The gay wing at Men’s Central Jail is an exceptionally rare, if not unique, subculture, the only environment of its kind in a major U.S. “If you were going to smuggle something in, it would be dresses and bras.” Inmates in these three open-plan dorms don’t worry much about the gang politics and violence among the “general population.”ĭuncan Roy, a gay British film producer who was held in K6G for 89 days without bail in 2012, under ex–Sheriff Lee Baca’s controversial interpretation of “immigration holds,” recalls, “In other parts of the jail, you try and smuggle in drugs and cigarettes. But among the roughly 400 people housed in “K6G,” the gay wing of Men’s Central Jail, there’s little outward expression of racial prejudice or gang rivalry. MCJ, as many dub it, is a cauldron of racial tension where violence is easily stirred by a fluctuating daily population of 3,900 to 4,700 inmates packed in close quarters. And this year, seven of the county’s own jailers were convicted as part of an ongoing federal investigation into obstruction of justice and use of excessive force against inmates. The scene seems all but impossible inside this tough, urban jail, one of the largest in the world, outfitted with 1,000 security cameras and employing some 500 Sheriff’s deputies as jailers, where hardened inmates sometimes manage to murder other inmates. Shortly before, Yah Yah, one of four inmates approved by the Sheriff’s Department to speak to, and be videotaped by, the newspaper, had been explaining, “You’re allowed to be with whomever you want to, talk to whomever you want and do whatever you want to, basically, as long as you do it in a respectable way.”
The impromptu fashion show broke out the moment after inmates spotted L.A. They twitch their hips and seem to be having the time of their lives as scores of men and transgender women whoop and shout out unprintable encouragements.
Two other inmates, both with long dark hair and wearing form-fitting minidresses, jostle to be the next to parade down the aisle. Her infectious energy lights up the locked, windowless room filled with roughly 140 inmates. Laughing onlookers chant, “Work it, Yah Yah!” “Perform honey!” “Better work that runway!”Ĭatwalking on the balls of her feet as another inmate improvises syncopated beats by banging on a metal bed frame using a plastic spoon and a plastic 7-Up bottle, Yah Yah is in her element. She’s flaunting a white cotton halter-top baby-doll dress and matching white Cinderella gloves, hand-crafted for her by one of the trans women inside this infamously tough downtown L.A. Williams, a transgender inmate known on the inside as Yah Yah, glides past a hooting and hollering crowd of her fellow gay and transgender inmates, perched atop their beds for a prime view. With rouged lips, long hair and a strut that would give Naomi Campbell pause, Dave Williams, 47, works the 75-foot runway that stretches between crowded rows of green chipped-paint bunk beds at the L.A.