“A lot of people know nothing about the troubled teen industry or its affiliates. These are programs disguised to parents as options to help control, silence and reform children, teens, and young adults. In light locally due to Glen Mills boys school being shut down due to allegations of abuse; I thought maybe people should know about a couple other places too. WWASP, World Wide Association of Specialty Programs was a company incorporated in 1998 by [redacted]. Google it sometime, the rabbit hole is endless. My story towards this hell starts in those same years.
I was never what you would call “easy to deal with”. I’ve always been stubborn and mostly self centered. In 2001 I lost my father to Pancreatic Cancer, although I tell myself I was prepared for it, I know now I wasn’t and honestly I’m not sure I’ve ever made my peace with it. Irregardless one of the major things lost along with him was the buffer between myself and my mother. At the time I was a strong willed, big mouth, know it all teenager. Who decided the summer my father passed I was going to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I scared her with every choice I made as I believe my mother thought she would be burying a second Zimmerman that year. In October of 2001 I was what most of us who have been involved as TAKEN. I was woken up in the early morning hours by two men I had never seen before, ripped out of my bed and forced to dress. I was then led out of my home in handcuffs screaming for an explanation to deaf ears. I found out later that most of these “escort” services inform the parents to stay out of sight and not react to their children. That night I boarded my very first Airplane and wasn’t informed until we were seated that I was headed to Jamaica.
At that time Tranquility Bay was one of WWASP programs operating outside of the US, with the standards and laws being applied differently. When I arrived ,I was informed that I would be undressing down in front of a nurse ; looked over, weighed, and measured. Then taken for my first outdoor cold shower and brought to my new “family”.
We were grouped into different families and split up between Men who would watch us. They became our “Father” as the program referred to them. That first night I didn’t sleep at all, mostly because I wanted to know anything and everything the other boys in my room with me ( five of us when I got there, 18 or so in Renaissance Family and close to 200 boys total our side) would tell me. That was the first time I was told the story of a girl who had decided she was going to Jump off the front girls dormitory to her death less than 30 days before. I wondered if they had to disclose that to any of the parents. I realized right then that nothing would ever be the same.
I was sent to TB Oct 2001 and spent 936 days there until my 18th birthday April 29th 2004. Over that period of time I spent most of it on lower levels ( you were rewarded for being compliant and as you rose in levels, privileges were received ) staying to myself because I believe it was shellshock. During that time I witnessed unprovoked brutality from the staff and other “students”. From having to lay on my face while others sat on my Back, legs, or ankles. To being severely punished for even speaking. Even losing the most private of things like having to be supervised to even use the restroom. I was there throughout Hurricanes, sickness that swept the dorms and even a small scale riot in which I got to see violence I’d only seen in movies until that point. These facilities still exist and everyday kids all over the world are being mentally, emotionally and physically destroyed be people with little to no training on how to rehabilitate a “problem child”. Most of these lost souls never recover. I have struggled since my return to always find my place. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find it. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be ok. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth going on and that’s the truth about mental health and the PTSD a lot of us have. I can still hear the screams, I can still see the faces and I’ll never forget the voices.
Picture is from 2002 or 2003
That’s me in the middle rocking our lovely uniforms and shaved head so if we ever escaped we were easily identified.”
-A.R. Zimmerman