Gabriel Guzman has dark brown eyes, but it’s difficult to discern when you talk to him. That’s because Guzman, a former Illinois prison inmate, has a hard time maintaining eye contact, one of the many lasting effects of having spent long periods in solitary confinement. Guzman was released last March after ten years in prison, about three and a half of those in solitary.
Guzman, 31, was sent to prison for having sexual relations with a minor beginning when he was 17 years old. A Latino gay man, Guzman says in an interview that he was often sent to solitary confinement for defending himself and other LGBTQ+ inmates against other inmates and prison staff.
“In prison, it’s hard,” Guzman says in a soft voice. “But being gay in prison makes it ten times harder.”
Eight percent of incarcerated adults identify as something other than heterosexual, according to a recent report on LGBT prisoners. This is nearly twice the percentage of adults in the general U.S. population who identify as lesbian, gay, or bisexual.
For many of these people, abuse because of their sexual identity is a daily occurrence. It can come in many forms, from both other inmates and prison staff.
That’s backed up by a 2015 survey of 1,118 prisoners conducted by Black and Pink, a national organization that coordinates pen pals and provides resources for LGBTQ+ inmates. It found that 83 percent of respondents faced verbal harassment by fellow inmates, while 70 percent experienced discrimination and verbal harassment by prison staff. The survey also found that LGTBQ+ people are more than six times as likely as the rest of the prison population to be sexually assaulted. And 85 percent of respondents indicated they had spent time in solitary.
Black and Pink
Guzman, who served time in several Illinois state prisons, says he worked out rigorously to become physically intimidating and to avoid abuse. Other inmates quickly learned not to mess with him. “Being gay, you have to be on your toes,” Guzman says. “I always had to be the strongest person in the area, and that was really taxing.”
In April, shortly after his release, Guzman spoke at Roosevelt University in downtown Chicago for an event hosted by Stop Solitary Coalition of Illinois, a prison reform group. Panelists shared stories, letters, and poems about life behind bars before an audience of around 35 people. The audience was a mix of backpack-wearing college students, businesswomen in suits, and activists with shaved heads and piercings.
“Being Latino and gay in prison is very difficult,” Guzman said at the event. Over time, he came to see himself as an advocate and activist, providing physical protection to other gay inmates.“I spent a lot of time in segregation for defending myself or others because I did not tolerate others being victims.”
In all, Guzman estimates that he spent a total of three and a half years in solitary confinement, often months at a time. While these inmates are often sent to solitary as punishment, such as in Guzman’s case, many are often sent as a form of protection from other inmates. Of Black and Pink respondents that spent time in solitary, 38 percent went there for protection by request, while 50 percent went for protection against their will.
“When you are in isolation, you are cut off from anything stimulating,” he says. “It’s very demeaning and very tough.”
Nationwide, there are close to 100,000 inmates in solitary confinement, often for long periods of time. A United Nations official has declared that stays in solitary of more than 15 days can amount to torture, and recommended that the entire practice be banned, except for special circumstances.
Recent activism from both inside and outside of state and federal prisons has led to some policy change in this area. In September 2015, the state of California agreed to overhaul its use of solitary confinement in response to a lawsuit brought by the Center for Constitutional Rights. The suit focused on prisoners who spent a decade or more in solitary confinement at California’s Pelican Bay State Prison.
Colorado has also greatly reduced its use of solitary, and President Barack Obama banned its use for juveniles in federal prisons.
In Illinois, where Guzman was incarcerated, a bill introduced in December 2016 would limit the amount of time that state prison inmates could be placed in solitary confinement. The bill is pending.
The mistreatment of LGBTQ+ inmates in state and federal institutions is a top priority for organizations such as Lambda Legal and the Vera Institute. Many formerly incarcerated LGBTQ people have also devoted their lives to ending the abuse they once faced.
Evie Litwok, 65, a formerly incarcerated activist living in New York, is the founder of Witness to Mass Incarceration, an archival project that memorializes the experiences of LGBTQ+ incarcerated people. Litwok told The Progressive that she was punished for openly identifying as a lesbian while in prison. She says this included sleeping in the “punishment bunks,” located near a loud ice machine and under fluorescent lights that glowed all night. Once, Litwok says she spent seven weeks in solitary confinement after writing a story about a fellow inmate who died shortly after correction officers denied her medical attention.
“Prison is about punishments,” Litwok explains. “And if you are queer, you are punished more.”
“Prison is about punishments. And if you are queer, you are punished more.”
And because this mistreatment happens behind prison walls, Litwok says, most Americans are unaware of it.
“If you think the United States has any permission to say other countries violate human rights,” she says, “then you haven’t been inside of the jails, detention centers and prisons in America.”
Hannah Johnson is an editorial intern at The Progressive and a member of Black and Pink’s Chicago chapter.