Abstract
Rationale:
In the era of the #MeToo movement, sexual assault has emerged from the shadows to become a dominant topic of public and scholarly conversation. Yet women in prison have largely been left out of these conversations, particularly as it relates to their experiences of being strip searched.
Method:
Five cisgender women were interviewed about their experiences being strip searched while imprisoned in Canada.
Findings:
Findings demonstrate that strip searching is a form of sexual assault. Women were unable to say “no” to being strip searched due to power imbalances and fear of serious consequences. Experiences of prior sexual victimization made being strip searched particularly harmful.
Discussion:
This study shows that structural violence occurring behind prison walls is a replication of structural violence occurring in the community. That strip-searching policies and practices are developed and implemented by the state necessarily means it is state-inflicted sexual assault. I theorize that strip searching is not understood as sexual assault because imprisoned women are relegated to a class of subhumanness for which humane treatment is not required.
Implications:
Implications for reducing the harms of strip searching are discussed, aimed at moving toward the abolishment of strip searching as a practice in women’s prisons.
In the era of the #MeToo movement, sexual assault has emerged from the shadows to become a dominant topic of public and scholarly conversation. Much of this discussion has focused on what constitutes sexual assault, and how women have been impacted by it, by foregrounding women’s experiences of sexual violation. While this has been a long-awaited culture shift, there are some women who have not received adequate attention as part of this movement. Women in prison have largely been left out of the #MeToo conversation, which is problematic given that they are more likely than women in the general population to have experienced sexual abuse and assault as children and as adults (Aday, Dye, & Kaiser, 2014; Bodkin et al., 2019; Heney & Kristiansen, 1998). Furthermore, there are certain practices that have escaped closer examination for the potential harms they may be inflicting on women. Women in prison are regularly and routinely subjected to a practice that forces them to remove their clothes and perform humiliating actions with intimate parts of their bodies; this is known as the practice of strip searching.
Given the majority of imprisoned women have been sexually assaulted/abused as either children and/or adults (Blanchette & Taylor, 2009; Bloom, 2015; Bodkin et al., 2019; Heney & Kristansen, 1998; Pereira, 2001; Pollack, 2012), along with evidence to suggest that being strip searched can be particularly traumatic for women who have been experienced sexual violence prior to becoming incarcerated (Bloom, 2015; Davis, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pereira, 2001; R v. Golden, 2001; VanNatta, 2010), it is concerning that strip searching remains a regular practice in women’s prisons in Canada (and beyond) and that little attention has been given to its critique. As O’Brien and Ortega (2015) point out, people in prison, and the harmful practices they are routinely subjected to, are often invisible to the general public due partly to the lack of critical interrogation of the necessity of punishment. This lack of public and scholarly engagement with the strip searching of women in prison can be explained, in part, by the elision of imprisoned women from mainstream anti-violence movements.
Anti-carceral feminists remind us that to effectively draw attention to the violence and harms women in prison experience while behind bars “requires identifying the continuum between social inequalities and broader forms of injustice, violence and harm within the community to the prison in order to ground and assist social change and dismantling” (Carlton, 2018, p. 296). The focus on women, specifically cisgender women, acknowledges that, as a group, women prisoners have histories and experiences, particularly of violent victimization, that are unique to their social positioning in a settler colonial, capitalist, and patriarchal society (Comack, 2018). By connecting the often-hidden experiences of women in prison to broader social movements, such as #MeToo, we can more fully understand the nature and scope of sexual assault, which can help to bolster efforts toward its eradication. Furthermore, by applying an anti-carceral feminist lens to the role the state plays in the infliction of sexual harm on women, we can more effectively interrogate and critique routine prison practices, such as strip searching, and challenge their ubiquitous use. Given social workers’ core responsibilities include challenging injustices and advocating for policy and structural changes to alleviate harm and oppressions experienced by vulnerable groups (International Federation of Social Workers, 2019), social workers play a critical role in questioning the foundational assumptions of the prison system (O’Brien & Ortega, 2015) in order to eliminate the harms women in prison experience at the hands of the state.
While there is much anecdotal and conceptual evidence that strip searching is sexual assault (Davis, 2003; Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009), empirical research is needed to confirm this assertion. Therefore, the purpose of this article is to report findings from qualitative interviews conducted with five formerly incarcerated women to provide empirical evidence that strip searching is sexual assault. It also seeks to theoretically explore how forcing a woman to remove her clothes under threat of consequence is not understood as a form of sexual assault.
