Our Bodies, Their Currency: Parenthood and Survival in Texas’s Carceral System

The following piece is both a condemnation and a call to action — a raw testimony that exposes how sexual extortion operates as official policy disguised as individual corruption. I write this as someone who has witnessed the calculated cruelty firsthand, who has seen guards weaponize parole reviews and disciplinary cases to coerce sexual favors from mothers desperate to return home. This isn’t about isolated incidents of abuse. This is about a systematic architecture of control that transforms reproductive healthcare into punishment, menstruation into leverage, and maternal love into vulnerability. My goal is to connect the dots between reproductive oppression inside prison walls and the broader assault on bodily autonomy happening across Texas and beyond. The same forces restricting abortion access, criminalizing pregnancy outcomes, and surveilling Black and Brown bodies operate both inside and outside of prisons. The methods change, but the mission remains constant — control. I hope this piece illuminates for readers how reproductive justice cannot be separated from prison abolition. Every discussion about bodily autonomy must include those of us behind bars, because our experiences reveal the blueprint for broader reproductive control. This is my resistance — bearing witness to our survival and refusing to let society ignore how incarceration weaponizes our bodies against us. We will not be conquered, and our stories will not be silenced. 

They don’t tell you that your body becomes currency in prison. That your dignity has an exchange rate where freedom is the prize and those holding the keys know exactly how to manipulate a parent’s desperation to see their children again. 

They call Texas the “prison rape capital of the world” for a reason.¹ The Austin-American Statesman didn’t make up that title, they just put words to what people of all genders experience in these facilities. In Texas more facilities are deemed high-risk for sexual abuse than in any other state, and that’s just what gets reported. 

The first time I realized my body no longer belonged to me wasn’t when they put handcuffs on me or when they issued me my prison whites. It was a few weeks into my sentence, when I heard a wounded animal wail, followed by people rushing to console the grieving one. Let’s call her Lisa. Later, I heard whispers that Lisa was at risk of losing her children to the family policing system, Child “Protective” Services (CPS). After continuously seeing Lisa exit the utility closets with guards, I naively asked, “what’s going on?” Another guard crystallized the picture, saying those guards were “helping with her upcoming parole review. Lots of folks get disciplinary cases right before their board date. Shame if that happened to Lisa,” he said and winked at me. 

Here in Texas prisons these types of incidents aren’t isolated. They’re part of a calculated system of control. Guards know which incarcerated people have children, which ones are desperate to get home, which ones can’t afford another parole denial. They use this information like ammunition. If they write enough bogus disciplinary cases, your five-year parole eligibility becomes seven, becomes ten. Your children grow up without you, becoming strangers. So when guards offer their “help” in exchange for sexual favors, many feel they have no choice. 

There are a few incarcerated individuals who do choose to serve their full sentences rather than submit to this sexual extortion. I’ve seen folks sacrifice years of freedom, watching their children grow up in photos rather than play this degrading game. But for many of us, especially single parents, that’s not an option. When your babies are in the system, when they’re hurting and need their parent home, you do what you have to do. 

The Silent Sacrifices

The indignity of reproductive healthcare here breaks you down piece by piece. When we complain about the lack of toilet paper we’re told, “Equal Rights! You get seven rolls a month like men’s prisons!” ignoring that people with vaginas require toilet paper each time they use the restroom. We can’t just shake dry. We menstruate and require more supplies. The lack of supplies combined with forced unpaid labor means we sometimes use socks as toilet paper and exchange soiled pads for clean ones like we’re living in medieval times. 

Complaining is usually awarded with retaliation. Want a mammogram? Get ready to wait at least a year. Need a pap smear? If you live in certain areas, you’ll have a male guard standing behind a screen listening to every detail to parrot to everyone within earshot. “How many STIs? How many abortions?” the doctors bark, never asking about our pregnancy complications or medical history, just counting what they see as moral failures. According to a 2021 study by the Prison Policy Initiative, approximately six out of ten incarcerated women in jail have had at least one pregnancy terminated. Many of us are survivors of sexual violence; a Vera Institute of Justice and the Safety and Justice Challenge report found that 86 percent of women have experienced sexual violence before incarceration.² These intrusive exams retraumatize us all over again. No wonder many avoid the infirmary, preferring to ask family to send reproductive health books and printouts from Dr. Google.

