they are clean dudes. Although lately, they have been giving anybody and everybody a red ID these days'�old poppy's, dudes from up north who wasn't red when they went up but caught bing days for something way back in the years as well as dudes that touched something years ago but hasn't been to jail since. Administration will back track and give them one. CMC's who are supposed to be very high classification on the island don't get treated like that, they are separated like we are only they still get cuffed in front with no shackles. I'm telling you Kid it is crazy'�jailing has changed so much.
I started coming through late; my first bid was at 21 or 22, when I came back to the states after a tour in the Army for 2 years. I consider that my first bid really, it's no different from this but that's another story. In '86 when we was coming through the system, it was seven days moving from precinct to precinct before seeing a judge. Robbing dudes before seeing a judge, not eating for those seven days, only drinking that foul-ass coffee, the people were different. The attitudes were more rebellious. We were on some get money trip at all cost so coming through the system you saw a different level of dude. Yeah we saw dudes who were homeless or drunks maybe a few crackheads, but it wasn't like this. I mean we had on 'Lo Gooses', 'Gerry G's' and even 'Tommy' started his winter jackets then. 'Dunks' were on uptown dudes' feet and 'New Balance', 'Filas' and 'Head' were on ours. Three finger gold rings, a cable (gold rope) or two on the neck, and of course a fresh hair-cut. Now a day out of 50 people arrested, two may come through with enough change to make a phone call.
Dudes are not taking money and are cowards so the jail atmosphere is lame. New dudes don't understand the rules because they have not been taught. Old-timers are defeated and just say, 'Damn it'�. You know I keep an upbeat attitude about this shit. For one, because I know why I'm here. I'll never stress out. I come out of the cell with my game face on, always unapproachable but never distant, always intense with back to the wall but relaxed. It's very important to me that I never stain my 'prison card'� it is a measure of how you did the time as well as your character. Shit after doing a substantial amount of time, that's all we have.
Since the beginning of this one I've seen the defeated attitude of most of the old-timers. They wander around spaced out taking everyone's bullshit from the pigs down to the adolescents or they're running around chasing that dope, doing everything and anything for it. Whatever peoples they may have in the street who are compassionate enough to still take care of their old-ass get suckered into paying for the habit. Then we have the ones who stay running to sick call to get medicated or to let these people pump 'em full of experimental drugs. There is really no way a young dude can look to one of these dudes for any answers; this is why they lash out at them with violence. If they do happen to run into an old-timer who can catch their ear the first thing he spits at them is, 'Shit, I was in the Attica riot'�I was a Black Panther'�I was with such and such'�'� Man if I was any of those things and got caught back up in this prison-shit I wouldn't say a damn thing! How does one brag about falling off?!
That's the same as the new dudes coming through talking about how they was 'doing it'� in the town. Had all the broads, two whips, went to all the clubs, backstage with the 'Wu', and killed more people than 'Billy the Kid'�. Yet they stuck on the island with $2,500 bail. Don't know any rules of the penal but been in Attica, Auburn, Clinton and Sing-Sing. They are funny. I have to sit back, way back and analyze these dudes. We used to split these types open for nothing, just for recreation but now they get to live. Very disrespectful, loud, and everything they do we see coming. I don't know who raised this group, my old-timers taught me as well as they could. Told me I can function without opening my mouth, but close my eyes and ears and I'm dead. You dig me?! I know the crack game messed a lot of stuff up, but damn! It also bugs me out how these same dudes stress about the street so quick. We all know that to worry about anything outside of these walls is a no-no. Control is very limited; even if we have a few people that are thorough with us time runs differently out there. Two days for them is a week for us, and a week for them feels like a month to us. We are always supposed to live with less; this is a spot for soldiers not for the weak at all. I know my strength comes from being a gunman, knowing that I may stick something for a bonus but better make it last. I live on needs not wants, so my bid is easy for me as well as my people. Kid the state provides shelter, three garbage-ass meals and a fresh pair of boots every six months or so. I used to lay under cars for two days before I hit a balla, or sit on a job for two weeks before we hit, so I know I can go without some 'Captain Crunch' when things gets tight for my peoples. Dudes have to remember that if you were the dough getter out there, how can you expect your people to pick up that major slack you left?