I will accomplish these objectives by first providing a review of the literature on strip searching and sexual assault. I will then describe the methods utilized to gather data from formerly imprisoned women about their experiences being strip searched. Then, I will provide a critical analysis of the data and theorize why strip searching is not deemed as sexual assault by the state. I will also discuss the implications, including practice and policy recommendations, ending with a call for the abolition of strip searching as a practice in women’s prisons.
Literature Review
Strip Searching
The who, what, why, and when
The first routine practice of strip-searching women in prison can be traced back to Northern Ireland over three decades ago (McCulloch & George, 2009). Since that time, many prisons in Western countries, including Canada (Government of Canada, 1992), have incorporated strip searching into their standard policies and practices. While the specific procedures of strip searching may differ slightly from country to country and prison to prison, in general, strip searching involves “the removal or rearrangement of some or all of the clothing of a person so as to permit a visual inspection of a person’s private areas, namely genitals, buttocks, breasts or undergarments” (United Nations [UN] General Assembly, 2010, p. 32). The stated purpose of strip searching is to prevent contraband, such as weapons or drugs, from entering the prison (UN General Assembly, 2010). Until 2010, there were no international standards for conducting strip searches on women prisoners, although some countries (e.g., Government of Canada, 1992), had begun to recognize that strip-searching women required different considerations than men. The UN-adopted Bangkok Rules provide a set of guidelines concerning the treatment of incarcerated women, including the use of strip searching. While the Rules are not enforceable, member states of the UN are to follow these agreed-upon standards. The Bangkok Rules stipulate that Women should only ever be strip searched by women guards; strip searches should only be carried out if absolutely necessary; strip searches should never be used on a routine basis; no prisoner—regardless of gender—should be humiliated during a strip search; no prisoner should be required to strip completely during a search; special sensitivity should be demonstrated during strip searching because women are likely to feel the humiliation of undergoing intimate searches; and the experience of strip searching may be extremely distressing and traumatizing if they have been victims of sexual abuse in the past. (UN General Assembly, 2010, p. 32)
The research
A small amount of research has been conducted on strip searching through projects focused on conditions of confinement in women’s prisons (e.g., Scraton & Moore, 2007). While exploring women’s experiences of being incarcerated in a Northern Ireland women’s prison, Scraton and Moore (2007) found that women likened being strip searched to sexual assault. This dearth of research is partly because strip searches have become a routine and accepted part of the carceral experience, buoyed by the dominant narrative that strip searches keep prisons, and society, safe. However, evidence suggests that strip searching results in very little seizure of contraband (Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009). For example, in an Australian prison for women with a daily average of 200 prisoners, over a 1-year period, 18,889 strip searches were performed and only 1 item of contraband was found (McCulloch & George, 2009).
Moreover, activists and scholars have argued that, in a context that falls outside of the bounds of state power, the forced removal of clothing would be considered sexual assault (Davis, 2003; Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pereira, 2001; VanNatta, 2010). For example, former prisoner, scholar, and activist Angela Davis (2003) suggests that “sexual abuse is surreptitiously incorporated into one of the most habitual aspects of women’s imprisonment, the strip search” (p. 81). Davis (2003) furthers this assertion by reporting that when prison guards, who performed strip searches as part of their job, watched an unexpected live strip search enacted at a conference in Australia, many of them broke down in tears as they “realized that without the uniform, without the power of the state, [the strip search] would be sexual assault” (p. 82). Strip searches reinforce the power imbalance between staff and prisoners, and some argue, sexual coercion is inherent in strip searches as the regular requirements for consent are abandoned (McCulloch & George, 2009; VanNatta, 2010; Women in Prison Advocacy Network, 2015). Moreover, women cannot actively resist or refuse a strip search, as to do so can result in institutional charges, loss of privileges, and, in some circumstances, the use of physical force (Sapers, 2013; Women in Prison Advocacy Network, 2015).
One of the most infamous cases of strip searching occurred in Canada in 1994 when women prisoners were strip searched by male guards in riot gear, the video of which was released to the public (Arbour, 1996). An inquiry into these events found that the strip searches were “cruel, inhumane, and degrading” (Arbour, 1996). Several years later, the Supreme Court of Canada deemed that strip searches are “inherently humiliating and degrading” (R v. Golden, 2001). The Supreme Court also indicated that women can experience being strip searched as sexual assault and should not be used as routine practice. While this particular legal decision was with respect to strip searches conducted by police officers, it is reasonable to suggest that strip searches conducted by prison guards on women prisoners inflict the same harms. Furthermore, the ombudsman for federal prisoners in Canada has noted that women’s resistance to being strip searched is “predictable and understandable…most of these women have reported histories of physical and/or sexual assault” (Sapers, 2013, p. 20).
