Seraphic Disclaimer: This post contains some language that is a bit, actually, a lot more graphic than is normally found in Seraphic Secret. So if you are young, under 18, religiously modest, or secularly modest, the following, which deals with life in a women’s prison, might not be appropriate reading matter for you.
In Which We Meet Cindy the C.O., Who, In Spite of Her Status As a Guard In This Most Maximum of Female Prisons, Reminds Your Faithful Screenwriter/Correspondent/Memoirist of One Memorable Fictional Character, Daisy B.
I: Set-up
“Why should we trust you Hollywood guys?”
On the prison yard, I’m with Cindy, 26, a Corrections Officer, sitting at one of the picnic tables. While doing research in this woman’s maximum security prison for Within These Walls, I’m not allowed to go anywhere by myself. A C.O. has to be with me every minute of every day. Thus, Cindy is assigned as combination guide, baby sitter, and bodyguard.
The yard is vast, teeming with hundreds of female inmates. In progress is a vigorous basketball game. Several players are outstanding: dribbling between their legs, hanging in the air for soft jump shots, and hard, slashing drives to the hoop executed with the graceful aggression. Cindy tells me that the prison has a few crack athletes—bad pun totally intended—former high school stars brought low by bad drugs and badder men. In one corner of the yard, clusters of inmates pump iron. I have to squint to assure myself that the women are, ahem, women. Their bodies are so buff they seem chiseled from blocks of Renaissance marble.
“Thing is,” says Cindy the CO, “the movies always make these cons look like Mother Theresa.”
“I know, I know,” I mutter.
“You gonna do that to us, make us the heavies?”
I’m about to give Cindy a mini lecture about prison movies and the requirements of the genre, but on second thought, I decide to keep it personal, and by the way, make Cindy my accomplice.
“Cindy, look, you got this program, the inmates train dogs for the disabled. Is it a good or bad thing?”
Cindy bites into her ham sandwich. She’s a small woman, barely five feet tall, thin as a stalk of wheat. She nibbles her food like a bird.
“It’s a good program,” she concedes, “a real good program. I been with it since the beginning, six years—the ladies do good in the program. So do the dogs.”
Silently, I chalk up two points.
Ten yards from us, two women covertly suck face. Cindy yanks her stick from the scabbard on her belt and—
—and WHAP!
Raps on the table—sharp as the flat crack of rifle shot.
“Heyyyy! What’s this, audition for Mr. Hollywood? You ladies chill or I write you up.”
The inmates pry themselves apart like sticks of gum and get all apologetic, but they’re grinning—it’s a game and the cons enjoy seeing what they can get away with. Cindy coolly waves off their excuses.
Cindy’s about to bite into her sandwich again when she notices that I’m not eating. Graciously, she offers me half her ham and lettuce and white bread. I thank her, but decline.
“You a vegetarian, that’s like a Hollywood thing, right?”
“It is and I’m not. Already ate. Thanks.”
Actually, I’ve been eating apples, carrots, melons and nuts. When traveling and kosher food is not available, that’s my typical diet. And this prison is located in rural America, the closest kosher restaurant is, um, a thousand miles away.
II: Conflict
I ask Cindy if homosexuality is common in the prison. She looks at me as if I’m the biggest moron in the world.
“Robert, I doubt there a chick who doesn’t go to Mexico while they’re incarcerated—sooner or later.”
“They get lonely, huh.”
Cindy cracks up and gives me a friendly punch in the shoulder.
“Lonely. Listen to you, Mr. Sensitive.”
Your faithful correspondent is feeling dumber by the minute.
Cindy continues: “Lonely, maaaaaybe. But definitely frisky. The inmates who aren’t straight-up dykes might like men in the world, but hey, friction is required. And of course sex, rape and whatever is a weapon.”
I decide not to ask Cindy what whatever covers. I’m pretty sure it’s stuff I really don’t want to know about if I want to get a decent night’s sleep. On the other hand, don’t I have a professional obligation to conduct thorough and in-depth research?
Nah.
“I thought sexual intimidation is more common in male prisons.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“I like to stay home and watch Sesame Street.”
Actually, I like to stay home and watch silent films, screwball comedies, movies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, but this probably isn’t a great time to reveal the full extent of my lunacy.
Cindy chuckles: “I got a news flash for you: women are big-time vicious. We got a handbook of rules for the inmates—eighty-six iron do nots—and lemme tell you, sex and everything that goes with it is mentioned more than anything else. You wouldn’t believe the problems we have with stuff like secret marriages. The jealousy that gets loose is in-sane. With chicks it’s a lot worse than with male inmates and I’m speaking from personal experience.”
