I’m Outraged: The Cruel Reality of Forced Prison Labor and Why Proposition 6 Matters for Every Californian

C-Note, a prison artist and advocate, exposes the inhumane practice of forced prison labor in California, sharing his personal experiences and calling for the passage of Proposition 6 to end this form of modern-day slavery and promote rehabilitation for incarcerated individuals.

As a prison artist, I have witnessed firsthand the cruel and unusual punishment that forced prison labor inflicts on inmates. It's a form of modern-day slavery that strips individuals of their dignity and humanity, and it's time for us to put an end to it. Proposition 6, which aims to abolish forced prison labor in California, is a crucial step towards justice and equality for all. Here's why this issue matters to every Californian and how we got here.

How Did We Get Here?

The roots of forced prison labor in the United States can be traced back to the end of the Civil War. With the ratification of the 13th Amendment in 1865, slavery was abolished "except as a punishment for crime." This loophole was quickly exploited, particularly in the Southern states, to re-enslave Black Americans through the criminal justice system.

Convict leasing became a common practice, where prisoners were rented out to private companies for labor. Conditions were brutal, and many prisoners faced harsh, inhumane treatment. This system provided states with a cheap labor force while perpetuating racial oppression and economic exploitation.

In California, the legacy of forced labor has persisted in various forms. Despite progress in civil rights, the state's prison system has continued to use inmates for labor, often under the guise of rehabilitation. Prisoners are paid nothing or pennies per hour for their work, which ranges from fighting wildfires to manufacturing goods. This practice raises serious ethical concerns about the exploitation of human labor and the perpetuation of racial and economic inequalities.

My Personal Experience

As someone who has been incarcerated for nearly four decades in the California prison system I have seen firsthand the brutal realities of forced prison labor. Inmates, myself included, are often required to work long hours from minimal to no pay, performing tasks that can be both physically dangerous and mentally taxing. The threat of punishment looms large for those who refuse to comply, creating an environment of coercion and fear. This isn't just about low wages; it's about a system that dehumanizes and exploits individuals, reducing them to mere tools for profit. As one of California's most prominent prison artists and writers, I serve as a voice for those who endure these conditions, shedding light on the urgent need for change and advocating for the dignity and rights of all incarcerated individuals.

The Cruelty of Forced Labor

Forced prison labor is inherently exploitative. Inmates are paid far below minimum wage, if at all, and are often required to perform dangerous tasks without adequate safety measures. This not only endangers their physical health but also takes a severe toll on their mental well-being. The forced labor system treats inmates as commodities rather than human beings, denying them the basic rights and protections that all workers deserve.

Through prison slavery, prisoners are responsible for immaculately maintaining the prison grounds, as well as the prisoner housing units. The most egregious place to be forced into prison labor is to work in the prison kitchens. They are the most mentally and physically demanding prison slave labor jobs. Imagine being assigned to work as a cook. Do you know how often your forearms will acquire lifelong scars from 2nd and 3rd degree burns, as a result of grabbing hot deep dish pans from the prison ovens? No one is compensating you for this sacrifice. Your reward is 19¢ an hour.

Prison kitchen jobs are large work crews that require intense manual labor, no matter the position. They also require cooperation amongst the prisoners. What if you are a part of a highly motivated kitchen work crew that works hard, takes care of business, but are amongst a few prisoners who have no interest in exhausting themselves this way. What do you do; do you do their job? That's not sustainable, feelings of being taken advantage of will emerge towards those kinds of prisoners. So how does this problem get resolved? Solutions can be found in, A.) The work crew is severely slowed down. Work crews come into the prison kitchen setting as a group, and must leave as a group; B.) Double your personal labor, to compensate for their laziness; and C.) Address the problem with these kinds of prisoners directly for a behavior modification, either verbally or physically in which neither are guaranteed to succeed.

Speaking to your prison administrative work supervisor is not an option, A.) It's snitching; and B.) Once assigned to a manual labor position, it's very difficult to get you removed, especially for not working as fast, or as hard as everyone else. So that's one of the debilitating mental tolls being assigned as a kitchen slave worker.

That's just one of the mental stressors, fellow prisoners, but what about the prison administrative work supervisors? This is not the private sector, and the employee turnover rate is extremely high. Therefore, there is no continuity. In other words, some are amenable as supervisors, others are indifferent, and others still act as miserable monsters. The constant feelings of anxiety that comes with what kind of prison administrative work supervisor you will have that day is taxing.

All of this is politics, politics amongst the prisoners, politics amongst the prisoners and their prison administrative work supervisors, and politics amongst the prison administrative work supervisors. No one tells this story, which can be the worst. Prison administrative work supervisors do not get along, nor see eye to eye, and their interpersonal workplace conflicts are just another layer of an unhealthy work environment. This conflict is never contained amongst the prison administrative work supervisors, but affects the supervision choices they will make for that day.

What To Do About the Food?

Some prison administrative work supervisors allow the prison slave workforce to leave out the kitchen with food that was leftover after having fed the prison population; while others do not. Most of these prison slave labor kitchen jobs, the prisoners are paid nothing for ensuring the prison administrators are daily feeding the prisoners under their care and custody.

