MC Shakie's Blog

  Mama Cat My Fourth Prison Husband: Union Parish (Farmville), Part 6 Let me tell you something that might sound small but is not small at all. After three years in prison, I sat down and took a private bathroom break for the first time. Just me. A sheet hung across a doorway. No one watching, no one walking past, no one seeing me be a human being in the most basic possible way. I sat down and I did not have to perform being okay with the situation. I could just exist for a minute, by myself, in a body that was mine. I cried a little. Or maybe I did not cry and it just felt like I was going to. I cannot fully explain what three years of no privacy does to a person except to tell you that a sheet hanging in a doorway felt like freedom. They called it the boom-boom room. I called it a miracle. Welcome to Farmville. * * * I Did Not Want to Be a Trustee Union Parish Detention Center. They call it Farmville, after the town—Farmerville, Louisiana, smaller than Claibor...

  Motel 6 and the Country Boys My Third Prison Husband: Claiborne Parish, Part 4 by Rodney "MC Shakie" Roussell They called it a disciplinary camp. What they meant was: you've made enough bad choices to end up here, and we want you to know we know that. I arrived at Claiborne Parish Detention—Claiborne Parish being located in Homer, Louisiana, which is so country it's not even country like I understood country—and the first thing I noticed was the quiet. Not peaceful quiet. Ordered quiet. The kind that means everyone has already learned what happens when it gets loud. The second thing I noticed was a white homosexual working the booking desk who looked me up and down, clocked my energy, and said:   + text + Miss Drew, the officer at booking, looked up from her paperwork and said:   + text + I had never been there before in my life. But a queen knows a queen, and she saw something in me that said: put her with her people. I went to A-6. A-6 was called Mot...