The Hypocrisy Files
Published: 2022Updated: 11 November 2022
This page is designed to highlight the many hypocrisies wihtin societies.
We focus pimarily on American society but invite readers to this page to
submit their own exanples.
We had hesitated to publish the following open letter to the Texas Parole Board. Even though the writer sent the letter under his own name, we did not want to throw more oil on the fire and smother any chance that he might succeed at his next hearing.
A year has now passed sinced the writer urged us to publish the letter. This very well written essay is too important to ignore. We now feel more confident that additional harm to the writer is unlikely. Nevertheless, we are not using his actual name.
Five years ago when I first came up for parole I was ecstatic! I
believed I had a chance. Everything lined up in my favor: a fiancé,
a family to which to return, employment, housing. A slew of
completed courses: correspondence-based sex offender treatment;
12-step substance abuse counseling; peer/SOTP counselor
certification; cognitive intervention; Voyager; Anger management;
Bible study programs. Then came the five-year set-off — retributive
and politically motivated.
That's okay. The next five years were a flurry of activity. I threw
myself into learning the law. I learned TDCJ policy. I earned a
Blackstone paralegal diploma. I completed advanced law courses in
criminal law and civil litigation. Every book or article on the
prison industrial complex, prison abolition, racial and cultural
studies, civil rights, revolutionary leaders, I devoured. I wrote
essays for various prisoner advocacy organizations about my
experiences as a gender non-conforming prisoner of war, captive
within the Texas prison system. I've explored my truths. I am
worthy. My voice explodes out against injustice. I am a human being!
In short, I became an activist advocate.
Thank you from my deepest soul for that five-year set-off!
You tried to destroy my existence, bury me. How wrong you were to do
so. I'm a seed blooming forth beauty amidst this bleak backdrop of
misery behind these rolls of razor wire. You meant to dehumanize me:
steal my voice, deny my identity by creating me anew as solely a
prison ID number, a cog in the degradation machinery -- a commodity
to be ruthlessly exploited without guilt. Even broken, I am a
thousand shining shards!
Society wants all to believe I'm nothing more than a "sexually
violent predator" criminalized for loving another. But stealing the
humanity of the "aggressor" undermines the process of accountability
for the entire community. If we separate ourselves from the
"offender” by stigmatizing them we fail to see how society
contributed to the conditions that allow violence to happen.
Yes, I freely admit I made horrible choices against the norms of
society. I can never fully express the deepness of regret for the
wrongs done my "victim": the impact on his life, the lives of his
family, the lives of my family. The injuries pile up, uncounted and
unremarked upon by a retributive society which doesn’t truly desire
healing for any party. The betrayal runs deep, a river of pain
forever gushes through the caverns of my soul.
However, was I a predator? No. Absolutely not. Assault is about
power, the taking of what is not given. That is not at all what
happened here. We had a consensual relationship lasting years. His
family accepted me as their own. I taught this young man to function
within American society; helped him to become employed; embraced him
within my household; encouraged his college career in architectural
design; loved and cherished every single moment we had together.
That is, until the state ripped us and our lives apart.
Simple stories of the perfect victim and the monstrous predator bend
reality to fit the pretexts for state violence, helping society to
justify its pretense that the physical, emotional, social, and civic
injuries of prison are somehow justice.
I did not have a "conscious disregard for my victim". Nor did I
"select them for their vulnerability". This is the lie the Parole
Board wants others to believe in order to justify their sanctions,
their ostracism. In truth, he contacted me. He lied about his age.
He lied about other things. His mother eventually told me the truth.
I made a terrible choice to continue our relationship. After all,
the damage was already done, wasn't it?
One thing I feel it imperative to stress is I would absolutely NEVER
hurt a minor, nor anyone. There was no criminal intent on my part.
There is also a huge difference between what the "law" defines as
"consent" — an ever tenuous and shifting definition —versus the
consent given between two knowledgeable, agreeable persons. Our
justice system, to the detriment of all, fails to make the
distinction between such, and actual, physical, controlling rape.
Toward the end of my last parole hearing I was rudely, sarcastically
questioned about "10,000 pictures of kids on [my] computer" by the
parole counselor. She didn't write my answer down nor did she seem
interested in the truth. To do so would not serve the disparagement
of the Board prejudging any answer I gave to be a lie. A simple
investigation would have revealed I owned a photography studio —
Rabid Panda Productions, which engaged in youth sports photography,
school portraits, quincineras, weddings, graduations, and other
events. RPP was a registered DBA in Harris, Travis, and Montgomery
counties. I paid taxes. I hired employees. I donated time and money
to local organizations. Who in society benefitted from destroying my
business and the livelihoods of those I employed?
In regards to parole, sex offenders have the second lowest
recidivism rate for repeat crimes of any felon. Only convicted
murderers are lower. Yet sex offenders are demonized and
restricted from every aspect of society, branded not only with
the "X" of a felony conviction but a massive scarlet
letter. The intent of sex offender treatment schemes and
post-conviction laws are solely to dehumanize and cause enduring
harm to those who have committed offenses in the past. They
certainly aren’t to protect society or aid in rehabilitation. The
truth is purely vindictive, as victim advocates argue they suffer
lifelong consequences as victims — those who committed an offense
should suffer for life as well.
