Mask On, Mask Off: The True Face of Incarceration

By Kevin Scott

I have a cyst on my brain and suffer debilitating migraines at times. When I was in prison it took months and months of leaping hurdles and red tape just to simply get some over-the-counter Excedrin. That was the best they would offer, and I had to fight like hell for just that. 

Others weren’t even that lucky. There was a man, Ted, in the bed next to mine who was incontinent, unable to eat or drink, unable to speak, who desperately needed medical attention. We fellow prisoners did our best to help him. People who society had written off as irredeemable were there for him at his bedside trying to ease his suffering. We pleaded with the prison staff to do something for him, anything. They could barely bring themselves to come out of their air-conditioned bubble. Nobody did anything until it was far too late and Ted died a miserable death in the indifferent jaws of a prison.

As officials discuss measures to limit the spread of COVID-19 in prison, it’s worth considering whether anyone can honestly expect an institution that operates like this to take care of prisoners during a pandemic.

This crisis has exposed what has always been a completely broken system. Florida’s prisons are ill-equipped mentally, emotionally, and materially to care for prisoners on their very best day, and everything has totally buckled under the weight of what’s happening now. COVID-19 has simply highlighted and magnified the cruelty that has been hidden from public view for so long. Guards staging fistfights among prisoners for the “privilege” of toilet paper. Serving prisoners rotten, spoiled food. Prisoners living with black mold and tainted water. Price gouging for basic necessities, food, and communication with loved ones. Incessantly berating and dehumanizing prisoners. Guards beating prisoners where the cameras can’t see them. Stomping on photographs of loved ones. I witnessed and experienced all of these things firsthand.

The prison system is utterly incapable of providing anything like genuine care. The basic kernel of humanity from which springs essential things like compassion and decency isn’t built into the mechanism of incarceration. It has no place there. The levels of apathy and malice are chilling. Capture, cage, harm, release, repeat - this leaves no room for humanity. 

This is reflected in the COVID-19 statistics. As of September 23, there were 16,197 positive cases of COVID-19 in Florida prisons. That’s 1,881 per 10,000 people. To put that in perspective, that’s 487% higher than Florida overall. Even for a state with an appalling record of addressing this public health crisis, this is horrifying. (Update: As of January 20th, 2021, Florida now has the dubious distinction of the highest amount of prisoner deaths in the country because of COVID-19. Florida has the same amount of deaths as the entire Federal Prison System.)

Despite numerous calls for compassionate release for at-risk prisoners, 127 people have senselessly died behind a Florida prison wall due to COVID-19. That makes for a 133% higher death rate compared to the rest of the state. Fifty of those deaths came in August alone.  Groups like Florida Prisoner Solidarity have denounced state officials for their failure to act. On August 22, body bags for each prisoner who had died were delivered to the front steps of the Department of Corrections headquarters. These deaths do lay at their doorstep. At this point, the state has executed fewer prisoners in the last four decades than they have let die of COVID-19. 

Locally, cases in the Alachua County Jail continue to rise despite calls for the release of prisoners. On July 10 there were 13 positive cases at the jail; that number had more than tripled just one month later. The jail maintains a higher percentage of positive cases than the county overall, with the county positivity rate at about 4.74% and the jail around 6%. In other words, if you go to the jail you’re more likely to be exposed, which increases the spread inside and outside. As noted by Tyler Winkelman of the Health, Homelessness, and Criminal Justice Lab, “Jail and prison health care is public health. It’s community health.” 

So what can be done? I have zero faith that the institution that allows daily atrocities in normal times will suddenly ensure that prisoners are safe during this pandemic. That suggests that the only way to protect those human beings is to get them out. I, therefore, echo the previous full-throated calls for the immediate release of all prisoners who are ill, immunocompromised, HIV positive, pregnant, as well as prisoners in an at-risk age bracket and people being solely held because of inability to pay cash bail. In addition, free communication, soap, cleaning supplies, and personal protective equipment should be made available to all prisoners. Staff’s use of PPE and routine testing should be mandatory. Prisoners should have continued access to the commissary, package rooms, libraries, and outdoor recreation spaces. The grossly inhumane practice of solitary confinement should end, especially as it’s being employed as a quarantine for sick or presumptively sick prisoners. 