Then you got those dudes with habits, pressing broads to come and set them out. Now mind you, if a dude is a hustler and this is how he eats and he is sending loot back to the broad to stay on top then damn it, do him! These lames though are straight junkies. Not giving a damn about who it is they want to bring the product in. I see wives, sisters, cousins, and mothers. What kind of clown has his Moms come with her ass full of loonies?! Especially since we all know how the system is charging people for trying it, straight felonies Yo. Now remember this is the same dude who was 'the man'� in the town but he has no chickenhead to come set him out. No morals, no respect for the game, they don't even know the game'�just caught up, so we have to deal with them. The only reason I don't just spaz out and cut these fools is because I would have to cut the whole lot of them, I'm on my way out to the streets kid, don't need to see them now, I'll take care of them on the set. I do my best to teach them, to learn from them, we all need help with this garbage we are living in but I will not be sucked into the trash having it overcome me; I'll cut my way through to the top. Dig me, whatever we leave behind these walls we will have to deal with on the set. Everyone gets a shot to go home, we all going to touchtown again, so I'm not judging these dudes or glorifying us, it's just that there needs to be a whole lot of correcting going on and the responsibility is ours. The new dudes or old ones, who are not jailing right, that sit in front of us with the bullshit, must be checked even though they are giving out new charges for the smallest act. We are a reflection of what's living around us. If we let silliness go down we are no better than them, so I do get it right at times.
One of my workout partners just turned 'Blood' on me. It's 2000 and now he wants to join the nonsense. Don't get me wrong, I was feeling the move when they first popped off, but now its garbage. Dudes with that gang mentality are not the same as the dudes who are holding it down alone. Most of these dudes are cowards who couldn't last two days without his or her crew. Then there are the few who are just too strong for the gang. They try to maintain the high standards that the group once had and find themselves caught up. No matter if they're Kings, Bloods, Netas, Crips, Gods and Earths. The reality of being captured had to weigh heavy on them. I can't see any other reason to mess with a collective that has no set structure other than to just wild-out. I mean I know some thorough dudes that get busy both in jail and on the streets who become gang affiliated. Maybe it's because they get access to a group of buck wild adolescents or to all the drugs, but it surely isn't to get out of jail. Once the oppressors saw the potential of this raw unorganized violence and the togetherness of the gang, they went right at them by way of infiltration using the weaker dudes I spoke about, new charges, and luck. There was a time when you had to 'put in work'� to claim that you were part of any of these gangs, so the pigs sent in agents to do just that. They figured that a guy in jail is a scumbag anyway so if they had to cut him to join the gang it was nothing, really just free rec for them. Kid, these agents (straight police) were wearing wires, getting plugged to who's who on the street, and building solid cases. Dudes thought that their man was telling on them, the thing was that the dude was never their man from the start; he was sent in to bang them. The DA's start hitting them with R.I.C.O. charges and that C.C.E. shit, putting the extra time on the back while upgrading their sentencing guidelines. It became especially easy once these agents didn't have to 'put in work'�; all they had to do was take an oath or be the biggest drug smuggler in the jail.
It's hard for me to watch what is going on with them because I have so much love for the potential of these groups of poor men like me. The sheer terror that they hand out to those who oppose them, sometimes to the proper enemy directly, most times to their peers. The gangs whether they know it or not are the perfect counter-terrorists, their violence is complete and they are well seasoned, seasoned enough to be our army. The army of the poor! But the lack of structure, true leadership, and the fear of freedom hold these dudes back. Not to mention the separation that is caused by them all claiming separate flags. None of which they truly belong to. Ask the average 'Latin King' who is Lolita Lebron, who are the F.A.L.N. or would they, leave today to go and fight for the Isle of Vieques? And these same guys that run with that 'P.R. Power'� stuff would look at you like you crazy. Most wouldn't know what you're talking about, but they will surely cut you for a dopefiend who they consider a 'Manito'�. Same with these 'Bloods'�, who claim to love everything black, yet have not read one of Huey's books. They say that they read my savior's book, my bible, 'Blood in My Eye'�, but don't recall George saying all poor persons must stand together in this war. They say they are 'Blood'� but they will beat a black man to death because he wants to make a phone call to his family. Call each other 'Dahmu's'�, Swahili for blood, but won't take the time to learn the tongue in its entire text. This is the problem with gang mentality, separation from us as a whole while belonging to a whole of a few.
I tell you Superman; it's bad but at the same time it's all going to come together real soon. And these are not the only gangs. You have the Democrats, the Republicans, Liberals, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Nationalists, FBI, CIA, DEA, NYPD, and The Corrections Department; only these gangs don't get penalized for their actions. No, no new charges for them. That whole new charge thing is bullshit also; I'll kick it to you about that later. I have so much to talk to you about; we have to write each other more because this avoids us having to play catch up every letter. Especially the way they play with our mail, you know sending it back to people or throwing it away or holding on to it. This is why one should never spaz out on anyone about packages or writing to him in prison; the attitude of people who work in these places is sickening, both pigs and civilians. If they did not know what it was about before they started, once they found out they should have quit. They feel like no one is supposed to love us, and we not suppose to get visits, mail, and food from those who care about us. Some came in feeling like that, you can always tell those types but most are trained to be this way.