But they are denied for “encouraging deviant behavior” and/or containing “sexually explicit images.” We’re even denied the state-issued, illustrated tampon insertion instructions for this reason. When friends are issued disciplinary cases for self-mutilation, the charge isn’t self-harm or even a mental health evaluation — it is “destruction of state property.” The same charge as ripping a bed sheet. That is how literally they mean it when they say we belong to them. The message is clear: your body isn’t yours anymore. 

Weaponized Faith and Targeted Control

The forced Christianity adds another layer of control. Mandatory faith-based programs shame queer and transgender people, telling them their “lifestyle choices” are why they’re here. Staff issue disciplinary infractions accompanied by lies that LGBTQIA+ people must register as sex offenders upon release for consensual same-sex activity like holding hands, embracing, and intimately showering together. The church sermons center submission and acceptance of our “place” based on gender. Project 2025 rhetoric has become increasingly common, promoting biblically based traditional values where people who are transgender and single parents don’t exist. According to the Williams Institute, incarcerated people are three times more likely to identify as LGBTQIA+ than the general population, making this targeted discrimination even more devastating.³ It’s no coincidence that many of the halfway houses we’re forced into after release are run by these same religious organizations preaching a return to yesterday. 

When the Department of Justice (DOJ) released their report on Julia Tutwiler prison in Alabama in 2014, it documented how guards sexually assaulted and impregnated incarcerated women, forcing them to carry and deliver their rapists’ babies.⁴ The findings revealed a pattern of abuse dating back two decades with over 230 cases of sexual misconduct. It read like a page from our story. The DOJ describes Tutwiler as a “toxic sexualized environment,” a bug in the system. But it’s not just Alabama. FCI Dublin in California earned the nickname “Rape Club” before a 2024 $116 million-dollar landmark settlement for 103 incarcerated people who suffered sexual abuse at the hands of the warden, chaplain, and multiple federal corrections officers.⁵ FCI Carswell in Texas faces ongoing complaints of abuse targeting medically vulnerable people.⁶ In reality, the bug is a feature in every women’s prison that everyone is eager to ignore.

Bodily Autonomy Denied

Unlike Tutweiler, we can access birth control, but it’s not used primarily as a contraceptive. Many use Depo Provera for the side effect of stopping their periods despite the medication being subject to a class-action lawsuit for links to intracranial bleeding. The state doesn’t provide enough menstrual supplies. Predatory guards know this, so they weaponize our basic biological function. “Need some extra pads this month? Maybe we can work something out,” guards say. A 2019 ACLU report documented multiple cases of guards withholding menstrual supplies for sexual favors across several states.⁷ The lack of access to hygiene items leads people to create DIY tampons from pads, risking Toxic Shock Syndrome and infection. The medical fees are designed to discourage us from seeking care. This results in things like a simple vaginal infection becoming a serious condition because we can’t afford treatment. Add the medical staff’s complicity with anti-LGBTQIA+ tactics by grilling folks about having sex with another incarcerated person. The medical staff lies and says, “This is the only way to get a yeast infection.” Once they coerce a confession of being in a same-sex relationship, the guard issues a Code 20.3 which prohibits consensual sexual acts between incarcerated people. This impacts transgender and nonbinary people particularly harshly, as their healthcare needs are routinely dismissed, denied, or used as leverage for abuse.

The exploitation doesn’t end with release. If anything, it intensifies under mandatory supervision. Your parole, probation, or bail officer, almost always male, has complete control over your freedom. One bad report and you’re back inside. They know this power and some abuse it mercilessly. Then, there are the job supervisors who discover you’re on parole. “Your parole officer needs monthly employment verification,” they’ll say, closing their office door. It’s déjà vu: submit or lose your job, violate parole, and return to prison. 

If an unintended pregnancy occurs, people on probation, bond, or parole can’t travel out of state for abortion care with an electronic shackle tracking every medical appointment that must be explained and approved. The recent wave of pro-life legislation, such as Texas Senate Bill 8 and House Bill 1280, effectively bans abortion after six weeks and criminalizes the procedure entirely, with no exceptions for rape or incest. These laws disproportionately impact people already under surveillance because our movements, communications, and medical appointments require approval and documentation. Recently, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton has moved to criminalize those providing assistance to people seeking abortions: whether driving them to appointments, providing childcare while they’re at the doctor, or providing financial assistance. For the hypersurveilled, these restrictions make accessing reproductive healthcare nearly impossible without risking reincarceration. 

The parallels between reproductive control inside and outside prison walls are striking. Inside, our mail is censored; our bodies surveilled, punished, and weaponized; and our healthcare and hygiene items rationed. Outside, people in Texas currently face increasing restrictions on bodily autonomy with forced ultrasounds, censored communications, ever-changing laws, and no state access to abortion care. The methods might differ, but the goal remains the same: control over people’s bodies, particularly Black and marginalized bodies of all genders.

