CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
2000- Up North
It was December. I was twenty-three years old.
Twelve months ago, I dreamed of being a civilian.
Now I was an inmate.
After three months of mental anguish languishing in Rikers, I was finally being shuffled around by the New York Bureau of Prisons. They ran me through the gauntlet of processing points.
First, I was taken up to Bedford Hills Correctional Facility- the maximum-security joint in Westchester. But that was just a brief stopover to log me into the system.
Then they loaded me into a mini-bus headed to god knows where. Eventually they let me know that I was being transported to Beacon Correctional Facility, up in Poughkeepsie.
Fun fact- Beacon was New York State's only minimum-security facility for women[1].
I mean, I wasn’t excited but I knew I would be okay doing two, two-and-a-half years there.
Little did I know that I’d walk out of that place with an understanding that solid female friendships were a crucial factor in the development of my soul.
[1] Beacon Correctional Facility For Women was officially shuttered in 2013.
