Protesters hang a thermometer in a make-shift prison cell during a rally at the Texas Capitol on July 18, 2023. ERIC GAY / AP
Incarcerated People in Texas Weather Extreme Heat in non-Air Conditioned Prisons.
Originally published in Scalawag Magazine.
This essay mentions suicide.
"Don't call it air-conditioning; It's a cooling system!" A guard yells to my escorts, referring to the month-old, temporary, external tubular system that seldom works. And on the rare occasions it does, it only maintains an in-cell temperature of 85°F. Daily, the heat index has been north of 110°, and it feels like I'm standing in a frying pan in melting shoes. The sun is sitting on my head and it's hard to fathom things worsening. Until, I enter the solitary confinement building, where I've lived for the past seven summers. The extreme heat punches me in the gut. A lid is on the frying pan, I'm covered and smothered.
Incarcerated people are running out of ways to keep cool as Texas refuses to install life saving air-conditioning in prisons. After two deaths in Murray Unit prison at the end of June 2023, our windows were nailed shut as workers installed what we've nicknamed "Fake AC." After several days of blowing powerful hot air, weakened cool air followed, only lasting a few days before reverting back to hot air, at which point it was turned off. The windows opened as we returned to shameful survival tactics to cool our bodies in the midst of an extreme heat wave.
An assembly line of repair persons appears daily for the Fake AC. The only one who actively engages us in conversation complains that the ventilation ducts should've been cleared and the gauges shut off. He explains loudly to the other end of his cell phone that he and his team need to start from scratch with a brand new machine. Hanging up, he relays to us that the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ) over state corrections, is trying to determine whether or not to replace or repair the system. While the state pussyfoots, heat strokes are becoming as common as belching.
We wear prison bikinis (panties and bras only), lay on the concrete floor covered by a wet sheet as the fan blows on us. Wine colored, raw, painful heat rashes appear beneath breasts from rubbing against wet clothing. The clever ones created harnesses to lift each breast, exposing the rash to the fan. The rest violate rules by covering the viewing window on the door to completely disrobe. When guards knock our curtains down, weakness prevents us from replacing the curtains as we lay still in our birthday suits. Its beyond degrading when a guard knows all your birthmarks.
We pour bowls of tap water over our heads and bodies hourly. The extremely vulnerable stop taking cardiac and psych medications due to a common side effect: increased heat intolerance. Others do the opposite, overmedicating to sleep away the heat. Living under this heat dome triggers asthma attacks, back-to-back seizures, and chest pains. Showers are held hostage by people refusing to exit the only cold working shower shared between 43 people. In this foxhole, enemies become friends and friends become family. There's no room for dignity, pride, or bias. We share a common deadly enemy: the extreme heat.
Desperation can be overwhelming. Some consider suicide attempts a win-win. Surviving means an air-conditioned psych center. Dying means the suffering ceases. Yet, with all our tireless efforts and ingenuity, we're still fainting, vomiting, profusely sweating, dizzy, weak, and dying. The Lone Star State's response to heat-related struggles in prisons is, "Free Texans don't have air-conditioning."
Every commercial break, my radio blares five tips to "Beat The Heat!"
- STAY HYDRATED WITH WATER AND SPORTS DRINKS: Guards only distribute cold water without ice during meals. Texas doesn't pay prisoners for forced labor. Bottled water and sports drinks are costly.
- TAKE COOL SHOWERS FREQUENTLY: Staff shortages and broken showers prevent access to cool water here.
- CREATE A COOL ENVIRONMENT BY COVERING WINDOWS TO KEEP THE SUN OUT: This will result in a major disciplinary infraction as it is a security violation punishable by phone and visitation restrictions.
- IF ELECTRIC FANS ARE RUNNING WHEN TEMPS REACHES 90°, THEY'RE INEFFECTIVE BY MOVING AROUND HOT AIR. INSTEAD, GO TO A COOLING CENTER: All we have are small electric fans. My in-cell temperature measured 129°F when I fainted. Solitary doesn't have air-conditioned respite areas.
- STAY INFORMED FOR LIFE SAVING HEAT ADVISORY WARNINGS: This is an information desert. We have no cell phone footage of our suffering to go viral and demand change or offer empathetic words about us.
Untroubled by the dire conditions of Solitary, TDCJ instead decides to mimic them and expand to all 90 statewide prisons.
They've nailed our windows shut, again. The Fake AC isn't blowing. TDCJ has announced a statewide indefinite lockdown of all its prisons in response to increased violence related to a contraband drug infestation of K2 and meth. Everyone will be confined to their cell 24/7 as staff searches for illegal drugs. If they really wanted to stop the drugs from entering the facilities, they would be searching the vehicles in their employees' parking lots.
The commissary, where we purchase food and hygiene, is closed during lockdown. The kitchen will provide two paltry sandwiches per meal. No recreation, no ice water, no showers, no TV. Hot, stale air blowing from a small fan. Now, add a roommate. In this extreme heat wave, tempers will flare with no way to call for help in these dilapidated buildings with emergency call buttons that haven't worked since Clinton was in office. Staff will remain in their working frigid real air-conditioning "Control Pickets," only appearing for count and distributing sandwiches. Once, during another time of record breaking heat, a person beat up their roommate for passing gas… while they slept. As the unofficial record for power use breaks daily, fear of dying in a heat wave will lead to more violence and escapism by self medicating.
Don't call it a Recipe for Disaster, it's Predictably Problematic.
Kwaneta is a brave abolition feminist determined to give society a peek inside the brutal criminal legal system, with hope to reimagine effective non-carceral solutions for those who harm. She provides an inclusive voice on mainstream issues like abortion, censorship and climate, and how they affect systems-impacted people. Her writings have appeared in PEN America, Truthout, Lux Magazine, Prism, The Appeal, Slate, Boston Globe, Dallas Morning News, and elsewhere. In 2024, she was awarded as a Haymarket Writing Freedom Fellow. She was interviewed for a documentary by Al Jazeera about solitary confinement, where she has been the past eight of her 17 years incarcerated. She is currently working on a book about the kids who are her neighbors in solitary confinement from juvenile.