Sasha’s Testimony – Provo Canyon School (2007)

My name is Sasha Oates and I am a survivor of multiple abusive programs.

When I was 14, I was struggling with self harm, depression, and an eating disorder.

In April of 2007, I was taken from a psychiatric hospital by two transporters, put on a plane, and arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah, then driven to Provo Canyon School in Orem, Utah. I was there for six months. While there, they rarely called me by name, they assigned me a number, 316. When they did call you by name it was with your number and last name. When we arrive they strip search us and cavity search us, deeply. There were male and female staff doing this, for me a male did so with a female staff present.

At random times we would be called for strip/cavity searches, by various staff, if they were suspicious of us for anything or as a response to a bad behavior such as “looking out the window too long” which was one of my issues, because I dissociated. I would then get punished by having to strip and be inspected. I saw girls also have to be, there wasn’t always privacy, they would take them in a room, but not always shut the doors.

I also saw a girl’s head being shaved there, while I was in orientation, the unit. Her name was Wilhemenia. She had dreads and that was an unallowed hair style/color. They would do this sometimes if you had bright colored hair that couldn’t be washed out or any ethnic styles like cornrows, dreads, box braids. They take all your belongings when you arrive and mark them with your new identity, your number, even my glasses. They brought out a drill-looking thing to engrave my number on my glasses. They only allowed very neutral things. A staff member took out my ladybug rainbow socks, and threw them away because they told me they were “f%g” socks.

You get a week or two to learn the rules, but about 3 days before they start enforcing them. There were harsh punishments for anything deemed against the rules. Everything seemed to break rules, leaving a single hair on your bed was an infraction, leaving a spot on the chrome fixtures was an infraction, showering less than 10 or more than 15 minutes, infraction. Burping without permission, or passing gas, scratching your nose in line. Everything was designed so that you couldn’t move through the program.

This was how I entered into Provo Canyon School.

I struggled with staying awake sometimes because when I was in PCS, they overmedicated me. They had me on an adult dose of seroquel, the sort of dose you would give to someone who has severe schizophrenia. The doctor told me it would “cure me bisexuality”. They made me feel constantly ashamed that I was bisexual with comments and a therapist who reinforced that it wasn’t natural. This in turn made me more depressed. I also had PTSD from childhood abuse, and my eating disorder stemmed off of that. The more I was touched by the staff, the less I ate.

I ended up in restraints and Dial 9s frequently, sometimes because of self harm, but other times it was for small things like not finishing my tray 100%, for not moving fast enough, for crying too much. A “Dial 9” is when they call “Dial 9 to” wherever you are, and you hear huge footsteps and as many as are available come to take you down, usually violently.

For me one instance went like this, the worst instance. My 15th birthday I didn’t finish my tray. This was because a staff member brought me a whole cake, white cake with white frosting, and told me I had to eat by myself. I tried to eat the whole thing, making me sick. I was surrounded by other kids. They meant to make the other kids turn against me, because I got cake and they didn’t. But another staff member interpreted the 100% tray rule to include that too. Since I didn’t finish, they had an order to tube feed me. I didn’t want to be tube fed and refused to go to the nurse’s office. They called a Dial 9 on me, men and women, mostly large men, came, lifted my body. It felt like I was floating for a moment. And then I hit the ground, I got dizzy because my head hit, and they were able to move me to the nurse’s office, where they put me in stirrups, and one person each held a body part as the nurse shoved a tube violently down my nose. It bled. I vomited unintentionally and then they put more in. I felt so much pain and I can remember the taste of fake chocolate Ensure mixed with blood and coughing. They did no monitoring after for refeeding syndrome, and I could have actually died.

The staff ordered me stripped, and they threw me in Obs, a concrete isolation room with a drain in the floor. It’s weirdly shaped, I don’t remember if it’s a hexagon or octagon, but it’s meant to reduce corners you can hide. I was in Obs I believe for three days though it might be longer, it may have been up to a week. It’s hard to remember because they kept injecting me with unknown medications, probably Haladol like they used for many, and I drifted in and out of consciousness. I was so cold, forced to be naked, and they turned on the air full blast. I was shivering, no mat, just bones laying on concrete with a drain for a bathroom. They let me out for a bowel movement once a day. I was treated like an animal to pee in a drain.