Sadly, the reality is that for many incarcerated folks, especially Black women and transgender individuals, reproductive justice isn’t just about choice. It’s about survival when you reside in a state with the highest uninsured rate and leader in Black maternal mortality. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, Black women in the United States are three times as likely to die from pregnancy-related causes compared to white women.⁸ Forced childbirth becomes a potential death sentence, whether you’re behind prison walls or navigating parole, bond, or probation. 

Resistance Is Survival

We will not be conquered. We resist. We resist in ways big and small. We share torn-out magazine pages with basic health information. We have a whisper network and hand signals to warn each other about predatory staff. We draw diagrams of our anatomy on cell walls to teach how our bodies work. We steal medication from the infirmary. We are nonjudgmental of those who are targeted with sexual intimidation, whether they submit or refuse. Both are victims. We build mutual aid networks across the fence to help friends outside access reproductive healthcare by providing our safe family addresses to mail “prohibited” medication. We document, and we support one another.

We will continue to resist until society acknowledges that forcing people to choose between sexual exploitation versus abandoning their children isn’t justice. It is state-sanctioned assault. We resist, and — in a system designed to strip us of our dignity and autonomy — we find small ways to preserve both. 

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Endnotes

1. Rose Luna, “Why Texas Is Still the Prison Rape Capital of the World,” Austin-American Statesman, September 26, 2018, www.statesman.com/story/news/2018/09/07/commentary-why-texas-is-still-the-prison-rape-capital-of-the-world/9966023007/; James Austin, Tony Fabelo, Angela Gunter, and Ken McGinnis, “Sexual Violence in the Texas Prison System,” Report by JFA Associates, September 2006, https://www.prearesourcecenter.org/sites/default/files/library/jfainstitute-texasresearch.pdf; Daniel Augusto and Steven Flick, “Inmate Sexual Assault within Texas Correctional Facilities: An Ongoing Problem,” College of Safety & Emergency Services Journal, 2021, https://csesjournal.columbiasouthern.edu/inmate-sexual-assault-within-texas-correctional-facilities-an-ongoing-problem/.[↑]
2. Elizabeth Swavola, Kristine Riley, and Ram Subramanian, Overlooked: Women and Jails in an Era of Reform (Vera Institute of Justice and the Safety and Justice Challenge, 2016), https://vera-institute.files.svdcdn.com/production/downloads/publications/overlooked-women-and-jails-fact-sheet.pdf?dm=1568746265.[↑]
3. Ilan H. Meyer et al., “Incarceration Rates and Traits of Sexual Minorities in the United States: National Inmate Survey, 2011-2012,” American Journal of Public Health 107, no. 2 (February 2017): 271, https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2016.303576.[↑]
4. US Department of Justice, Office of Public Affairs, “Justice Department Reaches Landmark Settlement with Alabama to Protect Prisoners at Julia Tutwiler Prison for Women from Harm Due to Staff Sexual Abuse and Sexual Harassment,” May 28, 2015, https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/pr/justice-department-reaches-landmark-settlement-alabama-protect-prisoners-julia-tutwiler.[↑]
5. Richard Winton, “Women Victimized in ‘Rape Club’ at California Prison Get Record $116-million Settlement,” Los Angeles Times, December 17, 2024, https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2024-12-17/feds-agree-to-pay-116-million-to-victims-of-sexual-assault-by-employees-at-shuttered-dublin-federal-prison. For more on FCI Dublin, see Sara Matthiesen’s article in this issue.[↑]
6. US Department of Justice, Office of the Inspector General, Review of the Federal Bureau of Prisons’ Use of Restrictive Housing for Inmates with Mental Illness (Evaluation and Inspections Report 17‑05, 2017), https://oig.justice.gov/reports/2017/e1705.pdf.[↑]
7. ACLU National Prison Project and Period Equity, Menstrual Equity: A Legislative Toolkit (ACLU and Period Equity, 2019),https://www.aclu.org/wp-content/uploads/publications/121119-sj-periodequitytoolkit.pdf.[↑]
8. Emily Widra and Emmett Sanders, “New Data on Pregnancy Prevalence, Outcomes, and Programs in Prisons Are Welcome Additions, but Raise New Questions,” Prison Policy Initiative, May 7, 2025, https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2025/05/07/2023_pregnancy_prison/.[↑]