Under Watchful Eyes: Gendered Surveillance and Control in Correctional Officers’ Disciplinary Narratives of Incarcerated Women

Control and Discipline of Incarcerated Women

Although scholarship has documented gendered discrimination and mistreatment within correctional facilities (Crewe, Schliehe, and Przybylska 2023), research has rarely examined how officers characterize women in their disciplinary report writing and formal documentation practices. Prisons function as gendered organizations (Acker 1990) where “real” correctional work is often defined by managing and diffusing male violence—with the bulk of officer training reflecting this masculine ideal (Britton, 1997, 2003). Without facing the levels of violence that they were trained to manage, officers in women’s prisons may compensate by policing minor infractions with the intensity typically reserved for more serious security threats. Gendered workplace norms also create a paradoxical view of women’s criminality that guides prison disciplinary practices. On the one hand, officers may view incarcerated women as immature, emotionally unstable, and in need of guidance and protection (Belknap 2020; Greer 2002; McCorkel 2013). Yet women’s criminal behavior also tends to be interpreted by officers through a neoliberal, individualistic lens—one that attributes their justice system involvement to personal failings or “poor choices” while obscuring the structural inequalities and systemic barriers they disproportionately face (Haney 2010; Lempert 2016; Pollack 2007).

Adding to this is the fact that officers exercise significant discretion in their daily interactions with incarcerated persons—a process that is far more nuanced than simply enforcing rules (Britton 2003; Moore and Scraton 2015; Moran, Pallot, and Piacentini 2009; Pemberton 2013; Zaitzow 2004). As Haggerty and Bucerius (2021, 146) note, “officer discretion is more akin to parenting than to a judge rendering a verdict in court,” where it is not uncommon for correctional officers to characterize their job as “babysitting.” This parental sentiment intensifies gendered power dynamics as incarcerated women become increasingly seen as dependent children requiring constant supervision and correction (Britton 1999; Crewe, Schliehe, and Przybylska 2023; Galardi and Settersten 2018; Wyse 2013). Intersecting racial stereotypes may compound these dynamics for women of color, who are subject to assumptions that frame them as both more dangerous and more in need of control, due to racialized notions about criminality and femininity (Roberts 2012).

Research suggests that officers in women’s prisons more readily default to “hard power”—direct orders, formal disciplinary reports, and punitive sanctions—over the relationship-building and informal negotiations that help maintain order in men’s facilities (Crewe 2011). This heightened control stems from both broader patriarchal tendencies to police women’s behavior and specific institutional dynamics: Because women’s correctional populations are smaller and pose fewer risks of violence, collective resistance, or organized unrest, officers do not need to be as selective about which violations to document and sanction (Haggerty and Bucerius 2021). With reduced concerns about inciting uprisings or destabilizing the institution, officers in women’s prisons can be more authoritarian and far-reaching in their rule enforcement and issuance of disciplinary tickets (McCorkel 2013; Tasca, Orrick, and Butler 2024).

Staff perceptions and institutional dynamics thus culminate in correctional environments where incarcerated women are often characterized as manipulative, argumentative, temperamental, relationally dependent, and emotionally needy (Galardi and Settersten 2018; Greer 2002; Wyse 2013). These labels become embedded within institutional practices, creating a cycle of surveillance and discipline. Punitive responses to even nonviolent assertions of agency become justified in this context, including verbal pushback and other minor transgressions (Aranda-Hughes et al., 2021; Kreager and Kruttschnitt 2018; Zaitzow 2004). A dilemma, therefore, arises for women in prison: Conformity to gendered expectations fosters gendered oppression and relational isolation (Ellis 2023; Girardi 2025), but resistance triggers disciplinary action (Jenness and Gerlinger 2020; McCorkel 2013; Tasca, Orrick, and Butler 2024).