The Florida Department of Corrections’ tagline is “Inspiring Success by Transforming One Life at a Time.” I see nothing “inspiring” about my cellmate Ted’s agonizing death. I see nothing “successful” about the terrifying numbers of COVID-19 cases. I hope the pandemic has once and for all unmasked the true, brutal nature of our incarceration system. 

COVID-19 Exposes Food Accessibility Deficits In Alachua County

By Latashia Mayze-Brimm

COVID-19 has shined a light on problems that our community has struggled with for a long time. For example, the survey Community Spring conducted as part of the Grassroots COVID-19  Recovery Campaign revealed that 27% of responding Alachua County low-income households did not have consistent access to food in May and April. This suggests that thousands of our neighbors are going hungry. While many respondents reported lacking the funds to purchase food, perhaps even more troubling was that one-third of people couldn’t even access the food that was available. Access to food is a basic human right as stated in Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It is simply unacceptable that this human right is not being respected for so many in our community. 

Even before COVID-19 struck, US food systems were already unsustainable and inequitable. According to Feeding America, over 37 million people in our country are experiencing food insecurities, including over 11 million children. In 2015, Florida had the 10th highest rate of food insecurity in the nation. Alachua County landed in the top five of Florida’s 67 counties, with a 19.8% food insecurity rate. This figure was improving, but since COVID-19 it has slipped to 18.9%, which means that nearly 50,000 members of our community are still food insecure. 

The scale of hunger in our community is staggering given all the work that is already being done to combat it. Dedicated organizations such as Bread of the Mighty Food Bank, Working Food, SWAG, Gainesville Community Ministry, Alachua County Christian Pastors Association (ACCPA), Salvation Army and Catholic Charities have been instrumental in distributing food both before and during the COVID-19 pandemic. In addition, food programs such as SNAP (food stamps) and WIC are available to assist with nutrition needs. However, only about 69% of food insecure individuals qualify for federal assistance, which leaves thousands of households struggling to get enough food.

The persistence of food insecurity is due in part to a long history of systemic racism and class inequality. The root of food access disparities, both in Alachua County and elsewhere, is the historic and present-day segregation of low-income minority communities. The lack of diverse, nutritional food options in these places is a painful reminder of archaic discriminatory policies, segregation and racism. 

So what can be done to decrease food insecurities in Alachua County? One place to start is increasing access to food via additional grocery stores. Alachua County has several food deserts - areas with severely limited access to grocery stores - all of which are scattered around Gainesville. For example, in East Gainesville the singular grocery store is Walmart. For East Gainesville residents without reliable transportation this lack of options significantly limits their ability to secure healthy food. The local transit system takes between 8 and 53 minutes to reach Walmart, depending on your location. That timeframe doesn’t include traffic or other delays. That’s potentially two hours round-trip just to get some groceries. Also, factoring in the limited amount of groceries one can carry and bus fare for each trip, there is a clear and significant barrier to food access. Local leaders should find ways to encourage developers to open additional stores in these areas.

However, it’s important to recognize that systemic barriers to food access run deep and new grocery stores won’t open overnight. Taking that into consideration, we need to move forward with other options in the meantime. One possibility is increasing distribution sites for free food. This is already being done in part by the Bread of the Mighty’s Mobile Food Pantry Program. So far there are 30 - 50 distribution sites spread over five counties and serving around 87,000 people each month. This model should be expanded. Imagine market stations of fresh food and produce options deliberately located in vulnerable communities throughout Gainesville. Communities such as Eastwood Meadows, Village/Forest Green, Lamplighter, Lincoln Estates, and Linton Oaks would benefit greatly from increased access to food. Distribution needs to take place on a micro-level, neighborhood by neighborhood.

There might be other creative solutions. Perhaps we could provide busing from communities to the food drive locations. Or bus loads of food boxes can be delivered directly within each food insecure community. Given the scale of the need, it’s time to start looking for new ideas and thinking outside the box.

