“My name is Mackenzie. I am 34 years old, and I have survived two WWASP facilities. I was taken from my mom’s house in Prior Lake, Minnesota, when I was 15 years old. It was May 5th, 2001, early morning, when two men came to get me. My mother came into my room and told me, “hey wake up. Remember that place in Mexico your dad wanted to send you? Well, you’re not going there; you’re going to a place in Montana.”
Then I was confronted by two men who told me to get dressed because I was going with them. I stood up and started yelling, half-dressed, as my mother stood in front of me to block their view of my nakedness. I was then left to dress and was guided out by the men. My parents stood on the steps in front of the front door, watching as I was taken. I told them I would never forgive them for this. I guess I have tried but it is still true, I cannot forgive them. I was compliant, I did not struggle, what was the point? These guys were huge! I felt helpless and alone. I thought about running the whole time but could not muster the courage.
I went along, head down. They told me there would be horses and cool stuff to do. Having been raised with horses, I fell for the lies. I was kind of excited then.
Turns out that was not the case at all. I was brought to Spring Creek Lodge, in Thompson Falls, Montana. I was put in a dorm after they shaved my, already short, green hair.
An Upper-Level girl went through my stuff and told me I could not have any of it. I was given the bare minimum and sent to strip down and bounce up and down in front of a staff member after getting a lice treatment.
Then I was sent to my bunk, where I was very angry at this point. Apparently, I scared all the other girls because I sat up and stewed in my anger. I kept to myself, I was quiet and scared. I tried to understand but I was in shock. Then the torments started to happen. They would wake us up and make us come outside even in the winter for “drills,” where they lined us up out in the cold, half-naked, and humiliated often. I could not rest because I did not know when the next drill
would be. We were not allowed to sleep in our bras but when we were taken out for drills, we would be in trouble for not wearing them.
I started to have headaches and I was sad all the time. I felt abandoned and alone and constantly picked on because they said I was a “dyke,” though I never claimed to be. They just told me that is what I was, and I had to be “accountable for that.”
After about 18 months, a staff member started making me wear ugly dresses because I was not feminine enough for her, so that was more humiliation. Soon enough I was sent to Tranquility Bay, Jamaica. I was not moving up fast enough and I assume my parents were tired of paying their prices, so a cheaper program would have easily been the answer.
Once I got to TB, I was again stripped down and humiliated by the nurse and scared into compliance by a female staff member, (she was actually very kind to me). Throughout my stay, the Jamaican staff were very open about what was happening. They were so warm and fun to be around. They were real. They did not play the games the staff did in Montana. As hard as it was, having to sleep on a plank supported by chains coming off the wall, in bunk style housing and listening to the OP boys and girls scream all night long as they were tortured, I was left alone for the most part.
I came to the facility a couple of months after a girl fatally jumped from the top of the girl’s dorm after something terrible happened to her during transport. It was not verified but it was felt. Everyone knew she was traumatized, and that is why she decided to jump.
I thought about it too, a lot of us did, but I think because we got a decent diet, fruit, and a lot of exercise, we were able to look past the trauma and focus on something else. We got a “fun day,” which was when we got to play sports and eat awesome Jamaican food the staff brought. I really enjoyed that. I still feel comfort from Jamaican food.
I tried my best to stay out of trouble. I got over being a liar and going out for attention. I was moved up to level 4, my mom came to visit me, and I was pulled shortly after. All my belongings had been ransacked by the Upper Levels, so that was a terrible feeling. Then what I had left was poorly packed, and when I arrived at the Miami Airport all my stuff burst from my tote onto the conveyer belt, in front of everyone. That sucked. I had to pick-up what belongings I could save and, as embarrassing as it was, I made it to my next flight. Back in Minnesota, I packed my things from our house in Prior Lake and moved to Washington state where I knew no one.
There was one more “program kid” I got into a relationship with, Brandon. We ruined each other’s lives quickly; that became the pattern. Now I am 34 and just went through another assault. I may or may not be ok from being strangled. My counselor said it could go either way. I thought I was just being a good partner.
Most survivors seem to be as chemically dependent as the next, myself included. I do not see the light anymore; I try to stay positive, but it is getting tougher each year. I do not want to die; I just want to help and bring light into the world. That is all I have ever done. I try to talk to my parents but whenever I do it is met with hostility, or they say it is my fault… maybe it is. Maybe because they did not want me, that is just my path.
It is hard to be alone, so I got two awesome dogs and have finally gotten reconnected with a family member who will allow me to be myself and have the space I need to heal. I am back to training horses who are surviving from trauma too. I have always been connected to animals more than people. I dance, I do flow arts and I do the best I can every day. I still struggle, and have mental breakdowns almost daily, but I know I am strong deep down and I will be ok.
Helping others through the darkness has been rewarding. I know karma has my back.
Thanks for listening.”