Data

In this study, we analyzed data on all disciplinary reports issued to incarcerated women housed in a northeastern U.S. state prison system in 2019 (from January 1, 2019, to December 31, 2019). The correctional system under study operates two dedicated women’s facilities that serve distinct populations. The primary facility, a medium-security prison, functioned as both the system’s reception center and the main women’s prison, with an average daily population of 394 individuals in 2019. The secondary facility, a minimum-security institution with an average daily population of 73 individuals, focused on pre-release programming and reentry preparation. These facilities were distinct from many other state correctional facilities for women as they housed individuals with varying legal statuses, from pretrial detainees to those serving state or county sentences, as well as civil commitments. Consequently, there was substantial population turnover throughout the year as women were continually processed in and out of the facilities.

In total, 2,112 women were incarcerated in this prison system at some point in 2019, of whom 790 (37 percent) received at least one disciplinary report. There were 2,682 disciplinary reports issued to women in 2019. We retained 2,628 of these for analysis after removing duplicate and incomplete entries that were submitted in error (e.g., those containing only a few words or sentence fragments without any substantive content, or that stated “submitted in error”) and those lacking any identifying information on who received the disciplinary report. Of the 790 women who received at least one disciplinary report, the average number of reports received per person was 3.33 (ranging from 1 to 36). Women issued disciplinary reports were more likely to be sentenced (rather than held pretrial) and to have been admitted to prison before 2019. Black and Hispanic women were slightly overrepresented, and white women were slightly underrepresented, in the disciplinary report sample relative to the overall prison population. This mirrors broader patterns of race differences in correctional discipline documented in other studies (McCorkel 2013; Tasca, Orrick, and Butler 2024; Wulf and Trammell 2021). ¹

The state’s correctional system operated under a standardized disciplinary process with 97 defined rule infractions categorized across four levels of increasing severity, ranging from minor infractions to serious offenses. Officers held considerable discretion in deciding which behaviors to formally write up as infractions. Once they chose to issue a disciplinary report, they were required to provide a narrative account with relevant details and context. Reports thus often included highly subjective observations about women’s tone and demeanor, verbal exchanges with direct quotations, and detailed descriptions of women’s body language, emotional states, appearance, and relationships with other incarcerated women. Access to disciplinary narratives of this scope and detail is exceptionally rare in correctional research. Most studies of prison misconduct rely on administrative data that capture only the final outcome of disciplinary proceedings (i.e., guilty infractions) and quantitative information about the type of infraction, without access to the initial narrative accounts written by officers describing the incident. We emphasize that these reports represent officers’ decisions to formally document what they observed as rule violations, which may or may not have led to formal sanctions or “guilty charges” following administrative review.

The 2,628 disciplinary reports were written by 262 unique correctional officers. Most officers (61 percent) wrote five or fewer reports, but 12 officers wrote more than 50 reports each, collectively accounting for 36 percent of all disciplinary narratives. This concentration raises questions about whether certain officers are more likely to formally document rule violations. However, without data on officers’ work schedules, shift assignments, or tenure, we cannot determine whether high reporters simply worked more hours or had different thresholds for formal documentation. Our thematic analysis did not identify marked differences in how women’s behavior was characterized across officers, suggesting that patterns reflect institutionalized norms rather than individual officer biases, though some officers wrote shorter and less detailed narrative reports than others.

Because we have access only to narrative accounts and not additional data on disciplinary charges, in many cases, we did not know the exact rule violations women were being ticketed for. Overwhelmingly, the reports described nonviolent incidents, with only 11 percent noting any sort of physical altercations or violence. In many reports, even those with substantial narrative detail, officers used general language referring to a “violation of the rules and regulations” or described a series of acts, without explicitly stating what specific rules were being enforced. Therefore, rather than attempting to verify the factual accuracy of incidents, case outcomes, or categorize reports into types of rule violations, our focus is solely on the language used by officers throughout these reports. These narratives reveal officers’ subjective interpretations and value judgments that shape how women’s behavior is officially documented and understood within the institution. Our analysis examines how gendered characterizations permeate disciplinary reports, demonstrating that these documents function as mechanisms for enforcing normative femininity rather than merely recording rule violations.

