color photograph of incarcerated men wearing light blue Department of Corrections shirts standing outside the canteen in San Quentin prison
SAN QUENTIN, CA - AUGUST 15: Inmates at San Quentin State Prison wait in line to purchase items at the canteen at on Aug. 15, 2016, in San Quentin, California. (Photo by Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)

There are always more rumblings about canteen price hikes coming from my housing unit at Central California Women’s Facility (CCWF), where women are perpetually trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents. We’re all sitting ducks to the state’s artful archery of price gouging. My mom used to work the canteen window for Los Angeles County joints back in the day. She used to say the vendors had “a captive audience, a monopoly” on the makeshift grocery store that would arbitrarily raise prices due to greed rather than inflation.

I remember examining my California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) Inmate Statement Report earlier this year to see how much money I would have coming in from my job as a recreational helper. My quarterly salary had the 13th Amendment—constitutionally codified slave wages—written all over it.

As an Inmate Advisory Council (IAC) member, I’ve made it my business to confront the warden about utilizing the Inmate Welfare Fund (IWF) to subsidize some out-of-control price gouging and inflation at the canteen window. The IWF is an endowment of sorts, derived from a percentage of money incarcerated people and their support systems spend on products, goods, and services within the CDCR enterprise apparatus. The IWF can be used to appropriate funds to various causes short on allocated funds. It’s ideal for supplying support to impoverished women whose jobs are often closed due to staff shortages while their base salaries are 8 cents an hour.

After speaking with many of my constituents, canteen workers, and fellow IAC members who had canteen in their wheelhouse of responsibilities, every woman said subsidizing canteen is doable. Andrea, a former canteen worker, scoffed at the fact I had to push so hard for a no-brainer idea, stating, “The prison pays overtime to staff out the IWF. I don’t see why they can’t help us with canteen. It’s our money.”

To verify Andrea’s claims, I had a constituent submit a request to ascertain what the IWF covers in expenses. We received generic answers from the CCWF administration stating the IWF covered surface things like self-help, sponsors to work bulk sales and proctor groups, and other “miscellaneous” undisclosed endeavors.

A lot of my peers wanted their voices counted for this article. The more desperate their circumstances, the sharper their comments. My roommate Jersey said she can’t wait to flee “C-A-L-I”—or “Can’t Afford to Live In” California—thanks to inflation, the homelessness crisis, and inescapable poverty. The blond-to-brunette former soccer and softball player related, “When I first got here, a stinger [immersion heater that boils water] was $7.15. Now it’s $11.40.” My bunkie also chimed in, “Mayonnaise was $3.25, and now it’s $6.55. Even the seasonings were cheaper. This is ridiculous.”

However, on Oct. 11, we caught a glimpse of change. A CCWF IAC member—someone who represents the prison population in meeting with the prison administration—made an institutional announcement that was then posted in every housing unit, stating the following:

“Attention population! Senate Bill 474 has passed. SB474 reduces the markups on canteen items from 65% to 35%. In November, the prices of some items will be reduced due to the personal care contract ending and a new contract beginning. In December, the prices of all items will be reduced.”

Before its passing, Jersey told me about SB 474. Also known as the Basic Affordable Supplies for Incarcerated Californians (BASIC) Act, the bill was introduced by California Sen. Josh Becker with the hope of “eliminat[ing] excessive markups on commissary items.” Inevitably, as the bill gained traction, canteen prices began to skyrocket. Jersey compared these price hikes just prior to the bill passing to techniques used in the “free world.”

“This is turning out to be like when major stores increase the price of an item before telling the consumers it’s on sale,” she said. “It’s not on sale; they just want you to think it is. They are driving up prices even more before SB 474 passes, making it already too expensive to afford when a woman is making 8 cents an hour like my job as a kitchen worker pays.”

According to a San Quentin canteen price list, items like soap and hair grease are less expensive in the men’s prison, which a few women have a legitimate gripe about too.

“That’s sad [that] the men’s prices are cheaper because the men get everything,” said my bunkie with a deep sigh. “I’m tired of being treated as less than the men. They treat us bad, and what about our kids? What about adults working overtime for them to survive, to help us survive? They can’t afford their necessities [because] they gotta help us out.”

According to a 2015 report issued by the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, canteen markups also impose a heavy burden on families who support an incarcerated loved one. Nearly 2 in 3 families with an incarcerated family member are primarily responsible for covering incarceration-related costs, often leaving them unable to meet their basic needs, including food and housing. SB 474 was co-sponsored by policy advocacy groups like the Ella Baker Center, The Women’s Foundation California, Legal Aid at Work, and Legal Services for Prisoners with Children and is supported by San Quentin’s Civil Engagement Group. Though advocates are glad for the bill’s passing, many wanted a 0% markup rather than just a reduced one. 

“[SB 474 is] a good bill that is going to save Black and brown families about $16 million annually,” said Ella Baker Center policy associate Thanh Tran. “However, vigilance is still required because in four years, CDCR can negotiate with the legislators about a new markup rate.”

It seems to me folks across the mass incarceration spectrum have a vested interest in curbing inflation and price gouging—finally something we all can agree on. I am an accomplished writer, but I still have to reach out to additional support systems to sponsor vendor packages and put money on my books, and I constantly have to defuse arguments with my mom about paying $7 for each transaction fee. I’m barely surviving off honorariums because they are often incomparable to what my male counterparts receive when writing from the men’s prisons. Consider this a public service announcement: The next time we reformers and abolitionists are having a convening of the minds on these financial conundrums, let’s be gracious to the idea of staving off economic inequalities in ways that are more considerate of women and that show her more love when it comes to the financial inequalities between male and female incarcerated earners. Incarcerated women will make the world marvel too.

The Right to Write (R2W) project is an editorial initiative where Prism works with incarcerated writers to share their reporting and perspectives across our verticals and coverage areas. Learn more about R2W and how to pitch here.

Tomiekia Johnson is an activist, writer, prison journalist, poet, musical artist, curator, facilitator, inside organizer, public speaker, and “prison lawyer.” Born and raised in Compton, Tomiekia earned...