When you left here on your way to Attica they hired a civilian to work in the library with me'�a southern woman, big coffee colored, sweet as pie. Sharp too, was high up in the ranks of that off-shoot of the nation of Islam that was run by the dude Silis Muhammad. She allowed me to read a packet that the Department of Corrections (NYS) gives to incoming workers. Thing said, and I quote, 'Do not touch, hug, kiss or engage in intimate conversation with inmates. These are human actions which you are to refrain from use.'� So you see why most of these white women, poor like us, refuse to look you in the face in passing. We are subhuman! Black women, a step away from welfare and were raised in our hoods, wards, projects and act as if you were as foreign to them as a man from Greece. I observed some of this attitude in full on this last trip down to Rikers Island. Though the dynamics are a little different, the end result is always the same.
I don't know if it's the same in Valhalla but the Island is 95% Black when it comes to staff. Most, but not all, were poor. That job is what saved them from being on the other side of the judge's hammer with us. We were raised with these people, went to school with them, some are family members, some are ex-girlfriends. Shit, you may see an enemy or two, someone you bullied coming up. All of them know someone in our position. The reasons why they took the job is beyond me, I mean I can give you a thousand excuses, if I wanted to turn this letter into a thesis on the oppressor being internalized by the oppressed, but that's the next letter. I could have been starving in the streets, butt-ass naked with one boot on in the winter, sleeping outside under the 3 train to New Lots Avenue'� if you offered a million dollar signing bonus I would not take that job. There has to be a mental glitch for a person to even think about taking the test. Who wants to be around a bunch of criminals? Locked in with angry men who have been taken away from family, friends, and their lives? Drug addicts, mentally unstable and other dangerous people, people who speak swiftly with violence. To be locked up weaponless'� these people must have an inner desire for pain.
I see them at times, joking and laughing and eating with each other. Smiling and going on with their selves as if life is dandy, without any shade from us, only to stop if by chance they feel our death stare. Do they really think that we don't want to smile too, don't they think we want to laugh with our moms? I do laugh at times, because it is funny how they think that everyone is the same that everyone forgets. These brown faces in uniforms, these people, will be dealt with. They talk of doing twenty years and retiring like it is a given that they are going to make it. Even a child could see that those days are coming to an end.
What I do find funny is how they say prison preserves us, keeps us young. Isn't it ironic that the same prison ages the hell out of these CO's, especially the women? The first thing to go is their facial features, a pig always has a certain look in the eyes, and it's very ugly. I believe it comes from guilt, ignorance, and then stubbornness. I am not one to argue with the rules of nature, you know that very well, and it is a woman's nature to survive at all costs. To feed her young, to keep them safe from harm, using what she has to use. Being that we as poor men have no system of our own to educate her young, to feed her young or to employ her, what else can she do? Do I blame her for working for the rich, hell no! I'm sure if our thing was up to par she would leave them and their retirement plans, their cubicle office spaces, their corporate pumps that swell her feet and chairs that flatten her ass. Naw, we got to step up and take blame for that. But I can blame her for becoming pork. There is never an excuse for walking in the pig strut.
Remember we kicked it a while ago about the attitudes of these broads in uniform, we came up with a lot of stuff on why there's so much hate towards us, so much confusion in dealing with us. For one, I know, is that they have a very different outlook on their position. They forget something that is told to them during their training, their brainwashing. That something is, 'You are no longer a woman, and you are a soldier!'� That's deep right? That little statement is something they choose to forget, but thorough dudes like us do not. I know we know that the person in that uniform is a soldier, a bully, and a peacekeeper for the rich who oppress all. You dig me? She doesn't realize it but we know it. We know that she holds our death on her hip, that little red button or string that she can pull for assistance has a far reach. Once she taps it, her peers come running with sticks and shields. We get through them and more come with body armor, gas and electricity. We get through them and here come the National Guard. So you see she may not know the power because 'it's just a job'�, but it's our duty to know and treat her as such. It should never be smiles or kind words that she expects, because of, if nothing else her gender. She gets blank stares, the stare of a rapist or pimp, or giggles as she passes because of how stupid she looks in those big-ass boots.
From the door she must question her whole existence. Day one she sees nothing but men. Black men, Latin men, White men, most well built, some soft looking and clean cut, a lot ruff and ungroomed. Many voices, much different slang and languages, but all of them share one thing'� the stink of lust. No female can ignore that, and all are affected to some degree by it. Once she takes her post (sitting or standing) and has time to watch us her fantasy starts. Who are we, where do we come from? 'What did he do to get here? Why didn't he speak to me? Oh, he looks like such and such. Why are they around that one like that? Were they laughing at me? I saw him looking at my titties. That one is ugly. Could this booth hold two people? My panties are wet. He should not be in here; we could have a good relationship.'� This goes on and on in her head, so much so that from the first time she finds one of us really cute, she has already found a closed off spot to put her ass on the gate.
