“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’” (Matthew 25:44-45)
The hunger of our neighbors, near and far, is apparent to anyone who is looking. From reports of widespread famine in Sudan and Gaza, to disruptions in food assistance programs in every state of this nation. People are going hungry. But what if I told you there was a group of nearly two million people nationwide who are systemically being denied access to adequate food, and almost no one is talking about it?
The U.S. incarcerates more people per capita than any of our peers. Despite the tough-on-crime adage that prisoners enjoy “three hots and a cot” during their time behind bars, this paints far too rosy a picture of the ultra-processed foods available. Jesse Milo, who is currently housed at San Quentin, said, “The tray reflects how society views us, and when the food looks disgusting and inedible, it sends the message that that’s what we are.”
Aside from the often meager portions, it is not uncommon for prisoners to be served food that has gone bad or is infested with maggots. The vast majority of formerly incarcerated people say they could not eat enough to feel full, and many displayed trauma-induced eating disorders such as binging or hoarding once released. Some estimates suggest that at least half of all folks who are serving time suffer from at least one chronic health condition, many of which can be linked back to poor diet.
I will never forget the day one of my incarcerated clients was diagnosed by the prison medical unit with cardiovascular disease. My client was provided with pamphlets about a healthy diet, which encouraged them to avoid processed foods and eat as much fresh produce as possible. My client never saw fresh food. A prison volunteer I spoke to recently described an opportunity where his group was able to take catered food in for a special event at the prison — and a prisoner who he was eating with told him that he had not seen a grape in over a decade.
A Christmas tree stands in the hallway of a prison in Bielefeld, Germany, on Dec. 21, 2022. (Friso Gentsch/dpa/Alamy Live News)
Across the U.S., there is no set standard or mandate to govern the food that is served within carceral institutions, so there is little recourse for those inside. This is especially problematic as feeding folks in prisons and jails has become a private industry, and a profitable one. Teri Castle, who is currently incarcerated at Lakin Correctional in West Virginia, said it well: “They are more interested in making and saving money than they are in the health of the people eating that food.”
In her essay “History is a Weapon,” Angela Davis wrote, “Prisons do not disappear problems, they disappear human beings.” The people who we lock away in prisons are not removed from our communities just because we choose not to see them.
In the parable above, Jesus did not give people who hadn’t helped those in prison an out simply because they did not see them. As Christians, we are called not to look away from suffering but to turn towards it and to ease it if we can, even if only by our presence. Is this not why God sent God’s only Son?
Sophie Day, MSW, is a lifelong member of the Episcopal Church and works with legal teams who represent men and women on death row in their final appeals.
NOTE: This is part of our Unsettling Advent devotionals running Nov. 30-Dec. 24. You can subscribe for free and receive them each morning in your inbox.