Analytic Strategy

We reviewed all the written disciplinary report narratives and employed thematic analysis to examine the language and characterizations used by officers in documenting rule violations. We chose thematic analysis for its flexibility and capacity to identify patterns across qualitative data (Braun and Clarke 2006). The coding process, as described by Lofland and Lofland (1995), focused on systematically categorizing textual content through iterative stages. We began with open coding, reading through the disciplinary reports line by line to identify key concepts and recurring themes. Through this process, we developed initial codes capturing the language officers used to describe women in the context of their rule violations. As patterns emerged, we moved to focused coding, combining and refining our initial codes into broader analytical categories. We aimed to gain a deeper understanding of the ubiquity of the themes identified in officers’ narratives across all infraction types. Our analysis benefited from the research team’s extensive knowledge of this prison system and its operational practices, gained through our engagement in a larger research study on the sources, consequences, and administrative responses to prison violence.

The coding process involved multiple stages of verification to ensure reliability. Initial themes were developed by one member of the research team and then independently verified by a second researcher. A third team member reviewed these themes and their supporting evidence to further validate the analysis. Any discrepancies were discussed among team members until consensus was reached. Again, our coding focused on the gendered language officers used rather than the specific rule violations being documented. Thus, our analysis identified recurring narrative patterns in officers’ reports that revealed how they interpreted and characterized incarcerated women’s behavior. We verified that these themes appeared across all racial groups in our sample and across reporting officers, though we note explicitly where certain disciplinary practices carried distinct racialized dimensions.

Surveilling Women’s Relationships

The surveillance and regulation of women’s interpersonal connections emerged as a striking theme in disciplinary narratives. It is well known that women form close personal bonds with other women in prison, including “pseudo-families,” that provide emotional support in an otherwise lonely environment (Clone and DeHart 2014; Edison and Haynie 2024; Wulf-Ludden 2013). Yet our analysis showed that officers frequently described these connections as problematic. Their disciplinary reports often referenced women’s relationships, making note of “girlfriends,” “known associates,” or “unauthorized physical contact,” regardless of the alleged violation. This surveillance aligns with long-standing institutional anxieties about women’s same-sex relationships in prison, which have historically been framed as threats to moral order (Freedman 1996). Contemporary gendered correctional ideals continue to encourage women to demonstrate “emotional self-sufficiency” by avoiding relationships with other incarcerated women, and by framing isolation rather than connection as evidence of rehabilitation (Ellis 2020; Pollack 2007; Wyse 2013).

Officers were vigilant in documenting physical contact between women. As some reports illustrate: “Inmate [X] violated the rules and regulations by being out of place and engaging in inappropriate conduct with another inmate (hugging) . . .” and “Captain [X] observed Inmate [X] outside of the med lines area embracing another inmate after receiving medication. Both inmates hugged each other briefly and this Captain told them it was inappropriate.” Officers closely monitored women’s associations during facility movements as well, as another report demonstrates:

Detainee [X] resides in the [A unit] and came to med lines at the [B unit] around 07:45 am. Detainee [X] was with another inmate who is a known girlfriend and they walked to the main chow hall together, after going through the med lines. After having breakfast, both inmates who had been through the med line already attempted to loiter at the med line waiting area, which is out of place.

While the formal rule violation here is being “out of place,” the officer’s emphasis on the “known girlfriend” illustrates how the institution tracks and catalogs women’s relationships with each other.

Any verbal reference women made to their relationships was also noted in disciplinary reports, even if tangential to the infraction, such as in this report about “wrestling”:

I observed Detainees [X] and [Y] wrestling with the water pitcher at their table. Both Detainees then attempted to leave the chow hall when I stopped them and asked what happened. Both Detainees attempted to lie and said that they just spilled water on the table. Both Detainees were advised that I observed them wrestling with the water pitcher. At this time Detainee [X] stated, “It’s a marital issue nothing more.”

Contrary to literature suggesting that women’s prison relationships are stereotyped as overtly sexual (Owen 1998), disciplinary report narratives overwhelmingly described mundane interactions. Although a few reports included language about physical affection like “kissing,” “sexual activity,” or “prolonged hugging,” most described women sharing food, borrowing clothes from each other “to look good,” walking together, or visiting each other’s cells to “drop something off,” “say hi,” or “vent”—innocuous displays of friendship. In one example, an officer issued a disciplinary report for disrupting a major count of women laughing together:

Inmate [X] was being loud, laughing and joking with her roommate while this reporting officer was [conducting count]. She was offered an informal reprimand in which she stated “For what? Laughing? Nowhere in the handbook does it state I can’t talk during count” while being animated. Inmate [X] was advised she would now be receiving a D report in which she stated “That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The officer’s notation that the woman was “laughing and joking with her roommate” rather than simply “being loud” shows how women’s relationships often became part of the formal record.

