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The grim truth of being gay in prison
The grim truth of being gay in prison | Prisons and probation | The Guardian
It turns out that last week was not the first time that John Travolta has allegedly introduced himself to a male stranger , at the gym, where they were alone, together, at three in the morning. A commenter points out that the original Reddit thread contains a few other stories detailing Travolta's late night gym escapades. Let's start with the most benign of the two tales. Reddit user deweyredman wrote in the thread that he too was approached by Travolta, at the gym, where they were alone, together: "Happened to me too a while back The next story is considerably more steamy. Reddit user Myklanjilo writes of an alleged memorable late night encounter with Travolta in the locker room of a hour gym from 14 years ago emphasis mine.
The final cut
I n , when Calvin Burdine was awaiting sentencing for allegedly stabbing his gay lover to death, the prosecuting attorney encouraged the jury in his closing remarks to award Burdine the death penalty, rather than life in prison, on the grounds that sending a gay man to prison was akin to sending a kid to a candy store. After 17 minutes of deliberation, the jury obliged and sentenced Burdine to die. His death sentence was later overturned mostly because Burdine's public defender had slept through much of his trial , but the homophobic thinking — that prison is some kind of paradise for gay men — lingers on. The reality of life in prison for homosexuals and transgender individuals does not appear to reflect this myth. One young man named Rodney, imprisoned for fraud and check-forging, sent me a detailed account of his life so far in prison.
I was 19 when I first had full-on sex with another man. I was at college, living in dorms, and the experience—aside from the usual horrifying awkwardness and somewhat spontaneity of the occasion—was completely and utterly unremarkable aside from one thing: the guy I slept with identified as straight. It was late or early, depending on your outlook on the world when I was joined by the boy who was living in the room next to mine, way back on the other side of the building. He was clearly intoxicated, but it was a party after all and who was I, quite drunk myself, to judge. The minutiae of exactly how things developed from us being together in that room to us having slightly unsuccessful sex in a bathroom in a different corridor have since escaped me.