Hey empresses! Your girl, Phoenix, is back with another dose of reality, served with a side of hard-earned wisdom. Today we’re diving into one of the most crucial lessons I’ve learned behind these concrete walls—and trust me, this one came with more bruises to my ego than I care to count.
The Sayings They Don’t Teach in Prison Orientation
You’ve all probably heard the term “if you can’t beat them, then join them.” For those of you who haven’t listened to this little gem of conventional wisdom, let me break it down: the saying means that if you can’t beat them at their own game, then join them and play the game with them. It’s like being invited to a poker game where everyone else is cheating, so you start cheating too to keep up.
While that might be true in the free world—where you might join the office gossip circle to avoid being gossiped about or adopt your boss’s terrible communication style to get promoted— it’s definitely NOT true in the Department of Corrections. In fact, it’s probably the worst advice you could follow if you want to survive prison with your sanity and your sentence intact.
Meet Your New “Customer Service” Representatives
These employees who work for the corrections department can be viewed as the worst representatives in the entire “justice” department—and that’s saying something, considering we’re talking about a system that includes parking ticket officers and DMV workers. They speak to you as if you were a piece of shit on their shoe and look down on you as if you were garbage that somehow gained the ability to walk and talk.
I have even heard some of them refer to us as trash and garbage before—real creative with the vocabulary, these folks. But hey, what can you say, right? You have to bite your tongue and say “okay” because if you disagree with them, the first thing they want to do is put you in confinement faster than you can say “constitutional rights.”
It’s like being stuck in the world’s worst customer service experience, except the customer service representative has the power to lock you in a closet for 60 days if you ask to speak to their manager. I discuss this power dynamic further in my segment called “No Voice”—be sure to check it out if you want to dive deeper into the wonderful world of prison politics.
The Verbal Warfare Championship (Spoiler: We Always Lose)
Back to what I was saying about this twisted version of “join them.” In a verbal war between a corrections officer and an inmate, the corrections officer will almost always win. NEVER. Not even if you’re a debate champion, a lawyer, or someone who won every argument with their mother growing up. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, and lost EACH AND EVERY TIME.
It’s like playing chess against someone who gets to move their pieces twice per turn while you have to ask permission to touch the board. The game is rigged from the start, and the house always wins—except in this case, the house is the Department of Corrections and you’re betting with your freedom.
I learned this the hard way, through multiple “educational experiences” that left me questioning my life choices and wondering why I thought my mouth could write checks that my incarcerated status definitely couldn’t cash.
The Height Disadvantage (Yes, Really)
And don’t let your height be a problem either—because apparently, being tall while Black and incarcerated is considered “intimidating.” Standing at your full height during a “conversation” with an officer can be viewed as disrespectful or disorderly conduct. You know what that means? That’s right, a write-up faster than you can say “I was just standing normally.”
It’s like being penalized in basketball for being too tall, except instead of free throws, you get free time in solitary confinement. The irony is not lost on me that in a system supposedly designed to rehabilitate, they punish you for things like… existing at your natural height.
The Write-Up Lottery System
Speaking of write-ups, let me educate you all on this delightful little system they have going. A write-up can either be a DR (Disciplinary Report)—which is basically the prison equivalent of getting called to the principal’s office, except the principal can sentence you to solitary confinement for up to 60 days, restrict your canteen privileges (goodbye, honey buns and ramen noodles), or cause you to lose gain time (which means staying in prison longer).
Then there’s the CC (Contact Card), which isn’t as bad—it’s like getting a warning ticket instead of a full speeding ticket. The only way you get punished with CCs is if you collect three of the same type, which then magically transforms into a DR. It’s like Pokémon, but instead of “gotta catch ‘them all,” it’s “definitely don’t catch three or you’re screwed.”
The system is so perfectly designed to keep you walking on eggshells that you start to feel like you’re playing hopscotch in a minefield.
The Attitude Adjustment That Wasn’t Optional
There are some officers whose attitudes are so set up—and by “set up,” I mean permanently stuck on “miserable human being”—that you can’t even have a basic conversation with them, let alone a pleasant one. These are the ones who wake up and choose violence, emotionally speaking, every single day.
You’ll ask a simple question like, “What time is chow?” and they’ll respond as if you just asked them to solve world hunger while standing on their heads. The energy is so hostile that you start to wonder if they’re getting paid extra to be unpleasant, or if it’s just a natural talent they’ve cultivated over years of practice.
So you learn real quick: don’t say a slick remark when they give you attitude, because then YOU’LL be labeled as the disrespectful one. It’s like being in an abusive relationship where you get blamed for making the other person hit you, except it’s institutionalized and legally sanctioned.