Group activities received particularly intense scrutiny, as illustrated by one officer’s exhaustive account of an attempted birthday celebration:

Upon entering the yard, Lieutenant [X] observed Inmate [X] to be involved in an unauthorized inmate birthday celebration. The inmates did have in their possession one brown paper bag decorated for the occasion. On the above mentioned prison birthday bag was a picture of a K-9 appearing to be a yellow lab wearing a blue birthday hat with white spots, the K-9 pictured has a white substance on the muzzle area which this reporting officer believes to be frosting from the cupcake also in the same picture. Also written on the bag is “happy birthday.” Other items on the bag include magazine cuttings of phrases, and a pink bow made from what appears to be magazine cuttings. Also a pair of blue sweatpants size unknown, and several dozen pieces of candy and doughnut sticks, and three birthday cards. Upon questioning, none of the three party attendees would provide an answer to Lieutenant [X] as to where the sweatpants originated from. I do find inmate [X] to be in direct violation of the rules and regulations of the institution by being in possession of contraband and having food and drink in the yard. All items mentioned in the above report have been secured as evidence.

The remarkably detailed reporting—documenting everything from the decorative elements to the suspected frosting on a drawing of a dog—transforms a friendly celebration into an extensively documented series of rule violations. The allocation of time and resources to document such nonthreatening interactions reveals a distinctive pattern of surveillance that is hyper-focused on women’s relationships rather than on serious security threats. This surveillance enforces a particular vision of acceptable femininity which pressures women to remain emotionally isolated and dependent on institutional authority rather than forming bonds with each other. By treating acts of friendship and mutual support as worthy of formal disciplinary documentation, officers discourage the formation of connections that foster collective solidarity (Kruttschnitt and Gartner 2003; Owen, Wells, and Pollock 2017).

Scrutiny of Women’s Appearance and Self-Presentation

Disciplinary narratives additionally revealed a persistent preoccupation with regulating women’s physical appearance. While certain appearance-based rules are enforced for health and safety reasons, our analysis found that officers routinely scrutinized women’s clothing, hairstyles, makeup, and grooming practices. In the highly controlled prison environment, personal appearance represents one of the few domains where incarcerated women can assert individuality (Giallombardo 1966). Although women in the prison system under study were required to wear standardized prison-issued uniforms, leaving them with minimal options for self-expression, even these limited allowances—such as how they wore their hair or styled their uniforms—became targets for disciplinary action. Reports described officers removing women from programming for exposed undergarment straps, ordering clothing adjustments when boxers were visible, and sending them back to their housing units for wearing hair rollers, typically citing these as dress code infractions without reference to specific institutional policies.

Property inventories of women’s prison-issued clothing, for instance, regularly appeared in officers’ disciplinary narratives:

Inmate [X] was wearing a white T-shirt underneath her windbreaker, violating the institutional rules. Upon addressing the issue and checking this inmate’s property screen, it was found that Inmate [X] was wearing contraband personal sneakers. Inmate [X] is currently allowed only state issued sneakers. Due to Inmate [X]’s claim of having no sneakers, I escorted her to property and she was issued a pair of state size 7.5 sneakers.

This multistep response—from identifying the unauthorized shirt, to property record verification, to escorting the woman for state-issued shoes—indicates the considerable effort dedicated to formally correcting and documenting problems with women’s appearance. Dress code enforcement also served as a way for officers to monitor women’s relationships, as they noted when clothing items were shared between women:

I CO [X] observed inmate [X] wearing blue cotton shorts which are not on her master property sheet. Inmate [X] stated, “I borrowed them from a friend in [X] Unit. Can I give them back?” Inmate [X] was asked whose shorts do they belong to and refused to answer this officer. She was instructed to return to her unit and change, which she complied to and handed this officer the shorts upon her return.

