Law and Ignorance: The Enemies of Empathy in Prison
When it comes to care for trans inmates, the empathy of individual officers and workers often comes into conflict with the law. A problem that is only worsened by a lack of understanding.
by B Speaks
For queer and transgender people behind bars, the lived reality of confinement is shaped profoundly by the attitudes and actions of the staff who implement policy day to day. This dynamic becomes especially stark in states like Georgia, where political decisions have thrust transgender health care and staff perspectives into legal and ethical controversy.
Earlier reporting by Assigned Media at one Central Georgia facility highlighted a profound divide between the state’s anti-trans policies and the views of prison staff who work closely with trans inmates: Medical staff expressed deep discomfort with orders to force trans women to discontinue hormone therapy, while office staff who interact closely with queer inmates often demonstrate empathy and respect.
A Lieutenant at a Central Georgia prison, who supervises housing units, described a pragmatic approach, but hinted at conflict in the ranks:
“My job is safety. I don’t care who you are on the street, when staff don’t understand your identity, it can turn into tension. I’ve seen situations calm down just by treating someone with respect, but not everyone on my shift sees it that way.”
These anecdotal insights reflect broader national patterns about what correctional staff think about LGBTQ+ people, and how those attitudes materially affect incarcerated individuals’ health, safety, and dignity.
In Georgia, these tensions have played out in the context of new laws restricting gender-affirming care, federal lawsuits, and internal policies on transgender inmates.
LGBTQ+ and Trans Incarceration in Context
Transgender people are incarcerated at disproportionately high rates. According to research by the Williams Institute, approximately 16% of transgender adults have experiences with incarceration, compared with roughly 2.7% of the general U.S. population. This disparity stems from intersecting inequalities, including poverty, discrimination, and policing of survival behaviors. National surveys show that transgender and gender-nonconforming people face elevated rates of victimization inside prisons and jails, including harassment and physical violence , often with little protection from staff or administrators. Against this backdrop, staff attitudes, whether supportive or hostile, profoundly shape the day-to-day world of incarcerated LGBTQ+ people.
Correctional officers, the staff who oversee inmate movement, enforce rules, conduct searches, and respond to incidents, are the people most frequently in contact with incarcerated individuals. Some officers acknowledge gaps in training and institutional guidance. The same Georgia lieutenant emphasized that attitudes are shaped as much by policy as by personal belief: “We’re given rules, but not the education to back them up. Officers get told what not to do, but not why it matters. That leaves a lot up to personal opinion, and that’s where problems start.”
Nationwide, officers’ attitudes toward transgender inmates range widely, with some expressing misunderstanding or discomfort about gender identity, while others develop respectful working relationships that improve safety and trust.
A peer-reviewed scoping review in Health & Justice found that many custody officers lack basic information about transgender identities and may see gender issues as “extra” or irrelevant to security work. In other facilities, officers deeply committed to safety and order may inadvertently marginalize transgender people by dismissing their needs or failing to intervene in harassment, behavior that advocates say compounds risk.
Administrative staff, including case managers, program coordinators, and office personnel, often interact with LGBTQ+ inmates in non-coercive contexts: scheduling appointments, managing records, and helping with reentry planning. Administrative staff often frame their interactions in more relational terms. An administrative assistant who works in records and scheduling described a different dynamic. “When you’re handling someone’s paperwork, their medical appointments, or their reentry plan, you see them as a whole person. A lot of the LGBTQ inmates I work with are just trying to survive the system with their dignity intact.” These less hierarchical interactions seem to foster more positive attitudes toward trans and queer inmates. Our prior reporting suggests that staff who communicate directly and respectfully with LGBTQ+ people develop more nuanced understanding and empathy.
This dynamic was visible in our own reporting: office staff who work with queer inmates closely often view them positively and humanely, in contrast to other staff groups.
Medical and Mental Health Personnel
Healthcare workers in correctional systems carry a dual load: providing care within budget and policy constraints while navigating institutional resistance or indifference. Studies indicate that medical staff often lack training in transgender health needs, which complicates access to gender-affirming care like hormone therapy. But medical staff are also disproportionately likely to push back when policies conflict with clinical judgment, as occurred recently in Georgia, where internal controversy erupted over halting hormone therapy for transgender inmates.
