The prison experience is different for different people. Nathan Gray — who’s 7 feet tall — lists 12 things one should expect if they’re that tall in prison.       

I am 7 feet tall, a fact that tends to surprise anyone who asks. This height makes me the tallest person in the prison I am in, Oshkosh Correctional Institution. It also means that I am possibly the tallest incarcerated person in Wisconsin, though others have told me rumors of taller people at other institutions. Tall people in prison seem to take on a mythical status in prison, people relate stories of the tall as though they were creating a new Paul Bunyan.

      There are, however, a few misconceptions about being tall in prison. People will pass around the advice that the first thing you do when you get to prison is beat up the largest person you see. So far no one has tried to attack me, but there are other things that tall people should be aware of if they’re heading to prison. Here are 12 things to expect being tall in prison.

-People will ask, “How tall are you?”

     I get this question all the time, not surprising considering the revolving door nature of prison populations. But I don’t just get it from my fellow incarcerated, I hear this question from correctional officers, nursing staff, school teachers, and other prison staff. It is such a part of everyday life that I rarely register it, though it tends to annoy people if they are trying to talk with me.

-People will ask, “Do you play basketball?”

      Just because I’m tall I automatically play basketball? This is usually the second question after, “How tall are you?” This is due to the strong sports culture in prison. People will see a tall person and see a perfect center to boost their team, regardless if you have any skill or not. People quickly found out that just because I’m tall, it doesn’t mean I am a natural athlete.

-Your feet will stick off the end of your bunk.

      This will depend on how tall you are. At my height, my feet hang about a half foot off of my bunk. This is great in the summer when my feet act as a refrigerant for my body. However, it’s not as great in the winter when I have to wear two pairs of socks just to get some warmth.

-Your prison clothes will never fit properly.

     My prison’s longest pants size look like high waders on me. Their tube socks wear like anklets. I need to be careful or their shirts will show off my midriff. I can say with all honesty that I am not attractive enough to pull off that look.

-You’ll run into a lot of short doors.

     Sometimes I think that prisons are designed with people 6 feet or shorter in mind. I have to duck through every doorway i n here. I’ve hit my head stepping out of the shower, going to my vocational program, picking up my laundry and meeting with my social worker. This occupational hazard comes with being tall. Luckily I’ve grown a thick skull, or so my mother tells me.

-You’ll learn to avoid low-set security cameras.

     In my prison unit, the chow line is a small hallway with a ceiling low enough that I nearly rub my crown against it. The end of this hallway has a security camera that I could smack my face on. I have been told by officers that they watch me when I go through the chow line, waiting for the day that I nail the camera. Despite some close calls, it hasn’t happened yet.

-CO’s will crack jokes about your height.

     I can always tell who the new guards are because they stare at me whenever I walk into a room. Sometimes I can even here them mumble to their fellow guards, “How tall is he?” Later on I’ll hear stories from different COs about the first time they came across me. Many were afraid of what would happen if I “take off,” prison slang for starting a fight. That is, until they get to know me and realize I am not that type of guy.

-You’ll get a tall nickname.

    I’ve been called Tree, To-tall, Ent, Green Giant, Nephalim, Jotun, Tower, Skyscraper, Iron Giant, and of course, Sasquatch. Expect some form of these names.

-The tables will be short.

      It seems that every time I sit at a table in the dayroom I smack my knees on the table’s edge. During mealtime, my knee will hit the table and it’s as if an earthquake just ran through. Cups will shake, utensils will fall to the floor, trays will go flying. Or so it feels.

-You’ll walk bent over a lot.

     Everyone around me seems so short. When I am outside with friends, I have to walk bent over just so I can hear them.

-People will talk about your height when they think you can’t hear.

      I’m walking down the main walkway at my prison. Coming the other way is a group walking and chatting. I see one of them point me out to his buds. They all go quiet and throw what they think are surreptitious glances in my direction. As soon as we pass each other, one of the guys says, “That motherf**ka is tall as a b***h man!”

-People will try to guess your height.

     It’s a fun game to play with strangers. When they guess 6’8″ or 6’10”, I get to surprise them with 7′. When they guess 7’2″ or 7’3″, I get to disappoint them with 7′. Every so often I get a really outrageous one, people asking if I am 7’8″ or 8′. I’ve even had someone guess 10′. Then they look like I have let them down when I say I’m only 7′.

The post What’s It Like to Be 7 Feet Tall in Prison first appeared on Prison Writers.