Indeed, 68% of federally sentenced women in Canada have been sexually abused prior to imprisonment (Sapers, 2015). Given that strip searches may have a particularly traumatic impact on those who have been sexually assaulted in the past (Aday et al., 2014; Bloom, 2015; Davis, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pereira, 2001; VanNatta, 2010) and that they are inherently humiliating and degrading (Arbour, 1996; R v. Golden, 2001), the question remains how forcing women to remove their clothes under threat of (serious) consequence is socially (and legally) acceptable.
Sexual Assault
There are many definitions of what constitutes sexual assault, and researchers conceptualize sexual assault differently across studies. From a public health perspective, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC, 2018) define sexual assault as an “unwanted sexual experience” for which consent is not freely given and can involve situations where physical contact does not occur, including forced nudity. From a legal perspective, Canada has a broad definition of sexual assault, which includes the requirement that both parties must agree (i.e., consent) to the sexual activity taking place (Government of Canada, 1985). Moreover, sexual assault has been described as being motivated by power not sexual pleasure (Sheehy, 2012), and the power differential between the perpetrator and victim is one of its defining features (Heney & Kristiansen, 1998).
Sexual trauma can be a one-time event, which can occur anywhere, or it can be prolonged, over a period of time, which only occurs when people are in captivity (Herman, 1997). Conditions of captivity clearly exist in the form of prisons, but they also exist throughout women’s and girls’ lives, often in their community, family, and intimate relationships. Merely by existing in a patriarchal society, girls and women are held captive by the ever-present threat of sexual violence. Women in prison are more likely than those in the general public to experience childhood sexual abuse (Bodkin et al., 2019), which is often incestuous, violent, extended over a long period of time, and with multiple perpetrators (Canadian Association of Elizabeth Fry Societies, 2010). These women are then often revictimized at the hands of their male intimate partners as adults (Girshick, 2003; Herman, 1997), creating continuous conditions of captivity across time and space. One of the most damaging aspects of childhood sexual trauma is the unpredictability and arbitrary enforcement of rules (Herman, 1997). Furthermore, the trauma of sexual violence has been described as having lifelong consequences and survivors of childhood and adult sexual violence may be affected in multiple ways including the development of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), fear of people in positions of authority, and feelings of shame, humiliation, degradation, and low self-worth (Aday et al., 2014; Girshick, 2003; Herman, 1997). This continuum of captivity, throughout childhood to adulthood and from community to prison, is important to understand from an anti-carceral feminist perspective, specifically as it relates to experiences of sexual trauma.
A review of the literature on sexual assault in prisons reveals that the majority of the research is quantitative, focuses on men, examines prisoner-on-prisoner sexual assault, and does not include strip searches as a form of sexual assault (Alarid, 2000; Blackburn, Mullings, & Marquart, 2008; Hensley, Castle, & Tewksbury, 2003; Wolff, Blitz, Shi, Bachman, & Siegel, 2006). Furthermore, while there are many conceptualizations of what constitutes sexual assault, it is important to note that Concentrating on prisoners only [as causing the harm] and focusing solely on sexual assault as defined by law is to ignore key forms of sexual violation and coercion perpetrated in carceral facilities, as well as to disregard the sexual coercion that is inherent in incarceration itself. (VanNatta, 2010, p. 31)
Purpose of Study
While there is a small amount of research exploring strip searching as part of larger projects focused on conditions of confinement (Scraton & Moore, 2007) and considerable anecdotal speculation that women experience being strip searched as sexual assault (Davis, 2003; George, 1993; Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pereira, 2001; VanNatta, 2010), there is a dearth of empirical research focused specifically on the use of strip-searching women in prison. Therefore, the purpose of this article is 2-fold: (1) to report on a small qualitative study that provides evidence that strip searching women prisoners is a form of sexual assault and (2) to critically examine reasons for why forcing a woman prisoner to remove her clothes under threat of consequence is not understood as sexual assault. This will be accomplished through the use of primary data gathered through in-depth individual interviews with five cisgender women who have experienced being strip searched in prison, coupled with scholarly literature.
Method
Qualitative Interviews
Following the tradition of feminist scholars whose research intentionally incorporates women’s firsthand accounts of imprisonment (e.g., Pollack, 2009, 2016), I interviewed five formerly incarcerated women about their experiences of being strip searched. It is important to center the voices of women who have experienced being strip searched in prison as the dominant patriarchal societal and correctional discourses marginalize and suppress women’s voices (Kilty, 2014). Feminist epistemologies stress the situatedness of knowledges (Intemann, 2010); thus, by foregrounding women’s lived experiences while imprisoned, the hegemony of the dominant discourses can be challenged (Swigonski, 1993).