There are those who are raw and don't care who knows that they feel this way, and will sex us regardless. No hiding. She still acknowledges us as her natural partner and knows that what she swore to uphold is the destruction of her being. This is her revolution, to love in master's house and be paid for it. But, even if she doesn't go through with the act, all that is in her head makes her question her purity. I mean, why would she have all these thoughts if she wasn't a whore? Does she still have limits on what she will and won't do, or were the limits she had before the 'job'� just a front? Whichever conclusions she comes to, the longer she stays in the environment the quicker she will become a product of it. Her mental will breakdown just as a lot of ours do. The continuous do nothing schedule of the 'job'� is draining, but at the same time the ever presence of danger is exciting. The constant up and down mood swings is a killer. Never reading anything to expand ones intellect, just watching, us. The brain dulls Kid, you dig me?! A conversation of meaningful substance becomes difficult and no longer interesting. You hear what they talk to each other about, if it's not about the 'job'� it's about their piglet kids. Or about bills, who has what and who sexing who. Not to mention the all popular 'inmate such and such did'�'�
That is bugged out. While the mental is breaking down they become very vulnerable, not so much so as to us, but towards each other. We being not in a position to safely come at them, the woman starts to feel less than her high standards that she set for herself, and when the other women on the 'job'� are the one's who are coming at her she has to question her sexuality. 'Am I giving off these vibes, do I look like the type?'� 'Why am I hesitant in my refusal?'� This plays heavy on her self-esteem because if an inmate does not want her (with his less than adequate self) is she worthy of the kind of respect that other women receive. If all she gets from everyone around her are sly remarks and lustful eyes, she cannot possibly think of her existence as anything other than subservient. No one wants to see him or herself as such and as long as there is someone to kick in the ass for relief, they do it. See where the attitude comes from, though some of us play a role in how we are treated.
For me there is no reason to deal with any officer (male or female). I don't like to say more than two words to them. This is why I make sure that on the island I stay away from them, and here up north I have programs or work assignments that have the least amount of contact with them. I don't ask them for anything! If I need tissue, I go to one of us. If I'm unsure about anything, I go to one of us. There is absolutely no reason for us to interact with them, excuses yeah for most, reasons no. She cannot help us unless she is going to open the gate, give us gats and uniforms while she aids in our liberation. That's the only help, anything else is meaningless. She can bring me food from the outside but so what, the state feeds me. I'm not hungry. She can bring me a drug, that's another prison, a smart cat stays away from that stuff whether selling it or using it. We can live without it. She can hump me. Man, I've been humping myself for so long she might throw my rhythm off. Plus if she humps me and I know about her husband in the town and the CO in the next housing unit that she's humpin', she'll hump you too! That's some humped out pussy, she can keep it. Funny thing is she knows all of this that is why she has no respect for a dude that deals with her from in here. She can only see him as a weak individual, someone weaker than her. Someone more dependent than she is. She goes into the dynamic (the contract) in an aggressive manner, taking the dominant position. Since we are dependent on pigs for everything as it is, we remind her of her young ones at home. Always asking for what you can and cannot have. Whining, throwing tantrums, and filing grievances. The more childlike we become, the more of her role as 'Big Momma'� is accepted. This starts her to telling dudes how she wants the housing unit run, how to live and to respect her by watching what they say as well as always being clothed. Once dudes feed into that stuff, it's over. No matter how bad she looks, how bad she smells, how bad she speaks, when she comes to work she will always be the dime to those dudes. Until the time she runs into one of us, then the role gets switched.
I don't have to tell you how I rock, you know me, and I only speak from experience. When we remain rebellious we keep our natural status when it comes to women in this situation, they must see us as equals. No matter what anyone says or does to us, she will recognize the strength. It is a very nervous dynamic which could blow up at anytime. So here I must say again we should never deal with them. I'm always working on keeping my prison card mark free, no blemishes. For us that's all we have in this world of 'punk shit rules all'�. How can I prove to anyone I'm not snitching, if they can't hear what I'm saying but can see me kicking it with a pig. I'm putting myself at risk to get stabbed. Whatever I can talk to her about surely I can tell my fellow convicts. That is unless I'm being selfish only looking out for me which is the first characteristic of a snitch, he can get a deal so he can go home and be with his family, you dig me?! If I'm really kicking it to her to lay my mack down, all can hear because a true dude is going to have that pig hump everybody, not just him. Anyway, I'm falling off the subject.

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