The officer’s interest extended beyond the dress code violation itself to identifying who had shared the shorts, and the woman’s refusal to provide a name became part of the record.

Disciplinary reports further detailed the various ways that women attempted to maintain their appearance by repurposing available items for beauty needs. Officers noted when they fashioned “crayon in liquid form . . . for nail polish,” mixed “candy with hairspray” for hairstyling, and used colored pencils as makeup. Women were additionally written up for being “out of place” in each other’s cells for styling their hair or “misusing the string from a state issued tampon” to pluck their eyebrows. Reports were littered with mentions of the confiscation of items like shampoo, hair conditioner, lotion, Chapstick, hair clips, and bobby pins. These items were documented in disciplinary reports under generic rule violations such as “unauthorized possession” or broadly cited as “violations of institutional rules and regulations,” again without specific reference to any one disciplinary code.

Tensions over women’s appearance began from the moment they entered prison, as evidenced in this report: “During routine intake, it was noted that Inmate [X] was wearing green contacts. Inmate [X] was given several direct orders to remove them. Inmate [X] refused all orders, stating, ‘This is Lasik, I need a machine to remove them.’” Lasik surgery does not involve colored contacts, yet this woman’s fabricated medical excuse represents a concerted attempt to maintain some control over her appearance. Staff surveillance extended to religious expression as well, with officers closely monitoring how women display symbols of faith: “I observed Inmate [X] wearing rosary beads as a necklace. I instructed Inmate [X] to place the beads inside the shirt.” This sort of scrutiny of personal appearance often provoked frustration from incarcerated women, as illustrated in this report:

I found Inmate [X] to be in violation of the inmate dress code and being insolent towards this officer in front of the entire chow hall. While supervising dinner chow, I saw Inmate [X] wearing her work release uniform sweatshirt into the chow hall. Pre-release inmates have been spoken to many times about not wearing their work uniforms around the institution. I told Inmate [X] to report back upstairs and remove her sweatshirt. Inmate [X] stated that she was cold and did not want to remove her sweatshirt. I again stated that she was not able to wear her work release uniform in the chow hall, and that she needed to go back upstairs to change. Inmate [X] turned to leave the chow hall, and then stated in front of the chow line, “You are such a bitch,” and exited the chow hall.

This exchange further documents how inflexible appearance enforcement could be—even when women’s clothing choices had a practical explanation (e.g., being cold).

Racialized themes emerged in narratives about appearance as well, most explicitly in disciplinary reports that concerned hair extensions and weaves, which are considered contraband. These rules disproportionately impact Black women and can function as mechanisms for enforcing white norms of feminine presentation within the prison system. Women explicitly chose disciplinary segregation over removing their hair extensions before court appearances, with one report stating: “Upon entering the institution, Inmate [X] immediately refused to remove her contraband hair extensions, stating ‘I’m going to court tomorrow, I’ll go to segregation.’” Multiple women made similar decisions, as another report indicates:

I approached Detainee [X]’s door and informed her that her time in close custody had ended and ordered her to remove the hair weave she had in order to be placed in general population. Detainee [X] refused, stating “I get out [in 10 days] so I’ll just stay here until then.”

In this case, the woman was willing to remain in restrictive housing for more than a week rather than remove her hair extensions. Ultimately, the enforcement of these institutional regulations put women in a difficult position: Comply with prison rules—thereby sacrificing their sense of self and risking appearing unkempt in court or elsewhere—or accept punitive confinement to maintain their appearance. By policing everything from religious expressions to hairstyles to basic grooming, prison staff assert substantial authority over women’s bodies and identities.

Characterizing Women as Insolent and Defiant

The third prominent theme in officers’ disciplinary narratives was the characterization of women as disrespectful to authority. Regardless of the formal rule violation that was noted—whether related to movement, property, interpersonal conduct, or other institutional policies—subjective characterizations appeared throughout officers’ narratives, using terms such as “insolent,” “defiant,” and “belligerent.” More than simply enforcing specific rules, officers’ documentation of attitude problems across all types of infractions reinforced institutional expectations that women should be compliant and docile.