The women were recruited via convenience sampling through my professional/academic relationships and at a local restorative justice conference through word of mouth. Trust of three of the women had previously been established through my professional roles as an educator and advocate for imprisoned women over the past decade. The other two women had approached me at the conference to indicate they would like to participate after learning that I was conducting this study. In order to further develop rapport and trust with the women, I maintained contact with them prior to the interviews via phone and e-mail to ensure they were fully aware of the research topic and to discuss with them any concerns they had (Brzuzy, Ault, & Segal, 1997). The women were told at several points along the recruitment and interview process that participation was voluntary, confidential, and focused exclusively on strip searching. Women provided informed consent before starting the interview and interviews took place in a location of the woman’s choosing, all of which were in quiet, private locations, which increased their comfort level (Creswell, 2015). Given the sensitive nature of the topic, I began the interviews by asking women to tell me about themselves, which allowed the conversation to emerge slowly and naturally (Jacob & Furgerson, 2012).
I explored two broad questions: (1) Can you please share with me your experiences of being strip searched while you were incarcerated? and (2) Can you share with me the ways in which you dealt with being strip searched? I asked probing questions when additional detail was needed, such as how many times they had been strip searched. Contact information for a local mental health crisis agency was provided in case support was needed following the interview. I gave each participant a small token of appreciation, and an indigenous participant was given ceremonial tobacco. The interviews were audio-recorded and lasted between 30 and 70 min. Ethics approval was obtained through an institutional research ethics board prior to recruiting participants.
Participants
Five cisgender women who have served time in one or more provincial jails, as well as in federal prison, participated in the research. Four identified as white and one as indigenous, and they ranged in age from 30 to 60 years. All women chose their own pseudonyms that are used below.
Analysis
The interviews were audio-recorded with permission, and I transcribed each recording and individually analyzed the data utilizing the process described by Thomas (2006). I first prepared the raw data files in a common format and uploaded them into the secure qualitative data analysis web application Dedoose and printed a hard copy. Next, I read each hard copy of each transcript to become familiar with its content and had a solid understanding of what was covered in the text. While I conducted this line-by-line reading, I created initial codes in the margin, which resulted in dozens of codes. I then read through the interviews again, this time in Dedoose, and began to create themes based on the initial codes. These emerging themes were arranged in Dedoose, and the text that corresponded with the category was placed into the theme. Some text was placed under multiple themes and was further refined following another round of analysis that combined similar themes. Quotations were selected for each theme, resulting in a smaller number of overarching themes. Data that supported each theme were checked back against the transcripts in order to ensure the context was captured correctly, and my interpretation of the quote was correct.
To foster analytic trustworthiness (Creswell, 2014), I engaged in several strategies. Member checking was conducted with four of the five participants (one was re-incarcerated, so I was unable to provide her with the findings). They each received an individualized copy, with their quotations highlighted. All women indicated, in writing, that they felt their quotes had been used appropriately and were happy with the way the report captured their experiences. I also engaged in peer debriefing with several colleagues who asked me critical questions and provided feedback on emerging themes.
Findings
This article reports on three themes that emerged from the data. For information about other findings, see Hutchison (2019). The themes include (1) “Sexual abuse is when you don’t have the choice to say no,” (2) “There’s nothing I could do about it and if I did, I would get a charge,” and (3) “Every time, it felt like the same experience.” These themes will be described more fully below.
“Sexual Abuse Is When You Don’t Have the Choice to Say No”
The findings demonstrate that women’s experiences of being strip searched are consistent with experiences of being sexual assaulted. This was true for those who had been sexually violated prior to imprisonment as well as those who had not. Michelle, who had not experienced sexual abuse prior to being imprisoned as either a child or an adult, stated, “there are women that are sexually abused and how awful is that for them? I wasn’t sexually abused and it was awful for me. I can’t even imagine what it feels like for them.” She went on to explain that the process of being strip searched was often unpredictable and arbitrary, And there would be two female officers and they would both be watching you. You would have to take off everything and hand them your clothing for them to check. Then you have to bend over and cough or squat. It depended on the officer. A lot of times it was squat and cough, sometimes it would be bend over and touch your toes so that they could get a better look.
Anna, who had been sexually abused as a child, stated that being strip searched was similar to sexual abuse in that “sexual abuse is when you don’t have the choice to say no.” Trish expressed how being strip searched amplified feelings associated with past traumas, stating, “and it’s very uncomfortable, especially being through a traumatic experience where you’ve been raped or forcibly confined. It [being strip searched] makes that worse.” Similarly, Jackie, who had spent the most amount of time in prison, said, “most of these women have been brutally victimized by someone you know? They suffered trauma back in the day, so to put them under the scrutiny of strip searches is barbaric.”