The veil covering the full scope of food insecurity in our community has been shredded. COVID-19 has brought suffering and losses that we will never forget, but all of that pain is also an opportunity to finally make things better. Our neighbors who are elderly, or single parents, or disabled, or homeless and many others need more food options. Local leadership should encourage developers to open grocery stores in low-income and food insecure communities. In the meantime, a nutritional triage effort is required for food insecure individuals and communities. Partnerships should be formed between local government, farmers and other organizations to expand food distribution. If we fail to act now things will only get worse. 

As we all wait in anticipation for things to get back to normal, we need to think critically about what we consider normal. Food insecurity should not be normal. I hope that this painful moment can help our community unite and ensure that everyone’s basic human right to food is fulfilled.

Access to Fair Credit is a Pathway out of Poverty

By Tequila McKnight

My financial hardship pretty much started at birth. I was born to a mother who was only 15 years old, and who was sent to prison by the time I was three. I also became a mother at 15, and I started working full-time to care for myself and my baby while still in high school (which, might I add, I graduated from on time - no small feat!). At the age of 16, I was already on baby number two. Not yet an adult and already balancing so many things that even a small slip-up would send me over the edge. 

After turning 18 I started receiving credit card offers. I had never had access to money like that. I also had no understanding of how credit worked or how it could be predatory. I accepted a couple of offers and started charging away. Everything was going great. I got a job at the University of Florida, was living on my own and taking care of my kids. It was a lot to manage at such a young age, but I’m resourceful and managed to keep all the balls in the air for several years.

Then things came crashing down. The father of my two kids and high school sweetheart got in  trouble with the law. This one problem upset the delicate balance I had maintained and quickly snowballed into more problems. I lost my job and got evicted from my apartment. For months my kids and I moved from house to house sleeping on couches and floors. We even had to spend one night outside. Eventually I was able to get another place, but during this crisis my debt had ballooned to a point where I no longer had control over it. My children’s father ended up going to prison, leaving me with a five and six year old to raise on my own. 

In an effort to improve my financial situation, I turned to the higher education system and enrolled in an AA program in Business Administration. My dreams to further my education, however, only translated to more debt. With all the life complications that come along with financial insecurity, I couldn’t juggle the classes, a full-time job, and caring for my family all by myself.  As a result, I now have $50,000 dollars worth of debt and no degree to show for it. 

Year after year I struggled to better myself, but the predatory credit card debt and high interest student loans meant that I was constantly digging out of a hole. It felt impossible to turn my dreams into a reality.

With no other opportunities available to me, I decided to make my own way by starting a cleaning business (TNT Dynamite Cleaning Service). I used a lot of grit and a couple of saved-up paychecks to get off the ground. It became clear early on that I needed to expand to keep the business afloat. I started looking for small business loans, but not one financing company was willing to give me a chance because of my past credit history. All they could see were difficult times of my youth. No one made the effort to see the person I was now.

Then the COVID-19 pandemic struck. Everything felt hopeless. My little business that I had poured so much into basically came to a halt. I wasn’t alone. Community Spring’s grassroots COVID-19 survey and recovery work has highlighted the severe economic toll of the pandemic in our community, especially among low-income households. 

But then something unexpected happened. Relief programs for COVID-19 made financing for small businesses accessible. The unreasonably high barriers to loans that had prevented me from growing my business were removed. Because of the SBA Stimulus and the Payroll Protection Loan, I was able to hire more people and take on more clients. Not only did access to fair credit help put me in a better financial situation, it also created jobs for people in my community. I am finally on track towards my goals. 

My story shows that credit is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it can be predatory and trap people in poverty. Once the cycle of debt begins, it is nearly impossible to break. But on the other hand, fair access to credit is critical to helping people work their way out of poverty. The COVID-19 relief programs have shown that it is possible to give small business owners like me a meaningful chance to build themselves up. Fair access to financing and opportunities to improve one’s credit should not just be available during times of economic crisis. If we want to give people a real chance to escape poverty, ensuring access to fair credit would be an important step in the right direction.