The Georgia Department of Corrections does maintain written policies governing transgender and intersex inmates. According to GDC Standard Operating Procedures, staff must engage respectfully with transgender offenders, avoid derogatory comments, and are encouraged (but not required) to use preferred pronouns.
A Deputy Warden, responsible for balancing compliance and operations, acknowledged the tension between law, policy, and staff belief:
“We’re caught between state lawmakers, federal courts, and the reality of running a prison every day. Personal opinions can’t override court orders, but changing culture is harder than changing policy. Some staff adapt quickly. Others fight back quietly.”
Another GDC policy, SOP 507.04.68, asserts that the Department will provide constitutionally appropriate medical and mental health treatment to offenders with gender dysphoria. These policies suggest an official baseline of respect and medical care, with an emphasis on individualized treatment.
In 2025, Georgia became a focal point in national debates over transgender healthcare after lawmakers passed Senate Bill 185, banning public funding for gender-affirming care in state prisons and blocking incarcerated people from paying for it themselves. Transgender inmates, represented by the Center for Constitutional Rights, sued, arguing the law violated the Eighth Amendment. A federal judge agreed in December 2025, ruling that denying medically necessary hormone therapy was unconstitutional and ordering prisons to continue providing care, though the Georgia Department of Corrections has continued to appeal.
At the same time, the U.S. Department of Justice has raised broader concerns about Georgia’s prison system. Federal findings cite a pattern of constitutional violations, including failures to protect incarcerated people, especially LGBTQ+ individuals, from violence and sexual abuse. The DOJ has also affirmed that gender dysphoria is a disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act, requiring proper medical care, placing Georgia’s prison policies and institutional practices under heightened federal scrutiny.
Across prisons nationwide, transgender people face heightened risk of violence and harassment. How officers perceive threats, and whether they take complaints seriously, directly affects whether prisons are safer or more dangerous for queer and trans inmates.
In Georgia’s larger system of more than 50,000 people incarcerated, these risks are amplified by chronic understaffing and overcrowding.
In Georgia, the conflict over hormone therapy illustrates how staff attitudes intersect with politics and policy. Healthcare workers who advocate for gender-affirming care may find themselves at odds with administrators implementing restrictive laws, or with guards who view hormone therapy as unnecessary. The federal court ruling requiring continued treatment underscores that clinical judgment and human rights cannot be sidelined based on ideology. Respectful staff interactions, such as consistent use of names and pronouns, make a measurable difference in incarcerated people’s mental health. In a punitive environment, consistent dignity by staff can mitigate trauma; dismissive or hostile attitudes worsen depression, anxiety, and isolation. Georgia’s formal policies acknowledge respectful communication as critical to safety, but enforcement depends on how seriously staff take those directives.
Research shows that targeted training on LGBTQ+ issues reduces incidents and complaints. In Georgia, the existence of written policies on transgender management and gender dysphoria indicates some baseline awareness, but political backlash and legal battles reveal deep institutional tensions over gender-affirming care and staff beliefs.
What happens behind bars isn’t just about rules on paper. It’s about how individuals, officers, administrators, medical staff, interpret, enforce, and sometimes resist those rules. In Georgia, where political decisions have blunted access to care and pushed transgender rights into courtrooms, the attitudes of correctional staff are both a reflection of broader social conflict and a determinant of daily reality for some of the state’s most vulnerable people.
For transgender and queer inmates, staff perceptions aren’t abstract, they influence safety, health, and survival. And in systems where policy is contested and federal orders override state law, staff attitudes often become the frontline battleground over human rights and respect.
B Speaks is a writer and advocate interested in prison/criminal justice reform, LGBTQ rights, and government/cultural criticism. A graduate of the University of South Carolina, B served as a political strategist and grassroots organizer in Washington D.C. Currently incarcerated in Georgia, B writes to expose and challenge the realities of the carceral system, advocating for justice reform and the voices often left unheard.