Turns out this is Cindy’s second hitch as a CO.
“My first gig was in a male prison.”
I can only stare in mild disbelief. Cindy is so tiny. And quite lady-like for a woman who carries a scary wooden baton and plastic flexcuffs.
“Guess what, Robert?”
“I’m beyond guessing anything in this place.”
“The men’s prison was an easier hitch. Much.”
“Get out of town.”
She shakes her head. Her hair is strawberry blond, cut in an attractive Colleen Moore Dutchboy. Freckles are sprayed across the bridge of her nose. Adorable and bright, my every instinct tells me that Cindy will play a big role in my movie.
“Here’s the thing about men: they got a beef, they go at it. It’s bloody and it’s awful and someone might end up mutilated or even flat-out dead, but the thing is, it’s played out; it’s over. Everyone is chill.”
“And women?”
“There were these two inmates. They got in-to-it over, I swear to G-d: their nails. One accused the other of stealing her,” Cindy claws quote marks in the air, “artistic style.”
Cindy shoves the remains of her sandwich into her nylon lunch sack, sips bottled water, and continues her story. Cindy’s voice is surprisingly deep for such a diminutive woman. In fact, she sounds like an oboe—think Tallulah Bankhead—and perhaps with proper training, Cindy could make a living doing professional voice-overs.
“Anyways, the ladies go at it on the yard. Punching, pullin’ hair, scratchi
n’ eyeballs, biting like dogs. Chicks fight dirty. We pull ’em apart and throw ’em into solitary, both of ’em for ten days. Then keep ’em on separate blocks. It’s all good. Two years later, I’m sittin’ right here, right in this very seat and all hell breaks loose. I run over and Jesus H. Christ, one of the chicks is lying on the ground with a home made knife in her spine. No more nail copycats.”
Cindy waves her forefinger in my face like a first grade teacher making a point to a particularly slow student.
“Chicks: they never forgive and they never forget.”
III: Resolution
My eyes wander to the yard. Tight groups of hard-eyed women press their faces together and urgently whisper. I’m pretty sure they’re plotting my assassination.
I want to go home to Karen.
I want to hug my children.
I will never let them go.
“In high school,” says Cindy, “there were always these chicks, boosters and cheerleaders, the girls who wore different outfits every single day of the week; chicks who made you feel like crap; and they enjoyed your misery. You know something, Robert? Prison is like being back in high school all over again.”
“For the inmates.”
Cindy drags her fingers through her hair, a habitual gesture. Then she looks at me, as if she’s not quite sure she should say what she’s going to say, and I’m not even sure she says it, but what she does say and the vulnerability that informs her voice is quite startling. And her face, as F. Scott Fitzgerald describes Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby, is “sad and lovely with bright things in it.”
“Yeah, Robert, for the inmates… absolutely.”
To be continued…
Kiwi:
Many academics are, unfortunately, out of touch with common sense.
just born fully grown in the ivory tower?
That must certainly be the case.
Kiwi:
It took the psych experts a long time to realze the obvious, don’t you think? I mean, didn’t they ever go to grade school, high school, or were they just born fully grown in the ivory tower?
It’s true, teenage girls are brutal. The psych experts are just realizing it, but the first time I read the idea, I thought, whoa, so true!
Robert, your other commenters have said it so well that I have little to add but to join in
and say that this new series is powerful and gripping. I think you've struck just the right balance with the language. I don't believe that reality should be prettified, but at the same time there's no point in being extremely vulgar when it's not needed to get the point across. In any event, I'm looking forward very much to Part III.
Sara
Thanks for adding the disclaimer. I was reading your post aloud to my husband (before the disclaimer was there), and was a bit surprised by your language… but did not edit it as I read. As was said before, it’s perfect as-is. Can’t wait for part III.
Robert, what you say about women does not surprise me…I would never want to come up against a mother protecting her child…nothing more ferocious on earth.
Robert, I just ordered the DVD from amazon. I’m looking forward to watching it.
Robert, don't let the prudes win over you. The post is great. And a cheer for James Joyce from my little corner too.
Well, I have heard school teachers say exactly the same thing – essentially that it is easier to teach in an all boys school than an all girls school. Boys can be more aggressive and violent, but they don't generally hold grudges, whereas girls do.
Robert,
Enjoy. That is the word that comes to mind regarding this past post. I didn’t enjoy it because it was harsh or because I appreciate violence but because I appreciate reading about experiences that are different from my own.
In a bit of coincidence today I blogged about a very disturbing video of girls fighting that I came across on Google.
