"The Right to Privacy" by Ellen Alderman and Caroline Kennedy (book excerpt)
Posted: Sun May 10, 2020 5:17 pm
This is a real life event. Not a fictional story. This was jail lockup policy for all females jailed in Chicago, Illinois (USA), even for minor traffic violations, between the years 1952 and 1997. Men detained for similar violations were pat-searched. - Searchem
Here is an excerpt from the book
"The Right to Privacy"
by Ellen Alderman and Caroline Kennedy.
Joan W. remembers exactly what she was wearing on Jan.28, 1978. "I remember very distinctly, because when they made me undress, I had a whole lot of stuff to take off." Joan, age 32, had recently graduated from medical school and moved to Chicago to take a job as an intern at the local VA hospital. On a rare Saturday off, she and her sister were headed to the Art Institute.
Joan dressed warmly for a windy, wintry day, all in her favorite color, purple. She wore panty hose, slacks, a turtleneck, a silk blouse with a tie, a sweater and some inexpensive jewelry. "I was really dolled up, you know, to go looking 'artsy' to the Art Institute."
The two women were nearing the museum when a police officer stopped them. Joan had no idea what she had done wrong. The officer explained that the two - way street they were driving on had turned one - way, something Joan, unfamiliar with the city, had not known. She expected the officer to write her a ticket, but instead he directed her to follow him to the police station. Joan thought that was odd, but dutifully followed along.
At the station, she was informed that she had several outstanding parking tickets. Joan offered to pay the fines, but was told she had to be taken to the women's lock - up across town. She asked if her sister could come along and was told no. Joan asked if she could make a phone call, and was told no. She asked where, specifically, she was being taken, and was told nothing.
"They put me in a paddy wagon -- one of those police wagons they take criminals to jail in." The wagon had a small window with bars, little steel shelves for seats, and nothing to hold onto. This was of particular significance to Joan who, since she was a teenager, had suffered from a form of rheumatoid arthritis affecting her spine, hips, and joints. The ride in the paddy wagon took nearly half an hour, and by the time they reached the police station Joan was hobbling and angry.
Walking with a stiff limp, she followed the officers through a loading dock area and up an elevator to a floor of jail cells. She kept asking where they were going, but got no response.
"They put me in a cell -- a regular jail cell -- and locked it." The cell was cold, gray and empty, except for a toilet with a plywood cover. For a moment, Joan was simply stunned that she was there.
Within minutes, two matrons entered the cell and demanded that Joan take off all of her clothes.
"Excuse me?" Joan responded.
"Take off all your clothes," one of the matrons repeated.
"I'm in here for parking tickets" Joan explained. She assumed there had to be some kind of mix - up or misunderstanding. Several more matrons entered the cell and told Joan, "You better start taking off your clothes now or you're in for big trouble."
Joan continued to protest. She said she had not known it was a one - way street and that she was ready to write a check for the parking tickets. The matrons again ordered her to strip. "They were clearly delighted that I was kind of putting up a fight."
The matrons moved in closer and Joan began to feel afraid. So she started taking articles of clothing off, very slowly, one piece at a time. "I was trying to see what was going to happen. I was very modest.
That is just the way I was. Even back n the sixties, in college, I wouldn't take a shower or get undressed in front of anybody. My mother is kind of Victorian. Actually she is very Victorian. And, well, it was just inconceivable to me that I was going to be in a jail cell taking my clothes off."
Joan removed her shoes, socks, sweater and jewelry, then could go no further. "Look," she said, "I'm a doctor. I don't even do this to my patients! They have sheets and gowns and everything. And I am only here for parking tickets !!"
At the mention of Joan's profession, she says the matrons hooted. They clearly did not believe her and began mocking the "doctor" in their midst.
An older matron approached the cell and Joan thought she had come to stop the harassment. Instead, the woman told her to strip " if you know what's good for you." The four other matrons moved in, forcing Joan to the back of the cell. By now she was extremely frightened. Trembling, she removed her blouse, turtleneck and pantyhose. The matrons told her to keep going. Joan took off her underwear. "And then I just stood there."
"Raise your left breast," one of the matrons ordered. Joan did. "Now raise your right breast." Joan did as she was told. She was no longer protesting. She wasn't saying a word. Then the matrons told Joan to "spread your lips."
"I swear to God," Joan says, "I really wasn't sure what they wanted me to do. I'm more familiar with that kind of language now, but then I didn't know. " Joan opened her mouth. The matrons were yelling now, "spread your lips !" Joan opened her mouth wider. "Your lips, lady, your pussy!"
Finally, Joan understood and she spread the lips of her vagina. The matrons ordered her to squat, which she did. The matrons taunted the "doctor" and told her she was not doing anything right.
"Get the hell up in there and spread it!" they said. Joan was spreading and squatting, all at once, each time they told her to.
"Now turn around and bend over," they ordered. "Spread your cheeks." Joan turned around, bent over, and pulled her buttocks apart so they could look inside.
" I felt like an animal," Joan says. " I felt like I had no control. I felt like I was going through some -- some kid of deportation or kind of a -- I felt like what I thought people I had seen in films of Nazis. I felt like one of those people."
