By Angie D. Gordon
The Vanguard Incarcerated Press claims as its credo a commitment to the promotion of uncensored voices, and in consideration of this position, I would like to address the question of self-censorship and the need for critical accountability in incarcerated writing. I make this point while being confronted by some hard facts about incarcerated writers, those who so often demonstrate an overall vagrancy in discretion and poise, an absence of subtlety and wit, and an overindulgence in whiny and factually unsupported drivel. The plain and simple truth is that words matter, and they are not simply thrown out into a void; rather, the words we write remain, they circle about, and all too 
often, we as a community are forced to contend with the careless rants of our members, their ill-thought words having been twisted and weaponized against us. That, however, is the challenge of non-censorship. How do we deal with texts which are half-baked at best, and at their worst, composed through animus and spite? In this article I will present an argument for the use of robust and unapologetic criticism as a mechanism by which to encourage self-censorship amongst our writers, and to illustrate this method, I will offer a critical reading of a piece recently published in the VIP.
Argumentation, and with it criticism, are essential to the advancement of science and social understanding, but more, the presence of a critical force lurking within an audience acts as a safeguard against flawed or inaccurate writing. When a writer knows that their work will be reviewed by their contemporaries, when they know that it will be read by those holding rival views, and when they know that criticism lingers on the waiting horizon, they tend also to write with more intention. It is not an entirely pleasant experience for a writer to have their casual and unsubstantiated claims confronted, to have their misuse of language challenged, or to have holes in their argument bore open and used as a foothold from which to advance a contradictory position; however, where being subject to a ruthless critique is unpleasant, it is an experience no less necessary on one’s way to becoming a more well-rounded and accountable writer. Knowing that your facts will be checked and your positions challenged makes you more careful, and part of becoming better scholars and journalists is subjecting our work to critical review. Granted, critique can be uncomfortable and frustrating, but it is an essential part of honing one’s craft.
Given this call for critical engagement, and as an example of my proposed method, I feel compelled to address an article published in the winter 2023 issue of the VIP, one written by Eileen Huber. Central to her argument, Huber claims that her incarceration, coupled with a number of traumatic life experiences, has deprived her of a sense of womanhood, a point epitomized by her closing statement: “I’m not really a woman, I am a prisoner.” Qualifying her claim, Huber remarks on how her incarceration prevented her from being a mother and a daughter to her parents, prevented her from pursuing a career or having a family, and how the carceral setting restricts her ability to express her femininity without added social complications and scrutiny. Huber argues that womanhood, for her, is built up out of social experiences, social expression, and recognition from her exterior world; in this sense, Huber is promoting a social constructionist understanding of gender identity. This position, however, is inconsistent with Huber’s sex-essentialism approach to trans women at her facility, referring to them as “biological males.” This contradiction is problematic for Huber’s argument, in that where she asserts that her own womanhood is dependent upon social experience, she seems completely willing to reject trans womanhood based exclusively on biology. If trans women, for Huber, are ‘biological males,’ and, consequently, not women, then Huber herself must accept that her status as a ‘biological female’ makes her a woman regardless of adverse social experiences and her status as a prisoner. This conclusion, however, runs contrary to Huber’s thesis, and as a result, shows the carelessness of her argument.
Beyond the gaping flaw in Huber’s thesis, her language and willingness to draw on transphobic tropes indicate that, regardless of the sincerity with which she writes, her thinking is marred by prejudice and a complete lack of perspective. Huber notes,
“As I look back on my life and try to address and heal from the traumas of my past there is the complication of now having to live with biological males …. I hear their deep voices, see the masculine features, see their violent acts on women here and I relive my sexual trauma at the hands of men from the age of 10 until my arrest at 19.”
Here, Huber’s language is very problematic, in that referring to trans women as “biological males” represents a violent revocation of their right to self-define, and in so doing Huber attempts to assert a white colonial privilege over that of trans women, the ‘right’ to name and regulate the existence of another against their will. If misgendering were not enough, Huber goes on to qualify her violence by citing physical characteristics which, beyond being out of her victims’ control, are common vectors for trans women’s social abuse and harassment. So, where Huber gave a belabored discussion on her own trauma, she seems blissfully unconcerned with dredging up the trauma of others through her offensive and careless language. Huber also claims that trans women are enacting violence against ciswomen at her facility, a statement which is problematic on two fronts.
