The Prison Industrial Complex As Seen By “OITNB” Characters.
by Ziwe Fumudoh
Jenji’s Kohan’s “Orange is the New Black” is a revolutionary TV series that provides a behind the scenes perspective on life in a women’s federal prison. The story revolves around Piper Chapman (Taylor Schilling), a woman who is sentenced to 15 months in Litchfield Penitentiary for acting as a drug mule in her ex-girlfriend Alex Vause’s (Laura Prepon) drug cartel. With a diverse ensemble cast, “Orange is the New Black” succeeds in providing a rounded portrayal of the many women our justice system defines as criminals. Yet, with all its grit, season 3 of “OITNB” fails to capture the harsh realities of the prison industrial complex.
The United States has the highest incarceration rate in the world; in the past 30 years, the number of inmates stuck in the penitentiary system has increased by 500 percent. There are currently 72 million Americans in prison, on probation, or on parole, and to accommodate this high incarceration rate, the nation has turned to private companies to lessen the burden on the American taxpayer.
“Orange is the New Black” is a fictional show, and it would be silly to hold it to the same standards of a documentary (for that, look to Locked Up In America, Prisons For Profit or Prison Valley). In its first two seasons, OITNB is simply a federal prison. And although its happy-go-lucky moments could be seen as a sanitization of the prison industrial complex, the writers include somber moments of regret and despair for central characters. For example, upon Tastee’s release from prison, she has nowhere to go and no money to spend. She very quickly violates the terms of her probation and subsequently lands back in the prison cycle. This depiction is notably one of OITNB’s stronger moments, as we see how Tastee’s fellow inmates relate to her as family, and are disappointed yet accepting of her return to Litchfield. Season 3 of “Orange is the New Black” differs in that it’s the Litchfield prison’s initial confrontation with a private company’s jurisdiction. This introduction to for-profit prisons is a watershed moment for the series, opening our favorite characters to a new litany of obstacles. To make up for the show’s lapse in information about the for-profit, privately owned prison complex, and how it differs from traditionally run federal prisons, here are some facts about for-profit prisons that “OITNB” failed to mention.
1. Required maximum occupancy
Many prisons, such as the largest for-profit prison organization, Corrections Corporation of America, include occupancy guarantee clauses that mandate their prisons must be occupied between 80 and 100 percent, or the state (and taxpayers) will face exorbitant fees.
For-profit prisons appear attractive under the guise that they are the most cost-effective imprisonment option for cash-strapped states. Yet, with occupancy guarantees in Arizona, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Virginia, prisons must reach 95 to 100 percent occupancy. These strict contracts encourage criminal justice officials to seek harsher sentences for criminals to uphold the states’ end of the contract. Rather than cultivating a justice system that protects the public interest and reforms criminals, this setup is concerned with ensuring corporate profits, oftentimes at the expense of lower-income individuals who can’t afford appropriate legal services. Even worse — states that don’t meet their occupancy criteria are hit with huge fees. In Colorado, a state where crime is down 33 percent, taxpayers still pay $2 million for their private prisons.
Facing immense budget cuts and imminent closure, Correction Officer Joe Caputo of Litchfield in “OITNB” turns to the for-profit prison MCC to save jobs. This was Caputo’s only feasible outlet, as no one can squeeze dollars out of a federal prison like a for-profit prison. The decline in food quality and increase in full-time guards, the newly installed double beds, and the increase in population (as foreshadowed in the last scene of season 3), all indicate the MCC will be overcrowding the Litchfield prison to increase its profit margins.
2. The cost of transferring money
In season 3, Piper starts her panty-dealing ring, with the help of her brother on the outside. She sells used panties to fetishists via an online store. In exchange for her fellow inmates’ wearing the panties for the designated period of three days (yes, it’s gross), Piper shares ramen flavoring and deposits $8 in her “employees” commissary accounts.
In reality, companies like JPay Inc., which handle money deposits into inmates’ commissary accounts, would make Piper’s panty-smuggling ring virtually profitless.
What “OITNB” fails to mention is that many correctional facilities have updated from traditional money transferring to digital companies like JPay Inc. In 12 years, this pervasive company has provided money transfers for 1.7 million offenders across 32 states, which is approximately 70 percent of the prison population. The free money transferring option features delays, and other obstacles that makes the process inaccessible to most citizens attempting to give money to inmates, thus people must use the expensive transfer system that features fees as high as 45 percent. In Virginia for example, after these exorbitant fees, the state takes out another 15 percent of the transferred money for court fees, mandatory saving and interest payments that go to the Department of Corrections. With 7 million transactions in 2013, JPay generated 50 million dollars in revenue. If this revenue is any indication, most of the money Piper would deposit into her fellow inmates’ accounts would go directly into the pocket of the for-profit prison she hates so much, and the companies that allow prisons to exploit inmates. Piper’s numerous transactions at the end of the week would be too costly to effectively run a prison business, and thus money transferring systems like JPay would stop her small business before it even started.
3. Forced prison labor
“Orange is the New Black” is right, forced prison labor is as American as apple pie. Since the Civil War, the United States has had a tumultuous history with profiting from prison labor. The 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution outlawed slavery and involuntary service except “as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted.” Through the criminalization of newly freed slaves, prison labor became a way to work around the end of slavery by forcing imprisoned people to work for nonexistent wages. Now, using prison labor, two of the largest for-profit prison companies make more than $3 billion in revenue.
Until recently, “OITNB” focused on the institutional support jobs at Litchfield, which refers to inmates doing work related to daily prison operation, like Pennsatucky Dogget (Taryn Manning) driving the correctional facility’s van or Red (Galina Reznikov) managing the kitchen. But since Litchfield was taken over by MCC, the inmates have been assigned to sew underwear for “Whispers” (what one can assume is a stand-in company for Victoria’s Secret, the lingerie company that formerly employed inmates in the 1990s). Interestingly, the “OTINB” inmates make $1 an hour, despite the fact that the lingerie they make costs $90. This cheap pay is nothing unusual for for-profit prisons, as leasing out their labor to private companies accounts for much of their profit. In fact, taxpayers subsidize prison companies for employing prisoners, because companies that pay inmates for their labor can get 40 percent back on their tax reimbursement.
“Orange is the New Black” provides a voice to a population of Americans that otherwise goes unnoticed. The show is able to capture a women’s prison experience and make it entertaining, heartwarming, and informative at the same time. It may not have all the answers to viewers’ questions on true prison life, but it points those who are curious in the right direction, especially in its introduction of “for-profit” prisons as a character or its own. Ultimately, season 3 initiated the survey into the privately owned prison industrial complex, and hopefully season 4 will allow viewers to explore the deep-seeded ramifications of an incarcerated state.
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Ziwe resides in New York City. She started writing at Northwestern University where she studied film, African-American studies, and poetry. Currently, she’s acclimating to having adult responsibilities, like feeding herself. When she’s not watching TV, she spends her time staring out the window and thinking about chows.