It is terribly disconcerting to me that people thought nothing of filming this chaos and a sad statement about where things are. But I think that it is better to look through open eyes than to bury our heads in the sand because it allows us the chance to try and fix the problems that plague us as opposed to just wishing that they would go away.
My apologies for making this such a long comment.
Rightmom:
It’s true, if the terrorist is a woman, she is gone.
In the IDF, when training snipers, they are drilled over and over again to “shoot the women first.”
The idea being that in a room of terrorists, the woman terrorist is the most dangerous because she is going against her nature, therefore eliminate her first as she will invariably be the greatest threat.
Obviously, our Ivy League feminists are going to get the vapours over this one. They won’t know whether to celebrate the brutality of the women terrorists for this makes them the equal of men. And yet how can they bear a doctrine that states that women are by nature more gentle and nurturing than men. Yup, they’re trapped in the crosshairs of life as it really is.
Few people remember that the first female airline hijacking was commited by the totally self-obsessed Palestinian Leila Khaled in 1970. She’s had more plastic surgeries than Joan Rivers. After every terrorist attack, she goes under the knife, she claims so that she won’t be recognized. But if you look at her pictures, she always looks the same. Just younger. And younger. Leila is a fashion conscious butcher.
And one of the most vicious terrorists on record was the Italian terrorist Susanna Ronconi of the Red Brigades and the terrorist cell Prime Linea. In the late 70’s Ronconi personally murdered seven innocent men and women, that we know of, probably more. She boasted of all the abortions he had–in the name of The Revolution.
In Germany there was Ulrike Meinhof, a truly evil and perverse female killer. To read her story is not to recognize the species.
Kim Hyon Hui, a mad and unbelievably beautiful North Korean agent who tried unsucsessfully to blow up a civilian airliner. Kim was a former child film star–which shows how dangerous show business can be, especially in lunatic North Korea.
Of course, we must not forget “the hard women” of the IRA: Mairead Farrell was shot dead by the British SAS in 1988. She had carried out a string of ruthless bombings. The Price Sisters were responsible in 1973 for a bombing campaign in London, in which 180 people were injured. They were known as The Sisters of Death.
And now in Israel, Arab women are enthusiastically blowing up Jews. For the most part these women are forced into the role of sharia, martyr. They are divorces, and have little prospects of marrying again, or they are suspected of adultery and thus are given the choice of being murdered by their brothers, or going out with a bang of martyrdom. Honor killings are huge in Gaza now that the Israelis have pulled out.
We can expect to see younger and younger girls participating in this terrorist activity for Palestinian society has become nothing more than a gruesome death cult.
Remember: Shoot The Women First.
I wasn't much affected by the raw language. I hope that doesn't mean I've simply become insensitized.
Perhaps there really are topics that need exploring, that cannot honestly be explored without some candor in the language.
I do appreciate warnings. It gives me permission, so to speak, to stop reading if it gets too intense. Perhaps honest writing with honest warnings is the best way to strike the right balance.
My name is actually Russianized Greek in origin! ; ) But it's very common in the region in general and can be Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Bulgarian, Hungarian, or Romanian! : )
Robert, I'll have to make more up! : D
Robert, what I've said to you before, I'll say again — this is *fabulous* writing. "Gritty" is the perfect word; "harsh reality" would be the ideal phrase.
We readers have discovered a different side of Robert Avrech; our sensibilities might be a bit shaken by the sudden jarring movement, but we're along for the ride, and wearing our safety buckles.
Like any person, like any good writer, you're multifaceted. Thanks for letting us see a different side of you and your writing.
Robert;
Please don’t change a word; not one word! It would not have the same impact if you did. It is perfect as it is.
Again, your story had a surprise for me. The CO thought the chicks were more difficult to deal with? That flies in the face of Conventional Wisdom. But then again, it made me think about something I was told about 25 years ago……
I had a boyfriend that traveled a lot. He was sent to a school to learn how to try and survive a terrorist attack (like in a hijacking). He was told to try to talk to the terrorists, to chat them up and try to “humanize” himself. But, if the terrorist is female, not to bother. She is “gone” and will not turn back……
I can barely wait for part III!
Suz:
Thanks so much. Karen and I are glad you like Seraphic Secret.
I’ve already voted, and will be there on Saturday to do so again. It’s a sincere vote for a wonderful blog. I’m so glad I found you guys.
Suz:
A disclaimer. By George you might be right. Let me talk it over with Karen. Thanks so much.
As for being free, well, not quite… I would appreciate everyone who reads and enjoys this blog to cast their vote for Seraphic Secret as Best Personal Blog in the Jewish-Israel Blog Awards. Details in the sidebar, and at the end of "Home Again."