Facts and history tell a different story. Increasing rates of
incarceration have a minimal impact on crime rates. Common sense
suggests economic precarity increases crime. Lack of housing and
employment are prime motivators of recidivism. Both are stripped
from those with sex offenses. Remember too, crime and harm are not
synonymous. All that is criminalized isn’t harmful and all harm is
not necessarily criminalized. How is society served?
In the past 15 years I've been a captive prisoner of war in this
acrimonious war on sex, I've seen drug users, prostitutes, burglars,
thieves, and other low-level criminals come back to prison time
after time after time. Some only last long enough on the street to
get a fix — then are right back on the same prison block they exited
only a few months earlier. These individuals wreak far more havoc,
cost way more in property crimes, financial woe to communities, and
damaged lives than do sex offenders. Yet it is sex offenders made
the pariah. Why is our society so terrified and adverse to sex?
Especially when hypocritical media and advertisers portray sex and
youth in every single aspect of our daily lives as desirable.
As you judge each file in approximately 30 seconds or less due to
your extremely busy schedule, have you ever paused to consider the
absurdity? The parole system in Texas is corrupt, unfair, and
benefits neither the needs of the incarcerated or the society it
claims to protect. The inmate is never allowed to grace your
presence. Rather it is solely a perpetuation of the prison
industrial complex as lawyers and parole package preparers peddle
their services to an increasingly desperate captured clientele. Two
of you decide our fate for an ever-increasing number of years
neither knowing nor caring about the person behind the number.
Have you ever stopped to question why Texas has the highest number
of prisoners in the United States? More than most countries in the
world? Why do we have thousands eligible for parole who languish in
prison at tax-payer expense, despite fulfilling obligations set by
the state? I remind you, I too, am one of those tax-payers, as are
all prisoners within the TDCJ prison industrial complex.
The University of Texas Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs
reported recently the abysmal rate of parole in Texas, noting Texas
has the most burdensome requirements of any parole system. That's
within the entire United States! This report also noted that
allowing us to take parole courses during the term of our sentence
would save Texas $744,722 every single day! That's the price for
continuing to hold the over 10,700 parole approved prisoners. Quite
ridiculous, isn't it?
What would it look like to use the tens of billons spent on the
prison system differently? What if that money were spent instead for
jobs paying a living wage, for excellent public education, for
health care, for quality affordable housing? What if we actually
used that money to build up communities rather than continuing to
outfit police with tanks and body armor to fight a war on the
oppressed?
This is our modern slavery. Mahatma Gandhi reminded us "there is no
dishonor in being slaves. There is dishonor in being slave-owners."
The shame of any violation, personal or historical, lies with those
who committed the violation, not with those who survived to heal and
rebuild. Just like, during slavery, every individual abuse,
violation and brutalization served to uphold, reinforce, and
strengthen the larger system of oppression. You have to ask
yourself: What part do you play?
Granted, I admit I've been no angel in the past. My poor choices
were a betrayal of myself, of my community, as well as of the larger
society. I dispute that not. Society has betrayed me as well. I'm a
product of the failure of not only myself but those around me.
Sexually abused as a child. Mentally and emotionally abused
throughout my teens. PTSD from growing up in the war zone of drugs,
sex, and crime. Homeless for a time. No realization of self-worth.
Berated and belittled by family, teachers, police, the courts, that
I wasn't good enough, smart enough, worthy enough, rich enough,
white enough: I would spend my life in prison. Beaten down by the
very system that was supposed to lift me up, to protect me. Bi-polar
disorder. Attention deficit disorder. Borderline personality
disorder. All this caused disorder for which I've paid the price,
deeply and tragically. Damaged. Broken. The answer for which, in the
United States, is imprisonment, enslavement, banishment. The richest
country in the world, though its promises are only to a few.
Despite all the tragedy, any behavior changes were solely through my
own self-rehabilitation. At no point did TDCJ offer any meaningful
programs of rehabilitation. Even after the set-off, nothing was
changed or offered to indicate the set-off was anything other than
additional punishment.
Am I even asking for parole? I deserve parole. I have earned parole.
I've certainly changed. Most definitely, I am NOT the same person I
was 15 years ago. I am educated, confident, self-aware, driven. I am
ready to conduct my voice as an advocate, a voice for the countless
voiceless. I have a plan for success as a productive contributing
member of society not to re-offend. Our former president George W.
Bush claimed what he "did 20 years ago has no bearing on who [he is]
today." How is that not true for tens of thousands caged behind
these fences?
With all the restrictions, fines, fees, and penalties levied upon
sex offenders I don't know if I even care to participate in the
rigged system that is parole. Can I be a great citizen though
heavily marginalized, and still do great things? It isn't really
about that. You've already determined my value. Some would say to
cooperate with a system which is oppressing you is to participate
not only in your own destruction, but in that of your community as
well. You could always prove me wrong.
Walida Imarisha writes, "But eventually I had to remember that all
anger comes from pain. The larger the rage, the deeper the hurt. I
was allowed my anger. But it was more than just rage. To pretend
otherwise would be to embody cowardice, scared of my own
complexities and contradictions in the mirror. I also had to allow
myself my sadness, as well as the love I had for my [self], because
it was out of that love that I could build a path forward."
And such it is with me.