My Consequences for Refusing to Work as a Prison Slave Labor Kitchen Worker

In 2022, the prison yard where I was housed had a mass transfer of its population; whereby half of its population (500 prisoners), were transferred out of the prison. I, as a 60-year-old man, was assigned to provide slave labor in the kitchen. I never went to this assignment, because of the very foreseeable complex politics involved in such a work assignment. Also, as a 60-year-old man, I was unwilling to give the remaining life force I have left on Earth to the State of California. Huh? What has the State of California given to me, other than a 1998, Three Strikes life sentence for preventing a homeless man in downtown Los Angeles's skid row from following me, by displaying a knife. Over 27 years since my arrest in February of 1997, and I have never had a parole board hearing. The late 90s unhoused problems look nothing like the 2020s, and yet here I rot as human waste inside the California prison system.

From my perspective, refusing to ever go into work was correct. Had I honored, instead of resisting, I would have walked into a politically charged work environment. Southern Hispanic prisoners and an African American female prison administrative work supervisor were having personality conflicts. This would lead to the Southern Hispanic prisoners to go on a work strike. Their strike led to them all being fired.

Had I gone to work I would have walked into a politically charged environment. I would have been personally conflicted with whether I should strike with these Southern Hispanic prisoners or not. My worldview would be to strike. However, other Blacks I knew who was already working in that environment, do not hold a similar worldview. By me stepping into that environment with my worldview in support of the Southern Hispanic prisoners, and rallying other Black prisoners to participate, would have my political worldview at loggerheads with Black prisoners who would have rallied other Black prisoners not to participate. Could this political conflict with my own people have been resolved peacefully? One never knows, because I had chosen to be a forced prison labor resistor long before I was aware of the brewing racial and political conflicts festering in this work environment.

Eventually, I would receive a rules violation for refusing to go to work. I told the rules violation hearing officer why I never would do any of their manual labor work assignments. I was found guilty and sentenced to a loss of prison sentence reduction credits, access to the exercise yard, day room, and phone privileges. I appealed, and the appeal ended with the rules violation being dismissed, and receiving a counseling chrono.

I was later told by prison administrators that the decision to reduce the rules violation into a counseling chrono was a worse outcome, as rule violations could be removed from your prison record, while counseling chronos could not. This made me ponder, Since the "R" in CDCR stood for the word rehabilitation, couldn't I participate in rehabilitation?

In 2023, as a result of a drop in my custody level from a Level IV to a Level III, I was transferred and rehoused where the prisoner housing unit housed dogs. Paws for Life was a dog training program inside the prison. Prisoners must be disciplinary free for two years in order to participate. My 2022 counseling chrono disqualified me from participating in the program, and I was rehoused. The counseling chrono also disqualified me from participating in the visual art program.

Other prison slave horror stories I have witnessed in 2024, was an African American prisoner in his 80s, and nearly bent over as a result of a bad back and age, being assigned to work at one of the most grueling jobs in the kitchen, day in and day out. I witnessed the near panic on the faces of Black and Brown prisoners who were reliving their experiences as prison infirmary workers during the Covid-19 crisis. Everyday they lived in fear of dying, and hopelessness, as they were threatened by prison administrative officials that they had no choice.

Why Proposition 6 Matters

Proposition 6 is a vital piece of legislation that seeks to eliminate involuntary servitude as a punishment for crime in California. By passing this proposition, Californians can take a significant step towards dismantling a system that has long perpetuated racial and economic inequalities. Forced labor disproportionately affects people of color and those from low-income backgrounds, further entrenching societal disparities.

The Impact on Taxpayers

Ending forced prison labor is not only a moral imperative but also a practical one. Taxpayers bear the hidden costs of this system through increased healthcare expenses, legal challenges, and the long-term social costs of recidivism. The system doesn't not hand out certifications for working as a push broom janitor or kitchen worker, where one is constantly exposed to hazardous cleaning supply materials. By abolishing forced labor, we can redirect resources towards rehabilitation and education programs that genuinely help prisoners reintegrate into society, reducing re-offense rates and ultimately saving taxpayer dollars.

A Call to Action

I urge every Californian to support Proposition 6. This is not just a prisoner's issue; it's a human rights issue that affects us all. By voting yes on Proposition 6, you are effectively closing the Slavery Exception Clause loophole in the California Constitution. This Slavery Exception Clause loophole was adopted from the United States Constitution's Slavery Exception Clause loophole found in its 13th Amendment. Prison labor camps have no place in a socially progressive, democratically controlled state, such as California. By voting yes on Proposition 6, you are standing up for justice, equality, and the belief that every person deserves to be treated with dignity. Let us come together to end this inhumane practice and build a fairer, more compassionate society.

About the Author

Donald "C-Note" Hooker is a poet, playwright, performing artist, award winning visual artist, and is known as the King of Prison Hip Hop. His works have either been exhibited, performed, recited, or sold, from Alcatraz to Berlin. In 2017, Google Search listed him in their search results, as both America's, and the world's most prolific prisoner-artist. He has been written about in People, Flaunt Magazine, California Herald, and Hip Hop Since 1987, just to name a few. His writings have been published by John Hopkins University, John Jay College of Criminal Justice, and The Los Angeles Tribune; while his artwork has accompanied articles in Wikipedia, Word in Black, Studio Collective Journal (Virginia Tech Architect & Design), and podcasts as well.