I'm a cheap date.
Yes, there is more to come in the "Home" series. Enjoy your popcorn.
Robert, the language was raw, it got my attention, made that scene real for me. I appreciate your attitude of checking yourself, your standards because of young people surfing by here. I would hope you would not feel compelled to change those two scenes nor to homogenize the continuations (which I hope are on the way). Perhaps a disclaimer at the beginning of those type of posts? Just a thought. Really, really interesting writing, and all for free. I'm gonna remember to pop some popcorn next time. Suz
Dear AVI:
Hmmm, coould be.
Yup that was as rough a crowd as I've ever seen. And the worst is yet to come. Stay tuned for Home Part III.
Irina can be a Romanian name. Is that so for you?
My caseload is not as rough as that crowd, but we have some overlap on admissions. I think you captured the scene well.
Irina:
It's a beautiful word. I'm not kidding. I am going to use it. Anymore like it? Also, you have a lovely name, is it Russian?
LOL, I take after the President for coining words! : )
Randi:
Yup, you’re right, I misquoted. And gee, am I ever glad to be the bearer of the grit to liven up your life.
"I'm not sure that my responsibility is to express what I've seen".
Okay Robert, re-read my words because that is not what I said (although I forgive you).
What I said is, that it's your job as a writer to express your point, however you best see fit(if that means toning down your words, then so be it).
And as far as my enthusiasm for raw material goes…a nice Jewish girl has to get some grit in her life somehow.
Randi:
I'm not sure that my responsibility is to express what I've seen. I think maybe that's a bit too narrow. However, I do find it interesting that you seem so… enthusiastic about such, ahem, raw material.
Irina:
I loooove the word "immensively". It's like something James Joyce would have coined.
Thanks so much for your comment. I think we're all kind of in agreement on the careful use of language.
I enjoyed these two posts immensively. They are filled with insight. My personal view on profanity is that if it’s put in an appropriate context (such as these posts), there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sure even younger readers understand it. There is, however, no real necessity to use profanity in the discussion of what transpired, so I kind of agree with that too.
Robert, your job as a writer is to make your point, however that needs to be done. I, frankly, did not even notice vulgarity (so what does that say about me!) Please, keep writing these stories. Use whatever language you must to get your experience across. The world you are describing is not a pretty one, and therefore the language reflects that. But it is real, and it's understandable if someone is uncomfortable reading it. That's the beauty of freedom in America…with one click of a mouse, you can leave this blog. Your responsiblity is to express what is in your mind and heart…in a way that you best see fit.
Yael:
Thanks so much. Always good to hear from you. Points well taken.
And yet… and yet… you know Little did strike a chord with me.
I do have a responsibility to my readers and to tznius, to modesty. And as a parent, I know that parents cannot always monitor what their children are reading. It’s just impossible.
Truth is not always the highest value.
So, I have to find, as Rambam, Maimonides says, in Hilchos Dayos: “Derech Ha-emtzai, the middle ground.”
I want to tell you all about my visit to the prison, and yet I need to alter the language enough so that the intent is clear, and the vulgarity tempered.
It’s a tall order.
But youi know what, in the end, this kind of writing and editing, usually makes for a stronger piece of prose. Hopefully, I have been succesfull.
Robert & Karen,
Yes, the last two were “raw”, and sent chills up my spine- and fantastic. It’s real. It’s part of the human condition, and even if that is uncomfortable- it is true. There are plenty of difficult and eyebrow raising scenes in our Holy Torah – because we learn from Truth. Even uncomfortable truth. If “Little” is truly “little” – that is really not your problem: Little’s parents need to watch what Little is reading. I’m not a blogger – though I check in on your fine blog almost daily. Please continue to post your observations the way you see it. Everything you write, gives your readers a lot to think about.
Little:
Thanks for the comment.
You are correct, these two posts are quite raw for Seraphic Secret. However, believe it or not, I have heavily edited the true language of the conversations which were much more profane and xxx-rated.
I apologize if I have offended you and others. Perhaps I made a mistake.
Others should chime in and let me know.
BTW Little, how little are you? And is the answer going to send me into a spiral of despair and self-loathing?
On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t answer.
maybe my definition of profanity is overly sensitive, or maybe the no profanity rule for the comments doesn't apply to the posts, but the last two seemed more, a well, raw, than the usual.
don't det me wrong – great in many ways, as your posts tend to be, but just not what i was expecting to see here. this is your private property, but i imagine you get many housecalls by the young fans of your literature.
my 2c. love, little me.
ok – i'll vote for you 🙂
please check out my blog as well