THRU THE VENT: Duke Blowmoney
“In the penitentiary, much time is spent “locked down” due to lack of staff, solitary confinement, shakedowns, and a host of other factors. Those in lockdown units – confined to their cells all day – often use the ventilation system to communicate. Speaking about everything from family secrets, personal history, to one’s future, through a vent is where we shared what was on our hearts and minds. This is no different. I present to you… THRU THE VENT.”
Curated & Co-Written by BL Shirelle.
THRU THE VENT is a series made up of lived experiences from prison-impacted people — musicians and non-musicians alike — where they share their triumphs, tragedies, and everything in between. This is a judgment free zone. Some stories will be triumphant, some will be heartbreaking, they will all be nothing more than human.
Duke’s Story.
For fear of retaliation I’ll keep my real name private, but a lot of you may know me from one of BL’s most classic songs, “Generational Curse.” The streets call me “Duke Blowmoney.” I hesitate to share this with you all, but I am in a stage of transition in my life and I think this essay is a part of the growing process, so here it is. In a very unfortunate turn of events I caught a case. I AM INNOCENT. At best I am guilty of being present in a place I shouldn’t have been, but I am still fighting this case so that’s the most I can say. (I will keep you all updated.) Over the course of the past decade I’ve made my family my priority, matured in my decision making and haven’t been arrested in over ten years so I’m real life sick that I am somehow back in this position in my mid-30s. My teens and twenties were filled with incarceration. I have never been upstate, but I’ve done like ten years (or more) in the county going in and out (they call it the LIFE on installment plan.)
So I’m no stranger to this shit, I’m built Ford tough. I can do a county bid on my head. I can sleep through an 11½ to 23 month sentence. Well, I used to be able to do that. Sometimes I question myself like damn, “was it always this bad and I just didn’t value my life as much?” But naw, these county jails are FUCKED UP!! Let me proceed to telling y’all what I’ve witnessed and experienced in my latest bid.
Upon entering State Road (which is the home of the six Philadelphia county jails) I wasn’t sent to the only all women’s facility Riverside Correctional; I was sent to the Detention Center, which was originally used as the “hospital jail.” They have turned the psych unit into the unit where women are housed which presents the first problem: there’s no access to the normal shit a unit typically has i.e. water fountain, hot water or anything they would deem unsafe. That sucks but okay, I can deal with that. They immediately put me in quarantine for two weeks which was expected. What wasn’t expected is that my two weeks were extended anytime anyone on the unit tested positive for COVID-19; leaving me in quarantine with no access to commissary, regular phone calls, or any of the benefits of General Population for months. We were 23 and 1 like we were in solitary confinement my whole stay due to “lack of staff” and at times our names were even forged on the rec sheet and we weren't let out at all depending on who was working. I felt especially bad for people who were withdrawing from opiates and other drugs. We didn’t have access to cleaning supplies, even after they may have shit themselves in the shower, they would request new jumpsuits and not get them, only a C.O. telling them “stay off that shit.”
I truly felt like I was in some type of social experiment when the power went out and they had no working back up generator and you could hear the mice squeaking and scratching around through the night in the temporary darkness. They would slide your tray under the door, a door thick with mouse fur, lent, and dirt - your bread brushing up against the bottom of the door. This place has become especially cruel during the time I haven’t been coming back.
My most traumatic moment was when I had to get BL to call the prison and file a complaint on my behalf. I was experiencing some excessive menstrual bleeding that they wouldn’t treat me for. Not only did they refuse to treat me for a while; they also refused to give me more than two sanitary napkins per shift due to my sexuality. They judge “studs” or “masculine lesbians” and often accuse them of making dildos with sanitary napkins; not that it doesn’t happen, but it’s one of those things where if you are wrong about that assumption it is disrespectful and degrading for the person experiencing it. I was down bad in there. I was terrified for my health and my well being. I witnessed people having to use towels and sheets for pads just because the “supply man didn’t come yet.” Breakfast served at 10am, lunch at 1pm and dinner at 3:30pm, not being fed again until 10am. Don't get me wrong, some shit is jail shit. Cold breakfast comes with the game, but not dispensing medication without water.
Aside from the way the correctional officers were treating us like animals, I couldn’t get over how everyone was accepting all of this. We used to make it hard for them to treat us like this collectively, but there’s no fight in that jail; which is the reason I’m writing this now. I came home on house arrest to fight my case six months ago and since I’ve been home I’ve been educating myself on our rights, meeting comrades, and spending more time with BL (the closest activist friend I have). I want to learn how to use my voice the right way and enact change through it; this is my first attempt. I pray I don’t end up going back there, but there’s a chance I will and if so I want these experiences to be documented to the public in an effort to shed light on these horrific conditions. If you have an incarcerated loved one please support them, love them, pray for them. We need y’all.