Erika, whose sexual abuse began when she was a child and continued into her teenage years and adulthood, recounted how being strip searched brought back memories of being sexually violated before coming to prison, You’re violated to no end. And it’s just very uncomfortable. It’s not normal, you know? It’s not a normal way to be. Because, especially for someone like me [who has been sexually abused since childhood], and probably so many other people that were incarcerated, it’s just putting you back to whatever happened before. Like my very first experience [being strip searched] I thought about everybody that ever hurt me and then it continued, and it didn’t get easier at all. Because it’s just a constant thing. I would say that having experienced childhood sexual abuse I learned quite young to just block things out, like this isn’t happening to me. I’m going through the motions, but this isn’t happening. I can take my brain over here so I’m participating but not really here.
“There’s Nothing I Could Do About It and If I Did, I Would Get a Charge”
The women in this study spoke about not being able to say “no” to being strip searched. What they meant by this was an inability to freely give or refuse consent to removing their clothes and performing actions with intimate parts of their bodies. They explained that the inability to say no was because of the power imbalances between prisoners and guards as well as for fear of very real and significant consequences, as discussed below.
The experiences the women shared clearly demonstrated that they were in a subordinate, less powerful position than the guards who performed strip searches on them. Because of this power imbalance, the women described not being able to say “no” to being strip searched. As Michelle stated, You do it as quickly as possible to get it over with and just do what they’re telling you to do. There’s a sense of fear because it’s a person of authority…so you just have to do what you’re told. I was like no, I am not doing this again. [A guard said], “Well, you’re going to do it or else we’re gonna make you do it.” And then they told some of the other guards, “we’ve got a little princess down here who doesn’t want to do anything.” So then other guards would come down and say, “take off your clothes now.” And so you have these authority figures telling you to do all this and it’s like you don’t know what to do. Well, you gotta do it.
Intricately linked to power imbalances is, as the women in this study expressed, the fear of being punished for resisting being strip searched. Negative consequences are possible given the power structure inherent in prisons—prison authorities can mete out punishment to prisoners for a vast range of reasons—including refusing to be strip searched. For example, Erika shared that she was forced to go to an internal prison disciplinary court and was fined $25 for saying no to a strip search. Some women witnessed others being subjected to treatment that they did not want to experience. After describing a traumatic situation where she saw another woman, who did not speak English and was confused about what was happening, have her clothes physically removed by guards, Anna stated, No, I’ve never said no. That experience with the other woman and all the guards forcing her clothes off happened early on into my incarceration so I recognized right away that I do not want that to happen to me so I’m just going to comply. There’s nothing I could do about it and if I did, I would get a charge. If you fought them and you refused to do it [be strip searched] you would not be going on work release, you would not be going on ETAs, you would not be having those family visits. So, you know what? In order to have a visit with your family you’ve got to suck it up and show your naked ass.
“Every Time, It Felt Like the Same Experience”
All of the women were subjected to being strip searched a significant number of times. When asked how many times she believed she had been strip searched, Anna said, “oh my gosh…close to 200 times.” Similarly, Erika stated, “probably close to 400 times,” and Michelle, who served the least amount of time in prison, said, “hundreds. Easily.” Some also shared they had been strip searched multiple times in 1 day. For example, when reflecting on being strip searched twice in 1 day, Michelle lamented, “it was a double whammy that day.”
When asked if it got easier over time, Trish declared, “no. Not even remotely,” and Michelle stated, No, it makes you angry. It makes you angry each time and I know when I got to the end, I was counting down how many I had left and I would say to them each time, I would say only this many more times, only this many more times and then you guys can’t do this to me anymore. Every time, it felt like the same experience. It was a trigger. It was emotionally degrading. Like I said, my first initial comment on the strip search is that I am raped and I am violated and I am triggered to no end.
Discussion
These findings provide evidence that the forced removal of clothing via strip searching is a form of sexual assault. The women clearly articulated that they were unable to refuse a strip search given their subordinate position in the prison hierarchy as well as the serious consequences for doing so. The women also expressed how past sexual victimization amplified the harms of being strip searched, that being strip searched triggered their memories of being assaulted in the past, and that it didn’t get easier over time. In this section, I will connect the findings from the study to the literature and critically explore reasons why forcing a woman to remove her clothes under threat of consequence is not understood as sexual assault.
