A fever keeps me up all night. My head spins and I’ve never been this exhausted, yet I must go to my shift in the kitchen at 4:30 a.m. If I miss work, I risk punishment or jeopardize my chance at freedom. I have no choice but to show up because my boss is the California prison system.
I once dreamed of becoming an artist, but life had other plans. My mom moved from New York to California to escape a substance abuse problem, leaving my brother and me behind. When I eventually joined her, hoping for a fresh start, we became homeless, and she relapsed. This string of events eventually led to my involvement in the prison system.
I was incarcerated for 11 years in the state of California and I worked against my will under conditions of involuntary servitude — a form of modern-day slavery. The prison system has no choices and no exceptions. If I tried to take sick time, which incarcerated individuals are entitled to under California law, I was punished. Similar to the US Constitution, the California Constitution contains an "exception clause" that permits involuntary servitude as punishment for a crime. And people of color are disproportionately impacted because they make up a majority of the state’s prison population.
Are you registered to vote? Check your voter registration here.
Now California has a historic opportunity to end this cruel and racist practice. Proposition 6 will give voters the power to end forced labor inside state prisons and county jails and finally close this dark chapter in our state’s history.
Where else in America is slavery still legal? Where else can someone whose freedom has already been taken away face further restrictions for refusing to work? Only in prison and jail.
California's legacy of slavery and forced labor includes the exploitation of Indigenous people in Spanish missions and African Americans during the Gold Rush. Since the inception of California's prisons, the system has exploited this type of labor, from forcing incarcerated people to construct the state’s first prison to operating facilities like the still-active Folsom Prison license plate factory. Our prison system is built on this exploitation and punishment.
Today, California relies on prison labor for operations and maintenance, including food service. We produce more than 1,400 products and services like road signs, textiles, medical equipment, furniture, and license plates that are largely sold to government agencies. For our labor, most of us earn cents per hour.
Some see prison labor as beneficial, but for me and my fellow workers forced labor offered no positives and ultimately hindered our progress. I went to prison to change my behavior, not to wash dishes. Earning pennies for menial jobs didn’t aid my rehabilitation or skill development. I needed guidance and education to overcome my criminal record, but instead, I was trapped in kitchen labor and missed valuable programs.
Surviving prison brought many dark moments, especially in the notorious Pelican Bay State Prison segregated housing unit (SHU), commonly known as solitary confinement. The isolation, designed to break your mind, body, and spirit, left me completely alone. My only respite from 24/7 lockdown was a poetry class I took, allowing me to briefly step outside my cell. That’s when my creativity began to flicker. I shared my writing with other incarcerated men and it resonated with them in ways I hadn’t expected. This creative spark ignited a desire to guide others lost in the darkness. In the SHU, I met Scott Budnick and the Hope & Redemption Team of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC), who recognized my potential and believed I deserved more.
An estimated 95% of people in state or federal prison will come home one day, according to the US Department of Health and Human Services; I was one of them. Upon my release, I lacked the skills and work history needed to succeed as my time in prison hadn’t prepared me for the outside world. I felt like I was set up to fail. I often feared I would never be seen the same way due to the trauma and isolation I endured.
So, I did what many young people do today: I started sharing my story on social media. I learned how to take photos and videos with my phone, and one of my Instagram reels, "I'm Your Formerly Incarcerated Co-Worker," went viral, garnering over three million views. Reels and TikToks became my way of shedding light on people's experiences inside and advocating to end mass incarceration.
These days, I create content for ARC, a nonprofit advocacy group in California led by formerly incarcerated individuals like myself. At ARC, we work to end mass incarceration and empower both incarcerated and formerly incarcerated people, helping them reclaim their lives and futures. The mentorship and guidance I received from ARC while incarcerated continue to shape my advocacy work today, including my company, Forever 23 Production LLC.
Over 40% of people in California return to prison, according to state data. That’s in large part because the system prevents them from reaching their full potential. Without forced labor, people could choose jobs that match their career goals while pursuing education and self-improvement.
Proposition 6 will end what is effectively slavery in prisons, prioritize rehabilitation, and uplift personal dignity, giving individuals a better chance at stability when they come home. Voting yes to Proposition 6 this November is a powerful way to take action against, in effect, modern-day slavery and help change oppressive systems.
Stay up-to-date with the politics team. Sign up for the Teen Vogue Take