In one sense, this claim is vague and unsubstantiated, lacking evidence and context, and therein amounts to little more than hyperbolic fear-mongering; in another sense, Huber is attempting to associate trans women with male aggression, thus demonstrating her willingness to play into harmful transphobic tropes.
A common feature in the promotion of transphobic ideology is the characterization of trans folx, though trans women in particular, as dangerous and predatory. To claim that they retain ‘male aggression’ is to characterize them as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, as a dangerous predator lurking in the shadows waiting to prey on helpless and vulnerable victims. This depiction is simply inaccurate and blatantly ignores the sexual and physical victimization that trans women are attempting to avoid when they flee male-designated prisons. Likewise, in Huber’s focus on trans women, she ignores male prison guards entirely, marking a problematic oversight in the sense that not only do these officers present as male, but represent a group whose perpetration of violence against female prisoners is well documented, and which significantly outweighs any space incidents involving trans women. If the mere sight of men is so triggering for Huber, why does she not also challenge the presence of male officers, as they outnumber trans women at Huber’s facility, occupy positions of structural authority, are ostensibly more male in presentation, and pose a more credible threat? Yet and still, Huber fails to link male officers to her sustained trauma and denial of womanhood, focusing instead on a marginalized group who experiences a strikingly higher likelihood of being sexually abused, socially tormented, and murdered in grotesque and symbolic ways.
The short-sidedness of Huber’s argument points to a larger issue represented in her work, and that is a startling lack of perspective concerning the adversities and experiences of others. Where I have not been to a women’s designated correctional facility, and where I certainly would not be one to question the lived adversities of white women there -who, from reading Huber’s depiction, appears to be a highly marginalized group-, I am left to wonder, however, if in Huber’s belittlement and invalidation of the trans women community at CCWF she does not miss an opportunity to reach an audience with whom her failed thesis might have truly resonated. I myself was the victim of sexual abuse in childhood, denied authentic access to feminine role models, and have been submerged within an institutional setting where my ability to freely express my femininity has been structurally suppressed, complicated, and in many ways rejected; comparatively, these experiences are not uncommon in my community, and in this sense, the trans community shares much in common with Huber’s experience of a carceral denied womanhood. Rather than seeing our shared struggles as a place from which to build solidarity and support, however, Huber demonstrates her willingness to debase us through the rhetorical exploitation of our vulnerabilities. In this sense, it seems that Huber does not seek to end gender-based oppression, but instead seeks to become its wielder.
While I do appreciate Huber’s contribution to the VIP, and my heart goes out to her for having been exposed to such life-altering trauma, her argument simply cannot go free without its due criticism. There is certainly a place for trans-exclusionary arguments, and there is a base of literature from which to develop positions that, though I think are inherently flawed, are still worth contending with in open debate. For transphobic zealots seeking to sharpen their chops, I suggest you read the work of Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists (TERF) like Browne (2010), Burt (2023), Jeffreys (2014), and Raymond (1979), and while I think that these scholars get the issue of trans inclusion wrong,
I no less respect them as accomplished writers and thinkers. If Hubert would like to debate the topic further I would welcome the opportunity, though, I would ask that we do so with dignity and poise, showing reverence for the lives and experiences our words will inevitably come to represent.
In closing, I want to clarify that the point of critique is not to personalize an argument made, and it is not an exercise in drawing up emotionally charged responses against positions regardless of merit; rather, critical engagement is about sifting through the implications of an author’s words, measuring out the reach of their reason, and confronting their text head-on. Ego is certainly involved here, the narcissistic play of words which we writers take such joy in, but the point must always be to advance our understanding of a topic, to contribute a voice that would have otherwise gone silent, and to challenge voices that should exercise greater discretion and intentionality before they carelessly commit words to paper.
References
Browne, K. (2010). Lesbian separatist feminism at Michigan Womyn’s music festival. “Feminism & Psychology,” 21(2), 248-256
Burt, C. H., (2023). Feminist lesbian as anti-trans villains: A comment on Worthen and elaboration. “Sexuality & Culture,” 27, 161-190.
Jeffreys, S. (2014). Gender hurts: A feminist analysis of the politics of transgenderism. Routledge.
Raymond, J. (1979). The transsexual empire: The making of the she-male. New York: Teachers College Press.