The Art of Strategic Surrender
In the justice department—whether it be a judge, police officer, or prison official—your best bet is to perfect the art of saying “yes ma’am” and “no sir” like your life depends on it. Because honestly, your quality of life behind bars absolutely does depend on it.
This isn’t about being weak or giving up your dignity. This is about being smart enough to recognize when you’re in a rigged game and adapting your strategy accordingly. You can’t beat them at their own game because they literally wrote the rules, control the board, and serve as both player and referee.
But here’s where the real wisdom comes in: you don’t need to join them either. The Third Option: Strategic Excellence
Instead of beating them or joining them, you do something revolutionary—you beat them by being better than them. You win by maintaining your humanity while they lose theirs. You succeed by refusing to let their toxicity poison your spirit, even when they’re doing everything in their power to break you down.
Every time you respond with “yes ma’am” instead of the colorful language your brain is suggesting, you’re not being submissive—you’re being strategic. Every time you bite your tongue instead of engaging in verbal combat you can’t win, you’re not being weak—you’re being wise.
You beat them by not allowing their behavior to change who you are at your core. You beat them by using your time behind bars to grow, learn, and become the person you were meant to be, despite their best efforts to keep you exactly where they think you belong.
The Long Game vs. The Short Game
See, most people in prison are playing the short game—reacting to every slight, responding to every provocation, fighting every battle that comes their way. But the smart ones? We’re playing the long game. We understand that every DR is time added to our sentence, every CC is another mark against us, and every verbal altercation is another reason for them to make our lives more difficult.
The officers who treat us like garbage? They go home every night to their families, their comfortable beds, their freedom. Their attitudes and behavior don’t change their circumstances— but they absolutely change ours. So why give them that power?
The Psychology of Power Trips
Let’s be honest about what’s happening here. Many (not all, but many) of these corrections officers are individuals who couldn’t make it as honest police officers, couldn’t handle being teachers, or couldn’t succeed in jobs that require actual skill and compassion. They end up working in corrections because it’s one of the few places where they can feel powerful by making other people feel powerless.
It’s like being a substitute teacher for adults, except instead of trying to inspire learning, they’re trying to crush spirits. They get off on the power dynamic because it might be the only place in their lives where they feel like they have control.
Understanding this doesn’t make their behavior acceptable, but it does help you realize that their treatment of you says everything about them and nothing about you.
The Real Victory
The real victory isn’t winning an argument with a CO. The real triumph isn’t getting the last word or proving your point. The real victory is maintaining your dignity, completing your sentence without adding extra time, and walking out of prison as a better person than when you walked in.
You beat the system by not letting the system beat you. You win by refusing to play their game of degradation and dehumanization. You triumph by holding onto your humanity when everything around you is designed to strip it away.
Practical Survival Tips
Here are some practical ways to navigate this reality:
Master the Art of Gray Rock: Become as bland and unremarkable as possible during interactions. Give short, polite responses. Don’t provide entertainment value for their power trips.
Document Everything: Keep notes about incidents (within reason and facility rules). Knowledge is power, even behind bars.
Find Your Allies: There are some good officers out there—rare as unicorns, but they exist. Identify them and maintain respectful relationships.
Channel Your Energy: Use that anger and frustration as fuel for self-improvement, rather than fuel for confrontation.
Remember Your Why: Every time you want to give up, remember your children, your family, and your goals. Is this argument worth additional time away from them?
The Ultimate Lesson
You don’t have to beat them, and you definitely don’t want to join them. You have to outlast them. Your sentence has an end date; their miserable attitudes appear to be permanent.
Every day you survive with your dignity intact is a day you’ve won. Every interaction where you maintain your humanity while they lose theirs is a victory. Every moment you choose wisdom over winning is a step closer to freedom.
The goal isn’t to become like them or to defeat them in their own game. The goal is to become so much better than them that their opinions of you become irrelevant. The goal is to transform yourself so completely that by the time you walk out those doors, you’re not the same person who walked in—and that transformation has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you.
Final Words of Wisdom
So remember, beautiful empresses: in the battle between your freedom and your ego, choose freedom every single time. In the choice between being right and being smart, choose smart. In the decision between temporary satisfaction and long-term success, always choose your future.
You can’t beat them at their own game, and you definitely don’t want to join them in their misery. But you can absolutely rise above them, outlast them, and outgrow them.
And that, my loves, is the sweetest victory of all.
Phoenix Rising continues to share hard-earned wisdom about navigating the complex dynamics of prison life, demonstrating that sometimes the strongest response is strategic silence and that true victory lies in personal growth, not fleeting victories.