A longer free preview of this book, or links to purchase, can be found at Google Books: https://www.google.com/books/edition/_/ ... =en&gbpv=1
Here is an excerpt from the book
"The Right to Privacy"
by Ellen Alderman and Caroline Kennedy.
Joan W. remembers exactly what she was wearing on Jan.28, 1978. "I remember very distinctly, because when they made me undress, I had a whole lot of stuff to take off." Joan, age 32, had recently graduated from medical school and moved to Chicago to take a job as an intern at the local VA hospital. On a rare Saturday off, she and her sister were headed to the Art Institute.
Joan dressed warmly for a windy, wintry day, all in her favorite color, purple. She wore panty hose, slacks, a turtleneck, a silk blouse with a tie, a sweater and some inexpensive jewelry. "I was really dolled up, you know, to go looking 'artsy' to the Art Institute."
The two women were nearing the museum when a police officer stopped them. Joan had no idea what she had done wrong. The officer explained that the two - way street they were driving on had turned one - way, something Joan, unfamiliar with the city, had not known. She expected the officer to write her a ticket, but instead he directed her to follow him to the police station. Joan thought that was odd, but dutifully followed along.
At the station, she was informed that she had several outstanding parking tickets. Joan offered to pay the fines, but was told she had to be taken to the women's lock - up across town. She asked if her sister could come along and was told no. Joan asked if she could make a phone call, and was told no. She asked where, specifically, she was being taken, and was told nothing.
"They put me in a paddy wagon -- one of those police wagons they take criminals to jail in." The wagon had a small window with bars, little steel shelves for seats, and nothing to hold onto. This was of particular significance to Joan who, since she was a teenager, had suffered from a form of rheumatoid arthritis affecting her spine, hips, and joints. The ride in the paddy wagon took nearly half an hour, and by the time they reached the police station Joan was hobbling and angry.
Walking with a stiff limp, she followed the officers through a loading dock area and up an elevator to a floor of jail cells. She kept asking where they were going, but got no response.
"They put me in a cell -- a regular jail cell -- and locked it." The cell was cold, gray and empty, except for a toilet with a plywood cover. For a moment, Joan was simply stunned that she was there.
Within minutes, two matrons entered the cell and demanded that Joan take off all of her clothes.
"Excuse me?" Joan responded.
"Take off all your clothes," one of the matrons repeated.
"I'm in here for parking tickets" Joan explained. She assumed there had to be some kind of mix - up or misunderstanding. Several more matrons entered the cell and told Joan, "You better start taking off your clothes now or you're in for big trouble."
Joan continued to protest. She said she had not known it was a one - way street and that she was ready to write a check for the parking tickets. The matrons again ordered her to strip. "They were clearly delighted that I was kind of putting up a fight."
The matrons moved in closer and Joan began to feel afraid. So she started taking articles of clothing off, very slowly, one piece at a time. "I was trying to see what was going to happen. I was very modest.
That is just the way I was. Even back n the sixties, in college, I wouldn't take a shower or get undressed in front of anybody. My mother is kind of Victorian. Actually she is very Victorian. And, well, it was just inconceivable to me that I was going to be in a jail cell taking my clothes off."
Joan removed her shoes, socks, sweater and jewelry, then could go no further. "Look," she said, "I'm a doctor. I don't even do this to my patients! They have sheets and gowns and everything. And I am only here for parking tickets !!"
At the mention of Joan's profession, she says the matrons hooted. They clearly did not believe her and began mocking the "doctor" in their midst.
An older matron approached the cell and Joan thought she had come to stop the harassment. Instead, the woman told her to strip " if you know what's good for you." The four other matrons moved in, forcing Joan to the back of the cell. By now she was extremely frightened. Trembling, she removed her blouse, turtleneck and pantyhose. The matrons told her to keep going. Joan took off her underwear. "And then I just stood there."
"Raise your left breast," one of the matrons ordered. Joan did. "Now raise your right breast." Joan did as she was told. She was no longer protesting. She wasn't saying a word. Then the matrons told Joan to "spread your lips."
"I swear to God," Joan says, "I really wasn't sure what they wanted me to do. I'm more familiar with that kind of language now, but then I didn't know. " Joan opened her mouth. The matrons were yelling now, "spread your lips !" Joan opened her mouth wider. "Your lips, lady, your pussy!"
Finally, Joan understood and she spread the lips of her vagina. The matrons ordered her to squat, which she did. The matrons taunted the "doctor" and told her she was not doing anything right.
"Get the hell up in there and spread it!" they said. Joan was spreading and squatting, all at once, each time they told her to.
"Now turn around and bend over," they ordered. "Spread your cheeks." Joan turned around, bent over, and pulled her buttocks apart so they could look inside.
" I felt like an animal," Joan says. " I felt like I had no control. I felt like I was going through some -- some kid of deportation or kind of a -- I felt like what I thought people I had seen in films of Nazis. I felt like one of those people."
A longer free preview of this book, or links to purchase, can be found at Google Books: https://www.google.com/books/edition/_/ ... =en&gbpv=1