Bipolar Mum Journey

In women’s prisons, most inmates mix. By that, I mean everyone except the Black girls. British-born Black girls mostly do, but not foreign nationals. Then the foreign nationals get into the heads of the British Black girls, and suddenly they switch up on the other girls. And if you’re mixed race well, you’re screwed. They see you as “half-blood” their words, not mine. There’s a deep-rooted hatred for white women who sleep with “their men.” People don’t really talk about this, but I am.

On the Mother and Baby Unit, I was the only white girl for a long time. I was good friends with two British Jamaican girls from Birmingham, and it was all pretty chill, until three foreign nationals came onto the wing: two from Africa and one from the Caribbean. Boom. The dynamic changed overnight. The whole wing turned on me and became openly racist, towards me and my white, British son.

The next few months were extremely difficult and depressing, not just because of the other women but also because of the predatory officers with weird behaviour.

Some girls would come to my cell and tell me that my boyfriend on the out was writing to the black girl who worked in the visit shop, and that he was sending her money. I knew that was bullshit, he wouldn’t send money to anyone. He was (and still is) selfish as hell. I’m still waiting for the £80 he supposedly sent me in 2009.

Although, when I threatened to knock his head off during the next visit if he kept spending my money on the out, he took me a bit more seriously.

Another white girl arrived on the wing, and the girl from the Caribbean said, “Oh look, Whitey’s got a new mate.” That infuriated me. Imagine if I’d said something like that to her? She said the most vile things about my son, and to be honest, if I hadn’t needed my place on the MBU, I’d have kicked her straight in the c**t.

Another time, I was in the TV room and they all came in to watch a Beyoncé DVD. They sat down and stared at me until I left. Later, the British Jamaican girl came up to me and said she felt bad about how they were treating me. I said, “Don’t fucking tell me that ask yourself why you’re not backing me if you think it’s that wrong.”

This went on for a couple of months until the main bully finally got shipped off to a detention centre. The dynamic shifted slightly after that, and the British girls clearly felt foolish for having been brainwashed by her. They tried to make amends but honestly, I wasn’t interested.

A lot of it came down to jealousy. My baby’s dad was backing me, coming to visits, taking his son out, and sending me money (even if I had to ask for it). Without stereotyping, their baby daddies didn’t visit, write or send money full stop. 

One day, the Caribbean girl overheard me having a heated phone call with him. She said to the others, “He ain’t sending her money for shit, watch.” I rang him back from landing phone downstairs, quietly, and said, “You better send me £250 now so I can rub it in this bitch’s face.”

He did. I over-indulged on canteen and got him to smuggle in a bunch of stuff on the buggy fags, chocolate, makeup, cds. They were fuming. The only makeup available was Avon, and it was crap.

So yeah, three to four months of raising my baby on the MBU was hellish not just because of five openly racist women, but also because of a predatory officer who took full advantage of me being singled out.

So for the moaning c**ts on my Instagram, what have you got to say to that? Am I sitting on socials saying “all Black people this” or “all Black people that”? No. You know why? Because people suck. In general. So stop fucking bitching and rephrase what you’re saying.