Featuring hundreds of letters collected by the #EndTheException campaign, this archive is a testament to the courageous resilience of the 800,000 incarcerated workers forced to labor and a record of the continuation of slavery in the U.S.
Cell blocks, prison grounds, kitchens, laundry rooms, libraries, medical centers — these are the common spaces that make up America’s vast carceral architecture. Below you will be guided through these spaces by people who have documented their experiences of prison slavery — and are determined to bring to light the conditions in which they labor.
“I work as a cook in the prison’s main kitchen. I like the work, but not the pay or treatment by a few COs, in what is supposed to be a work program. Some of the jobs are rewarding because you get to learn a new skill, but at the end of the day, we are being used at some jobs to circumvent having to pay millions for corrections officers to perform the same duties.”
Curtis L. B.
“I myself am a certified chef. I work in laundry now but have worked in the kitchen for the past five years. A sweatshop, no air conditioning. You’ve got to cook meals for almost four thousand prisoners in about four hours, then you’ve got to clean up and cook the next meal, then the next. All you do is sleep and work.”
Harold M.
“My job title is “material handler,” a fancy name for a messy job. The “material” I handle is the unit’s leftover food after feeding chow. I deal with the slop. It’s a very dirty, messy job that requires strength because it does a lot of wear and tear on the body. Many nights I fall asleep with a stiff back and neck. All for what? I don’t get paid, but I…work like this, for 10 hours a day...”
Roxanne B.
“A while back…I was the head clerk in the kitchen. My job functions were typing call-out count letters, menus; ordering foods and supplies; assigning kitchen jobs and pay scales. I worked long hours, often 16 to 18 hours per day, and I worked 7 days a week. My pay was $1.25/day. Yes, just one dollar and twenty-five cents a day. Sadly, this was the top pay for not only the kitchen...”
William C.
“I am a library clerk here at [facility redacted] and I love this work. Nonetheless, the pay is an insult to me, 26 cents an hour.”
Abraham T.
“In the past, I have “worked” in the inmate commissary, on the inside grounds crew, and in the law library. I especially took advantage of the opportunity to work in the law library because it put me in a position to help other inmates with their cases. One of the things I find totally distasteful about being given a job is the almost worshipful appreciation some expect you to show...”
Tony E.
“I work in the garment factory. I enjoy working but I feel it is slave labor and a sweatshop. We get paid .50 cents to start and the state is profiting off our work.”
Allissia H.
“I have worked in the Texas Criminal Industries (TCI) for over 2 years now. They skirt safety and health protocols on all jobs and factories in this state. We are degraded on a constant basis by our work supervisors who watch us do all the work and then take all the accolades to the job when they just watch us work. This is a horrible degrading experience, and I don’t understand how anyone...”
Steven M.
“Inmates are the ones that keep all prisons functioning. If all the inmates at this facility stopped working, the facility would cease to run. At this facility alone, we have a DMV department and CAD design and manufacturing department for furniture. The facility produces furniture as well as Computer Aided Design services for other agencies. All of this work is done by inmates who make a max $112 a month...”
Andrew V.
“The prison workshops are also called enterprises. This is where prisoners manufacture products such as: tables, desk, chairs, shoes, clothing, linen, PPE masks and gloves, license plates, etc. The average prisoner who works inside of these enterprises in the state of Virginia is only paid in the range of 35 cent to 80 cent an hour. It would take up to 12 to 20 prisoners to equal the pay of one...”
Hakim T.
“I started out working on the bocce ball court, which was a job I really didn’t like. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do and thus received a lot of complaints. Currently, I work on the softball field, officiate the softball games, run the softball program as commissioner, and am the assistant detail clerk. All of this is through the Recreation Department. I only get Grade 2 pay...”
Robert A.
“My first job in the prison system was on yard crew. The duties include digging through trash bags to collect recyclables. The problem with this is that the only PPE we were provided was a single pair of latex gloves. The pay for some positions in this prison is 8 cents an hour. I remember feeling degraded and humiliated. Prisons have a low standard for sanitation....”
Tasha B.
“I am on the trash crew, I go pick-up trash from each building, big bags, and then I go dump them in the big garbage dumpster. I feel the job doesn’t pay enough.”
Allen R.
“The only other job I had…was “compound worker.” All we did was walk around and pick up trash or push manual lawn mowers... The job, besides being a forced exercise for me, was meaningless because they had ride-on lawnmowers cut the grass all the time. I only did it for six months and three of them went unpaid until I did get back paid for it all. Then the pay went from $18 a month to $7 a month.”
Adam G.
“I’m a folder in laundry. It’s a mindless job that doesn’t give me any job training, pay, respect, and, again, mindless.”
Tamina H.
“My job is in laundry. Like most prison jobs, it doesn’t present any challenges. It’s not rewarding. In prison you are made to go to work no matter how you may feel. If you are sick and don’t work, you will receive a disciplinary case. If you are hurt, you are expected to work if you can stand and walk. Heat during the summer causes us to work in temperatures that exceed 90 degrees easily....”
T. B.
“The work I am assigned to is field utility (hoe squad), and I can’t stand it. The [staff] riders talk to us like we’re less than human, and we do free labor which [the prison] gets paid for.”
Andre J.
“I have worked on the farm and yard crew cutting the grass and picking vegetables in 90 degree to 100 degree heat in the summertime under the watch of a shotgun toting racist in Deep South Atmore, Alabama. The pay for each of the above jobs was 3 peanut butter sandwiches a day, no money at all.”
Antoine L.
“I was at the [redacted] Unit in Texas and I worked the fields. We barely got one water or bathroom break.”
Christian B.
“I am currently assigned to what is called a “hall porter.” It consists of sweeping, mopping, cleaning windows, walls, and bars. I feel like it is a job that none of the officers, wardens, or directors of the department of corrections would do, neither paid or unpaid.”
Thomas R.
“I am currently a barrack porter, and I hate the fact that I have to clean after 60 inmates. If you refuse to work, they will lock you up in isolation for 30 days or more.”
Benjamin M.
“I am a janitor. I am a slave. I feel this is meant to keep the relics of the confederacy alive, at the expense of the poor, illiterate, and mostly minorities that make up the prisons in Texas.”
Alex S.
“I have failing health, severe arthritis and am required to work as a building porter…or will face disciplinary action, loss of privileges, a longer prison sentence, and numerous other forms of punishment. I…find it painful, exhausting and maybe even life shortening.”
Alan D.
These scenes are not intended to be accurate depictions of each person’s experience or even prison life – of course, men and women are not held in the same facilities. Instead, we invite you to think of these as blended realities, in which disparate stories can exist in the same space, showing how experiences of prison slavery are specific yet still universal in U.S. prisons.
The following letters and artifacts represent years of communication between the #EndTheException campaign and incarcerated workers, often at risk of serious retaliation for those behind prison walls. We honor their stories.
The protection from slavery is not just a basic workers’ right, it’s a basic human right. It’s time to #EndTheException. Since 2021, over 200 incarcerated people have written to the #EndTheException campaign. They describe their experiences as exploited workers forced to work under the threat of punitive coercion for pennies an hour or no pay at all. The continued deprivation of their rights as incarcerated workers should sound the alarm for all of us. It’s time to join their struggle to #EndTheException.