I pass as a female, even if I’m not yet. It wasn’t my fault I was born male. I didn’t get a say in the matter. I owe New York at least 11 years, and thus, my goal of becoming a woman gets pushed back as well.

I was in prison at 24, looking more like 16 or 17, and feeling 12. Scared, quiet, passive. Unfortunately, that was what M. was looking for. He was quick to make his “ties” known to anyone and everyone. It was intimidating to me.

Quite early one morning, while everyone was sleeping, he came to my cube and made me masturbate him. Obviously this let him feel more confident, and weeks later the event happened again. The last act he tried with me occurred in the shower. I was in there alone when he came in and attempted to rape me.

Months later, I had a bunkie, R. It was about 3am when he apparently decided he would force me to perform orally on him. Fortunately, this arrangement didn’t last long, and that was his only assault on me.

About 2 to 2 ½ years later, B. made his way into my life. We had worked together for quite a while, cleaning up after others had gone to bed. We worked our butts off, got along, and generally, made the best of our time by either watching some TV or listening to music. We even shared a room.

I should have known better than to get comfortable and relaxed around him. Around any man in that environment. While we were working one night in one of the most secluded areas in the dorm, I was forced to perform orally on him before he raped me. Weeks later, after we had even gone to bed, he got me out of my bed and raped me against my locker.

For a time after that, I came to believe these actions were in the past. That I no longer had to worry. How could I have let myself feel that way?

After about 1 ½ years of being left alone I ended up with double-trouble; two people in the same dorm. J. would do all he could to corner me in the laundry room and then either have me masturbate him or he would rub himself against my butt. This happened a number of times.

The second guy, D., was bold enough to try to kiss me, which I’ve never really been into or comfortable with, even with those I like. It just doesn’t feel natural yet. I was forced to perform orally on him in a number of different ways, on many occasions, either in the laundry room or slop-sink room.

Over a year later, S. declared that I was going to belong to him. After a few days of worrying, the dreaded time arrived. In the middle of the night I was forced to orally pleasure him before he raped me in his cube. He was “removed” from the facility after I talked to some friends I felt I could trust.

A few months later, I was in the grievance office to complain about an unrelated issue, and was raped by L., one of the clerks.

The last individual, W., trapped me in the laundry room and wouldn’t let me leave before he had what he wanted. I was forced to perform orally on him, and he wasn’t into being gentle.

Now my hell is to worry what will happen to me until I owe the state no more time. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable telling someone in an authoritative position, since it’s never worked for me in the past. Until my time is done, I suspect that I’ll remain quiet.