After I was tube-fed, a male staff member came in to touch me inside my body. He then whispered to me “You’re lucky you’re so skinny, no one wants to fuck a skeleton” as his explanation for why he was only fingering me. I think his name was Eric, but I had a hard time opening my eyes because of the chemical restraint so I never knew for sure. I was unable to fight back. I came in with PTSD and left with worse PTSD. To get out of Obs, I had to sit butterfly style with paper shorts on in the doorway for about 12 hours without moving. It became very painful. I estimate 12 hours because I saw both breakfast, lunch, and dinner go by.

Another incident was when they put me in a bathroom and had me clean with “cleaning soup” as the staff member commented. I had gotten too many infractions, and in exchange for not going on investment, the detention unit, I was to clean this bathroom with the door closed for five minutes. They set a little timer and sat outside. Little did I know, this had bleach and ammonia in the mixture, and I started coughing as the air felt like it burned. I only made it 3 or 4 minutes, but I got violently sick. I could hardly breathe for weeks. I vomited. I was even on sick bed, and the nurse removed me from all cleaning and school duties. I coughed so much, they actually took me to the hospital. They made sure I couldn’t say anything by staying with me the entire time. They never told my father, but I was diagnosed with lung scarring and asthma from this incident. I’ve never gotten rid of the asthma. Since I didn’t finish the punishment, I still had points I worked off for weeks in the detention unit, Investment. I was there for several weeks, not allowed to talk to people, sit at desks in painful chair structure ( a certain way of sitting specifically), all because I didn’t clean well enough. Then I got more weeks added for falling asleep, because I was over-medicated.

I never got past the second status level- team. The status levels went Pre-team, Team, Advanced team, achievement, Advanced Achievement, Senior, Advanced Senior. I rarely had any sort of rights or outside time there. I remember wanting so badly to breathe fresh air, and I got to on the way to the hospital and remember enjoying that for the brief moment from the doors to the car. I think I went outside, barring medical appointments, three times, including the day I left.

Many times I was in trouble because I would ask questions or request better classes. I didn’t understand often and I believe this is because I am autistic, and the paperwork I have shows they suspected autism, but punished me for the behaviors. In restraints they would pop my shoulders out of the socket behind me so I would stop fighting. I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and they knew I was very flexible so they took advantage to cause me more pain. They would joke about it when they heard it pop and me scream. There was always enough staff for a restraint but the unit seemed to rarely be fully staffed. Stuff happened between children sometimes.

I was able to self-harm multiple times while left alone. I did it to cope with what was happening to me. People who knew me there said I was quiet and reserved, which is sad, because normally I am not at all. They broke something inside me. Once I tried to hang myself with one of my pairs of pants, they told me to knock it off, and stop seeking attention. That was the end of it, except more punishment, time in isolation, to “cool down”. A chemical restraint put me to sleep for the rest of the night.

I left at the very end of October in 2007. I got 3 hours notice and they threw my few belongings in a trash bag. I was then picked up by the same transporters who brought me there, at 1 am in the morning, to drive me to my next placement due to some financial issue stopping payment from my school district to PCS. I was scared because I thought I had finally figured out the program, and didn’t know if I was going to a worse or better one. It was better, though still abusive with lots of chemical and physical restraint happening as well, but they at least called me my name.

I wasn’t a human in PCS.

I was a number, and that is how they treat you, unless they see an option to be extra cruel.

I’ve talked with other survivors who remember me, and they all stated the staff purposely targeted me above others. I believe this is because I am autistic and bisexual. I just didn’t understand why they seemed to be filled with so much hate for me, but accepted that I was just meant for abuse. They told me I was meant for abuse, that it was my lot in life, so I believed them for a time. The lasting damage I still deal with includes nightmares, CPTSD, anxiety.

I am alive in spite of the “treatment” I received.

I am a survivor.