According to the Prison Policy Initiative, LGBTQ+ individuals face arrest rates more than double those of their straight counterparts, with lesbian and bisexual women being over four times more likely to be arrested than straight women. Additionally, one in six transgender people have experienced incarceration at some point in their lives.
Tony Vick is currently serving a double life sentence for murder at the South Central Correctional Facility in Clifton, Tennessee, where he has spent nearly three decades. Throughout his time in prison, he has taken on various roles, including tutor, clerk, and newspaper editor. He has also led book clubs and co-authored two books: Secrets from a Prison Cell: A Convict’s Eyewitness Accounts of the Dehumanizing Drama of Life Behind Bars (2018) and Locked In and Locked Out: Tweets and Stories on Prison and the Effects of Confinement (2023).
In a recent essay for Filter Magazine, Vick, who grew up in a strict Southern Baptist household and was deeply closeted, reflects on being openly gay in prison and the changes he has witnessed over the years. “The experience of being gay in prison has changed a lot since I was first incarcerated almost 30 years ago,” he notes. He recalls that very few prisoners were open about their sexuality back then, and those who were often faced severe consequences, sometimes ending up in “administrative protective custody,” which is a euphemism for solitary confinement.
It’s estimated that 85% of LGBTQ+ individuals in U.S. prisons have been placed in solitary at some point, typically under the pretense of protection, despite numerous reports indicating that such confinement can be psychologically damaging and tantamount to torture.
Vick observes that more openly gay men have entered the South Central Correctional Facility over time. While many still choose to keep their identities discreet, they are no longer entirely hidden. “I started to meet other men who were gay, and while not exactly open about it, would tell you if they were pretty sure you were gay yourself,” he shares. He joined this “quietly gay crowd” to live in relative peace and avoid sexual assault.
The Prison Rape Elimination Act of 2003 (PREA), signed by President George W. Bush, aimed to combat sexual violence in prisons. However, it wasn’t until 2012 that the law took effect, and although conditions have improved somewhat, Vick believes much work remains. He highlights that many men, both queer and straight, are still coerced into sexual acts with other prisoners or even guards in exchange for protection, often becoming someone’s sexual “property.” This abuse frequently goes unreported.
“For many newbies who find themselves in that position, performing coerced sex acts for one man is preferable to a life of being constantly brutalized by a multitude of men who also take your commissary items,” he explains.
Under PREA, incarcerated individuals undergo annual “classification hearings,” where they answer questions about their identities and any history of sexual assault. However, Vick points out that these labels can be misleading. PREA categorizes individuals into three groups: “predator,” “victim,” and “neutral.” Generally, those identifying as heterosexual are labeled “neutral,” while LGBTQ+ individuals, regardless of their experiences, are classified as “victims.” Those convicted of sex crimes are deemed “predators.”
Vick notes that many LGBTQ+ individuals are misclassified as “predators” due to circumstances such as being sex workers living with HIV or teenagers involved in consensual relationships. He writes, “In my experience, LGBTQ+ people in prison are just as often classified as ‘predator’ as they are ‘victim.’”
Since “victims” and “predators” cannot be housed together under PREA, this often results in the separation of gay individuals from those imprisoned for sex crimes, like same-sex prostitution or outdated HIV exposure laws rooted in homophobia.
Identifying as LGBTQ+ during a PREA hearing also increases the likelihood of being placed in solitary confinement for “protection.” “Though I’ve been openly gay for a very long time now, each year during my PREA hearing I identify myself as heterosexual,” Vick admits.
He concludes, “In the LGBTQ+ community at South Central Correctional Facility where I’m currently housed, just about everybody has been sorted into one category or the other. In real life, they might be friends who would be perfectly safe living with each other, and probably safer living with any random LGBTQ+ ‘victim’ or ‘predator’ than any of the random heterosexuals they have to be assigned with instead.”