Women who attempted to understand or navigate institutional policies often found their actions interpreted as deliberate challenges to authority. The following demonstrates how even seeking clarification about prison rules could escalate tensions, as evidenced by the documentation of both the initial confrontation and the ensuing friction between the officer and the incarcerated woman:

Detainee [X] who is currently on Awaiting Action (AA) status from a previously issued disciplinary offense, was deemed to be out of place when she was witnessed heading towards the unit showers. This reporting officer gave Detainee [X] several direct orders to not enter the shower because, while on AA, showers are offered during the morning shift and she already had a shower today. Detainee [X] ignored this order and continued to the shower room stating, “I’ve been here for five years and never had this issue. Write me the D because I’m going to shower.” Moments later Detainee [X] returned to this reporting officer’s desk asking for the inmate handbook. Detainee [X] then stated, “if there’s nothing in the inmate handbook that states I can’t shower, I will be showering.”

Particularly concerning was how this pattern of characterizing women as insolent and defiant extended to instances where women attempted to access medical or mental health care:

I observed Detainee [X] being insolent towards staff. I observed Detainee [X] running from the upper yard area. As she ran past Lieutenant [X], he asked her why she was running. Detainee [X] replied, “because I fucking feel like it” and continued running. I then ordered Detainee [X] to stop running which she complied. Detainee [X] was asked why she answered Lieutenant [X] this way and she stated “I just need my meds. All you guys do is talk to us like shit too. All you’re doing is trying to stop me from my meds for my mental health.”

In this case, the report prioritizes the woman’s perceived insolence over her explicitly stated need for medication. Similar language was evident in other reports where officers described women as “beginning [their] antics,” “grandstanding,” “making a scene,” or “going on a rant” when attempting to obtain prescribed medication. One report documented how an incarcerated woman began “screaming and beating up her cell door because she wanted her meds,” though a few hours earlier she had “refused to come to the door for her meds because she was ‘too cold.’”

Officers often used infantilizing language in this regard, describing women as “acting childish” and “unable to control [their] emotions,” or as in this narrative, where a woman’s reaction to having items taken away was described as a “tantrum”:

Inmate [X] admitted that [she] had lent out grey sweatpants and a blue knit hat to another inmate, which was in the process of being confiscated by this reporter. Due to being upset [she] continued with a tantrum by yelling at this officer stating, “You fat controlling fuck those are mine. Am I going to get them back? Fuck you . . . you piece of shit. I hope your kid ends up just like me you controlling fat fuck.” Inmate [X] was advised a disciplinary report was forthcoming. Inmate [X] then went to the cell and slammed the door.

Similar reports contained detailed observations about women speaking in what officers described as “demanding” or “loud” voices, alongside accusations of being “disrespectful” and “argumentative” during routine interactions. The casting of women’s behavior as defiant took on added significance when officers perceived their disrespect as occurring in front of other residents:

I witnessed Inmate [X] violate the rules and regulations of the institution by being out of place, causing a climate issue, refusing direct orders, and being insolent towards staff. Inmate [X] ran over to the first table in the unit dayroom and belly flopped on the table and reached over and hugged another detainee. As Inmate [X] was seen running to the unit table, this reporting officer gave several direct orders to cease her actions, leave the unit and return to her unit. All directives were ignored. As said Inmate was leaving the housing unit, Inmate [X] stated to this officer, “fuck you.” Be advised this whole action sequence was witnessed by a full dayroom of detainees.

The explicit mention of witnesses (“full dayroom”) elevated the severity of the incident, turning behaviors like hugging into a matter requiring formal discipline.

Officers’ heightened sensitivity to any challenge to their authority was also evident in reports such as this one:

Inmate [X] proceeded to mock this officer on the phone and remained on the phone after being told to end the phone call for approximately 5 minutes. Inmate [X] then hung up the phone and proceeded to approach this officer aggressively by pointing her fingers in this officer’s face. Inmate [X] also used offensive language with this officer, stating at one point, “these fucking kids.”