Strip Searching as State-Inflicted Sexual Assault
Consistent with previous research (Scraton & Moore, 2007) and anecdotal and conceptual literature (Davis, 2003; Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pereira, 2001; VanNatta, 2010), this study provides evidence that strip searching is a form of sexual assault. The women described being unable to refuse being strip searched because of power imbalances and for fear of negative consequences, which aligns with the argument that the regular requirements of consent are abandoned when performing strip searches in prison (VanNatta, 2010). Furthermore, sexual assault has been described as being motivated by power, not sexual pleasure (Sheehy, 2012); therefore, it follows that if positions of power are being used to force women to remove their clothes and perform acts with body parts that are considered sexual (CDC, 2018), as was described in this study, sexual assault is taking place. Additionally, consent cannot be obtained from people who are incapable of providing it nor can it be obtained as a result of someone abusing a position of trust, power, or authority (Government of Canada, 1985). It can be argued that people in prison are incapable of providing consent given the unequal power dynamics inherent in the prison system and that the “consent” obtained to perform strip searches is acquired under threat of consequence, which is an abuse of power and authority.
Moreover, the forced removal of clothing and obligatory exposure of body parts considered to be sexual (e.g., buttocks, anus, breasts, vagina) can be an unwanted sexual experience (CDC, 2018). That this practice is developed and implemented by agencies of the state (e.g., the Correctional Service of Canada) necessarily means the unwanted sexual experience is committed by the state. Therefore, extending the argument that strip searching is state-sanctioned sexual assault (Davis, 2003; Kilroy, 2003; McCulloch & George, 2009), I contend that it is not only sanctioned but is actually inflicted by the state. To define the assault as being “state sanctioned” suggests that the state is merely giving permission to individual guards to perform strip searches; however, the state is responsible for developing policies, mandating practices, and enforcing the use of strip searching. As McCulloch and George (2009) argue, The failure to perceive routine practices of strip searches within prison as sexual coercion and institutionalised violence fits with a broader tendency to see crime and violence as residing almost exclusively within the realm of individuals as opposed to the state and its agents. (p. 109)
By situating the source of the harm within the state, it allows us to connect the structural violence occurring behind prison walls to structural violence occurring in the community, which is foundational to anti-carceral feminist movements (Carlton, 2018). The recognition that women’s bodies are controlled and violated by the state, while under its jurisdiction, highlights the continuum of violence women and girls experience throughout their lifetimes and furthers the assertion that prisons are sites of trauma (Pollack & Eldridge, 2015). Similar to prolonged sexual abuse, imprisoned women’s repeated and prolonged contact with the state (i.e., the perpetrator) results in coercive control (Herman, 1997). This control is established through the “systematic, repetitive infliction of psychological trauma,” including the scrutiny and control of the person’s body (Herman, 1997, p. 77). Forcing women to strip naked and perform acts with intimate parts of their bodies “symbolizes complete subjection of the prisoner’s body to the vigilant eye of the state” (Lawston, 2008, p. 8).
The prison system is a microcosm of society in which “condensed and concentrated forms of oppression that originated in the historical and contemporary processes of social, racial, economic and political injustice” occur (Lawston, 2008, p. 7). Imprisoned women, who are oppressed in myriad ways prior to imprisonment and as a result of their imprisonment, not only experience overt violations, such as being strip searched, but they are also subject to “insidious traumatization involved in living in [their] everyday lives in a sexist, classist, racist, ableist, and homophobic society” (Burstow, 2003, p. 1308). Recognizing both the overt and insidious ways in which imprisoned women are harmed will bolster efforts in “challenging and transforming the continuum of structural violence and injustice spanning from prison to the community” (Carlton, 2018, p. 284).
Strip Searching and Previous Sexual Abuse
As this study shows, experiences of being strip searched are consistent with experiences of being sexually assaulted. This was true for those who had been sexually violated prior to imprisonment as well as those who had not been. For women who had been sexually abused in the past, the effects of being strip searched were amplified. Several women in this study shared that they had been sexually abused in childhood, which is consistent with the research on women in prison (Blanchette & Taylor, 2009; Bloom, 2015; Bodkin et al., 2019; Heney & Kristiansen, 1998). The women reflected on the fact that strip searching is similar to childhood sexual abuse in that they did not have the option to say no in either situation. They also spoke about the power differentials and fear of negative consequences for trying to refuse. This suggests that the strip searching of women prisoners mimics the dynamics of childhood sexual abuse, a finding that is consistent with the literature suggesting that prison practices are a replication of past experiences of abuse and violence (Heney & Kristiansen, 1998; McCulloch & George, 2009; Pollack, 2007; VanNatta, 2010). The same feelings of humiliation and degradation emerge from being strip searched as they did when they were experiencing abuse as a child by an authority figure (Girshick, 2003). Moreover, for women prisoners who have been sexually abused previously, “the social relations in the present contain the same power dynamic as those in the past that culminated in the [abuse]” (Burstow, 2003). This power differential between the powerful and powerless is the most fundamental dynamic of both childhood sexual abuse and incarceration (Heney & Kristiansen, 1998).
