Prison Labor: On Our Plates and In Our Closets
By Eric La Rosee
Graphic by Lily O’Brien
For many Americans, 2020 has been a year of profound revelations.
The pandemic, combined with the brave work of millions of activists and protestors, has laid bare many of the injustices which are woven into our society at the systemic, structural level-- be they legal, medical, or economic. Though it is worth noting that these critiques are not new but merely new to us, this is nonetheless a time of unprecedented awareness.
The justice system, particularly, has received criticism at every facet for its enduring legacy of anti-Black violence and exploitation—exploitation from which many major corporations do, in fact, benefit. Because the 13th Amendment bans forced labor “except as a punishment for crime,” American prisoners can be and routinely are forced into involuntary, drastically underpaid work legally. Combining this knowledge and the fact that Black Americans are drastically overrepresented in US prison populations, many consider mass incarceration as merely the present evolution of American slavery.
Prison labor is a part of American corporations’ business models in a wide variety of markets; inmates paid under two dollars an hour handle Whole Foods’ fish and Starbucks’ coffee, and work in call centers for American Airlines, Verizon, and Sprint. They’re made to fight California’s wildfires, even though they will not be allowed to work as firefighters in the state of California upon release. They’ve manufactured soap, face masks, and hand sanitizer during the pandemic.
And, notably for those of us who love fashion, they have produced garments for such brands as Nordstrom, Victoria’s Secret, Jelt, Nike, Simms Fishing, and Macy’s. It is not at all unlikely that you, personally, own and wear clothing produced by prisoners—all of which can proudly sport a Made in USA sticker or tag.
I know for a fact that I do, and learning this hit me particularly hard—I think of myself as someone who works to live an ethical, respectful life, and it turns out that I’d been, and probably still am, unknowingly supporting the exploitation of some of America’s most mistreated people by corporations, and by our government.
So what can we do with this knowledge?
Firstly, there’s no point in destroying the unethical clothing or goods we already own—those corporations already have our money for them, regardless of how long we use them, so it’s better that we don’t have to go out and replace them.
Secondly, and this is major, do your research into the ethics of what you’re considering buying. This can be disheartening, I’ll admit, because it often leads us to see more clearly just how widespread the human rights abuses in our corporate economy are, but it is essential that we become mindful of this if we are to be more responsible with our spending power moving forward.
Thirdly, with the information we acquire by looking into companies’ practices, we need to go out of our way not to support the corporations whose ethics we find unacceptable; the main thing all of these companies care about is their bottom line, and so the most effective thing we can do as consumers to change things is to make it financially toxic for them to exploit our fellow human beings. See if any boycotts or strikes are going on and how you might be able to support their efforts. Make a point of mentioning to your friends and family why you aren’t supporting a particular brand, and encourage them to become engaged in more mindful spending habits of their own.
Outside of the commercial sphere, you can become politically engaged and put pressure on your representatives.
Commercial and labor laws are just that—laws—and they can be reformed if there is significant public outcry.