The account, though brief, notably detailed the length of the phone call, the woman’s body language, and the specific language used. Officers even recorded “muttered comments” and “questioning looks” in their narratives as evidence of insubordination, and reprimanded women for behaving “rudely,” such as in one narrative that detailed how “Detainee [X] whistled loudly continuously and made inappropriate comments” toward male firefighters responding to an alarm in the facility. Women’s truthfulness was also documented pervasively, with officers characterizing them as “being less than truthful,” “lying,” making “false accusations,” or trying to use “manipulation tactics.” During routine rounds, one officer filed a disciplinary report after finding a woman in another resident’s room, adding that “Inmate [X] lied to this reporting officer stating that she resides in [said] room.” These characterizations of dishonesty echo historical stereotypes of criminalized women as inherently deceitful, reinforcing long-standing biases within criminal justice settings (Gaarder, Rodriguez, and Zatz 2004; Galardi and Settersten 2018; Pollock 1986).

These characterizations appeared in reports issued to women of all races, yet the language of defiance can carry particular weight when applied to Black and Hispanic women, aligning with controlling images that have historically cast women of color as angry, threatening, and disrespectful (Collins 2000; Roberts 2012; Wulf and Trammell 2021). Such terms as “loud,” “demanding,” and “aggressive”—though applied relatively evenly across racial groups—evoke racialized stereotypes when used to describe women of color, and shape how other institutional actors interpret disciplinary reports and respond to subsequent interactions with these women. By framing women’s advocacy for their needs, questions about rules, and expressions of frustration as evidence of disobedience, officers delegitimize women’s voices and reinforce expectations that proper femininity requires docility and deference to authority. Taken together, the disciplinary narratives showcased a system of excessive surveillance where officers repeatedly interpreted women’s behaviors as acts of insubordination and defiance, contributing to a correctional environment that demands total compliance.

Limitations and Future Directions

While this study offers valuable insights, several limitations should be considered as directions for future research. For one, our analysis relied exclusively on officers’ written narratives without access to any demographic information on reporting officers themselves. Even though there was a relatively equal proportion of male and female officers working within the women’s prisons under study, potential gender differences may exist in how they documented and responded to women’s behavior (Britton 2003; Compton and Brandhorst 2021; Jurik 1988). Officers’ racial backgrounds, tenure in the profession, and previous education and training experiences likely also shape their perceptions of and responses to incarcerated women, and these characteristics should be considered in subsequent work.

A strength of our study was that we had access to narrative reports that provided insights into forms of disciplinary documentation that are rarely available to researchers. However, our data lacked consistent information about which specific rules were violated, formal findings of guilt, or what sanctions were imposed. Recall that our research aimed to analyze language patterns across all disciplinary reports to identify themes of gendered regulation in officers’ narrative documentation, rather than to verify the factual accuracy of incidents or case outcomes or to focus on specific types or quantities of rule violations. Still, future work should investigate the relationships between disciplinary report language and formal outcomes to determine whether certain gendered characterizations correlate with specific types of guilty rule violations or more severe sanctions for incarcerated women, and especially women of color.

Additionally, our data consisted solely of officers’ accounts of disciplinary incidents. Pairing officers’ written narratives with incarcerated women’s accounts of the same incidents would provide crucial insight into how the same behaviors are interpreted and framed differently by institutional actors versus those being disciplined. Such comparative analysis could reveal the extent to which officers’ gendered characterizations align with or diverge from women’s own understandings of their actions, illuminating how power shapes the construction of “official” narratives. Direct comparisons between women’s and men’s facilities represent another promising research direction, potentially providing a deeper understanding of how gender shapes correctional control strategies.

Last, because we focused on a single northeastern state prison system, the findings may not generalize to correctional contexts with different policies, training practices, or institutional cultures. It is worth noting, however, that the system under study is relatively progressive and prides itself on its evidence-based approaches to women in prison. That these patterns of gendered control persist in this system suggests they may be even more pronounced in less reform-oriented correctional environments. Expanding this inquiry to other correctional systems across different regions of the country would help determine whether the same gendered patterns in disciplinary narratives are consistent elsewhere.