Additionally, women in this study described using coping mechanisms during strip searches that they had developed to deal with being sexually abused as children. This aligns with the literature that when survivors of childhood sexual abuse are subjected to a situation that mimics prior abuse, it reactivates the coping mechanisms learned during the abuse (Pollack, 2007). For example, findings indicate that women utilized tactics that resulted in them feeling as though they were not mentally or psychologically present during the strip search, which is consistent with mechanisms developed during childhood abuse (Herman, 1997; Pollack, 2007). The findings also suggest that in order for the women to resist the harms associated with being strip searched, they evoked previous schemas learned during childhood abuse (Lubin & Johnson, 2008).
These findings raise questions about how women are expected to effectively return to the community upon release from prison as they have learned that their “image of [their] body must include a body that can be controlled and violated” (Herman, 1997, p. 93). Strip searching reinforces the message that women’s bodies are not their own and that they are to be controlled by others, which can result in the extension of the continuum of captivity and coercive control that women experience throughout their lives. Women in this study also expressed that being strip searched made them angry but were unable to express this anger during their imprisonment for, as to do so would compromise their release from prison (via parole). This is consistent with research suggesting that even after release from captivity, women’s anger toward her captor (i.e., the state) continues and can manifest in depression, the prevention of restoration of relationships, and rage and hatred toward herself in the form of self-harm and suicidality (Herman, 1997).
One question that remains is why the strip searching of women prisoners, which involves forcing women to remove their clothes under threat of consequence and perform acts with parts of their bodies considered sexual, is not understood as sexual assault. One possible explanation is that women prisoners are not seen as fully human, thus placing them outside of the law and humane treatment. This will be explored in the following section.
Dehumanization
Imprisoned women, the majority of whom are poor, racialized, and/or indigenous, are relegated to a class of subhumanness for which humane treatment is not required. With the women describing being strip searched hundreds of times each, and experiencing being strip searched as harmful, it can be argued that strip searching is routinized violence. That this type of routine practice occurs, despite the harms associated with it, suggests that there is a “capacity and willingness to engage in a routinized, indifferent violence that risks increasingly positioning specific kinds of groups as disposable waste or less than fully human” (Brown, 2009, p. 34). Applying this argument to a group comprised of poor, racialized, indigenous, and criminalized women, it follows that the state’s willingness to implement this violent practice renders women prisoners not fully human. Forcing women in prison to strip naked and perform acts with body parts considered sexual is not understood as sexual assault as “violence can be directed with impunity at those outside the domain of justice” (Razack, 2015, p. 61). As MacKinnon (2006) argues, “in circular epistemic fashion, seeing what subordinated groups are distinctively deprived of, subjected to, and delegitimated by, requires first that they be real to power: that they first be seen as human” (p. 3). Imprisoned women are not seen as human; therefore, they are not seen as being subjected to harm.
Dehumanization is “the act of denying humans their human nature and treating them like objects…It involves denying to other people essential elements of ‘humanness’—qualities that set humans apart from objects or animals” (Lammers & Stapel, 2011, p. 113). These qualities can include agency, self-determination, choice, sensitivity to pain, emotion, among others. Importantly, particularly in a prison setting, research has shown that an increased position of power results in the increased dehumanization of those whom one has power over (Lammers & Stapel, 2011). This dehumanization helps to downplay the pain and suffering caused by the decisions of those in power and works to justify their decisions. Further, Dehumanization is functional. Without the ability to dehumanize, people would see their victims as humans like themselves with similar qualities as themselves (sensitivity to pain, own will, agency, etc.). As a result, they would experience feelings of empathy and compassion if they were to abuse these people or otherwise cause pain and suffering. (Lammers & Stapel, 2011, p. 114)
Implications
Compelling women to remove their clothes and perform actions with intimate parts of their bodies through the use of power and under threat of consequence is state-inflicted sexual assault. Consistent with anti-carceral feminist approaches, by adding women prisoners’ voices and knowledges to the scholarly and general conversations about the use of strip searching in women’s prisons, this article seeks to contribute to the “reshaping of institutional and public attitudes regarding the injustices and discriminatory harms associated with women’s criminalisation and imprisonment” (Carlton, 2018, p. 297). Thinking about strip searching as sexual assault may help to shift the way we think about women prisoners and the routine practices inflicted upon them by the state, which will allow these practices to be challenged more readily. Furthermore, strip searching has yet to be taken up by mainstream movements, such as #MeToo, and the incorporation of imprisoned women’s experiences of being sexually assaulted by the state will provide a more fulsome picture of the nature and scope of sexual assault and can contribute to its eradication.
