Visitations in prison are what keep those incarcerated, like myself, going. They are our lifeline to the outside world, a light in the darkness of despair, but most importantly, a reminder that we are still loved. And I guess the vending machine food ain’t so bad either.
Many correctional facilities in Washington state run their visit room processes slightly different, but they are pretty much universal statewide. Small visit rooms, a brief kiss and hug at the beginning and end of a visit, overpriced vending machines, officers watching your every move, and a rule book that rivals the Bible.
For me, these highly monitored visitations have probably been the most important part of my life while incarcerated. In various visit rooms throughout many of the state’s correctional facilities, I’ve clocked birthdays, celebrated holidays, counted anniversaries, witnessed my eldest son become a man, faced grief, and unfortunately watched my father grow old as the years passed.
While everybody has a different experience at their visits, one thing is the same for all of us — the strip searches after our visits.
For those of us who don’t understand what that means, a strip search is exactly what it sounds like: take off all your clothes, hand them to the guard to search through, put your arms in the air and open your mouth, run your fingers through your hair, lift your balls, turn around, show the bottoms of your feet, bend over and spread them… have a great day. All in full view of a guard closely inspecting your every move and crevice of your body.
I mean, I guess I understand why the searches are necessary. The state is just trying to prevent drugs and contraband from entering their facilities.
It still doesn’t make the strip searches any less humiliating.
Plus, they know how the shit is really getting in… and it ain’t got nothing to do with our visitors! But that’s a story for another time, eh? Loyal readers of “On the Fence Line,” y’all know wassup!
Recently, the Washington State Department of Corrections (DOC) has experimented with new ways to try and move away from these dehumanizing strip searches. For instance, at my facility, the DOC has invested in a full-body X-ray machine. Kinda like a cheaper version of what we’ve all seen at the airport.
Instead of the full strip search, after our visits, we’d be escorted to a small trailer a short distance from the visiting room to get ran through a scanner. Unlike the invasive strip searches, these scanners only require a brief pat search by a guard. If everything is clear after your scan, you’re on your way!
But this is prison, and nothing is ever that easy.
False positives are a constant occurrence. Air bubbles in your body, tooth fillings, a surgically repaired knee are all things that can get mistaken for contraband and set off an unseasoned guard. And these are just a few examples of what can turn a simple scan routine into something way more serious. In those cases, that unlucky person oftentimes just gets rescanned, but in other instances can even get taken to solitary confinement until things get cleared up. Ultimately, the guard has all the discretion in these situations. So one can imagine how often this process gets abused by disgruntled guards out to assert their authority.
This is a tough lesson I unfortunately had to learn the hard way on February 7, 2025.
After a visit with my wife, I was sent to the trailer to be scanned as usual. However, this time, the vibe just felt off. The guard was being super aggressive and seemed a little on edge. Knowing what I already described above, I just did what I had to do, hoping to make it through the process as quickly as possible.
But when the guard stormed around the scanner from his computer screen and approached me where I was waiting to be cleared inside a little red square on the floor made with tape and gave me a directive to take off my clothes, I was super confused — the scanners were meant to eliminate strip searches, remember?
When I asked why and if he was serious, he just gave me the directive to strip again. As someone who has been in prison going on 16 years, and has dealt with many awkward altercations with guards, I know that these don’t usually go my way. So I did the only thing I could do. I complied.
Honestly, I’ve gone through countless strip searches in prison and it never gets easier. You just find different ways to numb yourself and make it through.
But this time it just felt different. Because as I was getting dressed, I looked up and realized that where I got stripped searched was in full view of a security camera mounted above me. Immediately I felt even more humiliated, dehumanized, and embarrassed about who else could’ve had access to that security camera. But most of all, I felt ashamed for not speaking up for myself and not resisting.
I just finished getting dressed and walked back to my unit.
In the weeks that have passed since that day, I’ve asked other guards and colleagues of mine what the proper procedure for that type of incident generally is. They all told me that we’re not supposed to ever be stripped naked in front of a camera. And if the situation calls for a strip search, then I should’ve been brought to the infirmary to have it conducted.
I was advised to file a formal grievance against the officer, which I’ve done. But I don’t really know what happens next. For me, I want some sort of accountability for what happened, but nothing will undo the harm and humiliation I faced that day. Yet, with all that being said, I’d go through all the bullshit again if that’s what I had to do to spend time with my wife. Because at the end of the day, that’s all that truly matters to me: her.
If the DOC really cared about reconnecting families, they wouldn’t try to discourage visits by making us go through these dehumanizing procedures just to spend time with our loved ones. But their actions continue to speak louder than their words.
I don’t know what comes next, guys. Last time I filed a grievance against a staff member I was sent to solitary confinement and shipped to a different facility… retaliation for speaking up. I hope this time is different. I hope this time there’s some level of accountability and changes in the way we’re treated in here. Because nobody should ever have to go through what I just went through.
Until next time, keep dreaming!
Felix Sitthivong is a journalist, organizer, member of Empowerment Avenue, and advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). Through APICAG, Sitthivong has organized immigration, social justice and youth outreach forums and has designed Asian American studies courses, an intersectional feminism 101 class and an anti-domestic violence program. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO Box 900, Shelton, WA 98584.
Felix Sitthivong is an incarcerated storyteller, community organizer, and founding member of the Peoples’ Empowerment Assembly for Collective Equity (PEACE). Sitthivong is also the former president and senior advisor for the Asian Pacific Islander Cultural Awareness Group (APICAG). He is currently serving a 66-year sentence at the Washington Corrections Center in Shelton, WA. Reach him with questions for “On the Fence Line” via Securus (WA #354579) or write to him at Felix Sitthivong #354579, PO BOX 900, Shelton, WA 98584.
