A note on decrim as it slips away, shattering my heart:

To all the leftists and progressives in Portland who spent more time bickering over semantics, whether it’s substance use disorder or addiction or problematic drug use, I hope you’re pleased. 1/ To everyone who debated for hours about whether it’s Latinx or Latino or Hispanic or Latin@; to the WHITE PEOPLE who told Latinos that Latino isn’t the right word; to those that derailed entire meetings to argue over minute phrasing; great work. 2/

For a lot of people who smoke fentanyl, they’re going to continue getting their foil from the nearest store, not wanting to make a trek to an exchange.

Smokers will remain a harder-to-reach population, which affects everything from Narcan access to healthcare utilization. 1/ I never would have driven all the way to a syringe exchange just to get a crack pipe, for example. They were sold at the corner store for $1.

Because bubble pipes are more expensive and can’t be shoplifted, people tend to be willing to trek to an exchange for one. 2/

Today I returned to the apartment where I was raided by SWAT, for the first time, as part of a documentary.

It was “felony friendly” housing, and mostly BIPOC.

How the neighbors reacted to the swarm of cops shocked me. / While I stood handcuffed outside the apartment, surrounded by cops telling me I was going to do 20 years for my best friend’s accidental overdose, the neighbors came out so inspect the commotion.

They were not afraid of us. They were afraid *for* us. /

Prison is boredom punctuated by senseless cruelties.

A cruelty that haunts me didn’t even happen to me, or to any person. The thing that haunts me is what they did a tree. 1/ Outside of the unit was a tall fir tree. It was visible from the balcony on those rare occasions they’d unlock it for us.

We could sit in the lobby of our prison and look out the window and pretend, for a minute, maybe we were somewhere else. 2/

Addiction led me to federal prison. My sentence ended 4 years ago tomorrow.

I want to share with you the stories that I'm most proud of since landing my dream job.

My 1st story is my most read. My favorites features to follow! 1/9 daily.jstor.org/how-veterans-c… Mass incarceration is American history. Full stop. Recognizing this, @RevealDigital embarked to gather and preserve prison journalism that spans across 2 centuries and all states. It's available open access on @JSTOR. 2/ daily.jstor.org/introducing-th…

Drug decrim means people who use drugs will never go to jail just for using/possessing drugs.

10 years ago this month, I was a full-time paramedic student on the dean’s list, working at Domino’s Pizza, earning income and military education benefits. I was addicted to heroin.🧵 During my first arrest, you can still see my red Domino’s uniform shirt on in my mugshot.

I’d seen friends turn to theft to support their habits. I didn’t have the stomach for it. (Or the necessity, perhaps.) I had legal income.

I ended up in jail that night all the same./

This holiday season, everyone wants to ask me about Brittney Griner.

Aside from my standard spiel about prison conditions being analyzed differently when in Russia vs when in our backyard, I have another point:

She’s going to be fine. 1/ Not fine in the unscathed way, to be sure. Fine in the survival way.

An incredibly improbable thing happened to me, and I faced 20 years for a charge most people didn’t know existed in Oregon.

What I did didn’t feel like much of a crime. 2/

I was in prison with moms who didn’t have anyone to care for their kids during their sentence. Their parental rights were permanently revoked, which is the most cruel and permanent collateral consequence that exists. So many women had families where every member had felonies that made them ineligible to become legal caregivers, per CPS rules.

My friend had been undocumented and couldn’t find anyone to present to Texas CPS to take her kids. She lost them forever.

Harm reduction saved my life. Years into recovery, I never forgot the kindness of Haven Wheelock.

My family had forced me into treatment twice, only for me to relapse and OD.

I walked into the syringe exchange scared and alone. I’d had a hep c exposure. 1/ She didn’t say, “but don’t you want to go to treatment?!” I’d been down that road and learned I was a hopeless case. (What forced treatment + 12-step does to us.)

I would’ve spun on my heels. I knew then that I was a junkie piece of shit who would die in my addiction. It’s ok.2/

I stole in my addiction exactly once, taking $200 from my mom during an IV coke binge + texting her to confess as I drove away.

I struggled—I mean *struggled*—to hold down a job, to go to college to get my military $, to have legit income.

Didn't matter. 1/ Anyone who knew I did hErOiN treated me like a thief, not based on my presentation or behaviors, but on their preconceived notion of what a drug addict is.

The police treated me like a criminal. In fact, theft would have been a misdemeanor but drug possession was a felony. /

Why I won't call it a poisoning crisis, a thread.

Out of all the people I know that died from opioid-induced respiratory failure, only one truly overdosed. My mom, who knew her *dose* of morphine and then overdid it. Overdosed.

No one else could dose, therefore overdose. 1/ Back in my day, my friends died from heroin. And died they did. One day they used 0.20 grams and it was just right, the next it wasn't enough, the next they died.

Overdose implies agency and an element of intentionality. My friends had agency but the dosage wasn't intentional.2/

Just found a stack of bills that were sent to me while I was in prison. The highlights:

$1,000 to Washington County Corrections for supervision fees

$450 for the doctor bill for when i got scabies at a court mandated treatment center $350 for OHSU from when I stepped on a needle at a trap house and was treated like garbage by the ED staff

$963 to Central Oregon Community College, curious since between Pell and military I had no tuition due

$1,112 to Jefferson County for two traffic tickets

My catalytic converter has been stolen out of my Prius for the second time this month.

The first time I was angry. Now I'm just sad. My society is a cannibalizing itself, a thread. 1/ It was stolen out of two very different cities. Last night, they got interrupted and only sawed through it without managing to remove it.

Yes, a Prius cat is valuable. But this is less about coincidence and more about widespread desperation. 2/

I lost my mom 7 years ago today.

A cathartic thread. / Even if I would have had narcan, I wouldn’t have thought to use it. I did drugs, not her. TW /

When I think of the labels that comprise my identity, there are many. Formerly incarcerated is at the front.

Queer. Woman. Student. Portlander. Writer.

Person in recovery usually trails in the list. Until this year when my struggles reached unprecedented heights. /thread Using + getting strung out on heroin in jail forever changed how I viewed my own addiction. It became clear to me I never wanted to use again. In March 2015 I asked my judge to transfer me to a jail with less drugs, she obliged, and I never used again. 2/