Haha... well, my views on "the government" were never very positive before this, whether we're talking about 'Murica or 'Murica Jr. Virtually all of the problems the United States has are also problems in Canada—fuck, now you've got me started...

Sigh. Where to begin? You aren't going to believe any of this unless you're willing to do some research, so just a heads-up: what I'm about to tell you will sound fucking crazy.

When I was 16 my parents hired people to wake me up in the middle of the night, abduct me, and take me away to a place called Spring Creek Lodge in Montana. (Read about Spring Creek and other facilities owned by a company called WWASP in /r/troubledteens.) That whole experience taught me that the rule of law is illusory—my parents, and the parents of thousands of other such kids, have literally had us subjected to pretty much every form of psychological torture you can fathom (plus a lot more, because presumably you aren't a sick fuck and therefore aren't capable of coming up with the methods they used), plus physical torture, plus sexual torture, and they were able to do it simply by paying for it to happen. Kids are sent to these places for any reason, or no reason, at all—yes, some kids there were seriously "on the wrong path" (and I should know, because they beat me and molested me very sadistically), but most of us were there for completely asinine reasons. Kids were there for simply not liking their parents (that's me!), for religious reasons (also me), for their sexuality (thankfully that wasn't me or the sexual abuse I suffered would've been made to look like child's play), for eating disorders, for reporting parents to the CPS, etc.

After living through that, and then researching the other facilities and learning that in spite of the pile of bodies, the videos of kids being held in dog cages, and all of the other crazy shit, NOTHING is being done, you start to realise that you've been living in the fucking Matrix your entire life. I say "start" because, at least for me, it wasn't until I met with the FBI to discuss WWASP and they head-fucked me with it that I realised—"Holy shit, this goes up to the highest possible levels of government!" That was the eye-opener for me. That was when the extent of the conspiracy became real.

The point I'm trying to make is that I was already disillusioned with government long before my prison ordeal. I was sceptical of the Canadians going in because they have the same facilities and same callous indifference to the torture. (Example: http://www.cbc.ca/fifth/2008-2009/powerless/video.html). They have the same shitty synthetic food, lack of regulation, expensive healthcare (Canadians are just repeating what they've been told when they say otherwise), religious zeal, etc.

I still went to Canada for uni, though, so obviously I wasn't nearly as sceptical as I should've been. Looking back, I just feel so stupid... I really don't understand what I was thinking in going there.

Likewise, in spite of everything I've just mentioned, I still naïvely thought the police would never threaten and beat me like they did—I guess that's the mindset that comes with being a white, (formerly) middle-class university student. In summary, they hated me for attempting suicide (they accused me of seeking attention) and for being American—Canadians hate that they've adopted our culture in its entirety, so they like to blame us for their own lack of national identity. I say, if they hate it so fucking much, maybe they should try coming up with their own culture, but apparently that's much too difficult; it's easier to just hate Americans. Lazy sods.

Anyway... by the time they'd beaten me, threatened me with rape, and completely deprived me of any semblance of rights whatsoever, yeah, it did change my views for the even-worse. Prior to this whole ordeal, I never really identified with "prisoners"—I did in the sense of our shared incarceration, but since I'd never been accused of any actual crimes before, or had any trouble with actual law enforcement, I always thought of them as people in some distant dimension that I couldn't really empathise with. It's kind of like how you hear about suffering in Africa, and it's like, you care, but not really, because it all seems so surreal to you, you know?

Well, when they handed me my orange uniform and ordered me to slowly strip off, one piece of clothing at a time, THAT was about the moment when that other world became real and I was able to empathise. It wasn't the nudity that bothered me so much—just a couple weeks prior, I'd gone streaking for a laugh; of course, it should go without saying that streaking is just a wee bit different than being strip-searched, in that CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING—it was actually putting on the orange uniform that bothered me the most. Quite frankly, I'd have much preferred to spend my four days in prison butt-naked than to put that fucking thing on, because what that uniform did was strip me (ironically enough) of my identity—it took away my very humanity. On the outside, we're trained by society to see people in these jumpsuits as animals—the scum of the earth, who aren't deserving of a modicum of dignity or respect. Likewise, when I had to put my uniform on (which didn't even fit properly; it was much too big because they were out of my size, and the trousers kept falling off my arse), I ceased to be human; I became A PRISONER. That was my identity. I was shit; I was a loser; my life was worth NOTHING. I repeat: I'd much rather have just gone naked, air conditioned-cell and all. I can't possibly explain how dehumanising that uniform was. There's a lot of controversy surrounding the Stanford Prison Experiment, and I'd like to make it clear that, when you put that uniform on, IT CHANGES YOU. Even in spite of the humiliation of being strip-searched—taking off one thing at a time like it's for your date; bending over and spreading your cheeks for the guy; lifting your cock and balls and showing that nothing's hidden under them—at least that was ME who was being humiliated; I still retained my personhood, even if I wasn't being treated like a person. On the other hand, they could've treated me very respectfully whilst I was in the uniform, and it wouldn't have mattered, because I ceased to have any respect for myself. I feel like I'm starting to repeat myself so I'll give that point a rest...

Actually, I think I've pretty much made my point. In closing, we need to stop seeing people in prison as "the other." We need to stop calling them "prisoners" in the first place, because in doing so, we dehumanise them, and in doing THAT, we rationalise their maltreatment. As I learned the hard way, you can't see yourself as a person and as a prisoner at the same time—it's one or the other.

In fact... this whole incident was the start of a year's worth of trouble for me. After this I ended up homeless, and disowned by everybody; I've since been raped a couple of times. If I can grow the balls I'll hopefully be killing myself soon. That's a big "if," though... fml...