Social workers play a significant role in this in that they have an ethical responsibility to actively challenge and work toward dismantling the prison system as it perpetuates violence and oppressions that women have experienced throughout their lives (Willison & O’Brien, 2017). A critical interrogation of policies and practices in women’s prisons will enable a deeper understanding of the ways the state routinely harms women, so that targeted strategies can be employed to end state-inflicted violence against women.
Researchers studying sexual assault in prisons should broaden their conceptualization of what constitutes sexual assault in order to capture all experiences of sexual violation. Specifically, strip searching should be incorporated in the definition of sexual assault in prison. Research exploring how women experience being strip searched is necessary to effectively draw connections between women’s experiences of sexual victimization at the hands of men during childhood and adulthood and at the hands of the state during their imprisonment. This will contribute to the eradication of sexual violence experienced by women in and out of prison.
Similarly, from a practice perspective, social workers and feminist sexual assault support centers play an important role in providing support for women who have experienced being strip searched. By broadening the conceptualization of sexual assault to include being strip searched, these services can provide more holistic support to women. However, as prisons are based on power, coercion, and control and are not conducive to therapeutic programming (Pollack & Brezina, 2007; van Wormer, 2010), alternative supports, such as peer support groups, should be considered. The theoretical premises of peer support groups acknowledge that women’s experiences are largely shaped by prison violence and oppression (Pollack, 2004), and, as such, the impacts of strip searching may be better addressed by prisoners themselves rather than those who are accountable to the state, which is the source of the harm.
Furthermore, this article extends beyond a microlevel analysis of being strip searched into the macro, sociopolitical circumstances of women’s lives, which is consistent with feminist approaches (Kilty, 2014; Tseris, 2013). However, given the findings that women utilized coping mechanisms that can be associated with PTSD, such as dissociation and avoidance of sensory stimuli that remind them of their past trauma (Herman, 1997), future studies could examine the ways in which women experience being strip searched through a PTSD lens. As many women experience sexual abuse without ever meeting the clinical criteria for PTSD (Chivers-Wilson, 2006), it would be insightful, from a research and clinical perspective, to understand how being strip searched, in and of itself, relates to concepts related to PTSD.
To my knowledge, there has not been empirical research exploring the role of dehumanization in the justification of strip searching, and further research is warranted in this area. Research with guards who perform strip searches could prove to be informative as they would be able to provide insider understanding of how they are able to justify forcing a woman to remove her clothes and perform humiliating acts with body parts.
Until strip searching is abolished as a practice, women in prison will continue to be sexually assaulted by the state. While the Bangkok Rules provide a starting point for reducing the harms to women through strip searching, they do not eliminate the harms. Thus, the abolition of the use of strip searching in women’s prisons is necessary. Taking it a step further, the state should not be utilized to respond to social harms as the state perpetuates these same harms through their policies and practices. The continuum of structural violence that begins in childhood and continues into adulthood, and transverses from the community to prison, can only be eradicated through the dismantling of these institutions.
Limitations
While this study was small in sample size, the women provided rich insights into the practice of strip searching, which has contributed to our understanding of it as sexual assault. Due to the time constraints for this research, recruitment of participants from a variety of social locations was not possible. Given that women in prison represent multiple intersecting marginal identities, future research should focus on gathering insights and knowledges from women with different positionalities and experiences, particularly indigenous women and women of color. From an anti-racist and anti-colonial perspective, black women and indigenous women have the legacy of slavery and colonialism behind them, perhaps making strip searching racialized violence in addition to gendered violence, which merits further exploration. As the interviews with women were not focused on exploring why strip searching is not understood as sexual assault, more research is need in order to elucidate this.
Conclusion
This article attempted to provide evidence that strip-searching women prisoners is a form of state-inflicted sexual assault. It also interrogated some of the reasons why the forced removal of clothing under threat of consequence is not understood as sexual assault. I hope that by bringing to light women’s experiences of being strip searched, and demonstrating the harm that is being done, more critical dialogue and action can take place, ultimately with the abolishment of strip searching as a practice in women’s prisons. I can think of no better way to end this article than with this insightful comment from Erika, “they [prison administration] talk and they go off about rehabilitation. Well what is it? You people, the ones who are supposed to be rehabilitating us, are sitting here violating us.”
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
