Summary: 4. The Cruel Hand

This chapter outlines how the system of mass incarceration continues to adversely affect African Americans after they are released from prison.

Despite slavery and Jim Crow laws no longer existing, African Americans and people of color who have been labeled “felons” may feel that these systems are still commonplace. Discrimination against felons is legal and widespread. Felons are banned from jobs, housing, social services, welfare benefits, and most significantly, voting. Although not overtly racist, in practice, it has a racial element, because of the numbers of Black and brown men who are swept into the judicial system on minor drug offenses. The system processes them and sends them back labeled as felons. Before prison, they might have been able to argue against employment or housing discrimination. After prison, the law can openly discriminate based on “status” rather than “race.” It is Jim Crow disguised by legalese.

Even those defendants who plea bargain their way out of a prison term find themselves labeled criminals. Many of these people were caught in the dragnet of the War on Drugs and arrested for possession of small amounts of drugs. Now, the system has ensnared them for what may be the rest of their lives. Life on the inside may look easier in comparison given the many legal roadblocks placed in front of felons trying to rebuild their lives. Unable to find housing, find employment, or keep a job when barred from driving, many ex-offenders find themselves back in prison. 

One of the main roadblocks to reintegrating into society for ex-offenders is housing. If they do not have family to return to, it can be difficult to find housing that will accept them. Section 8 housing which subsidizes rent for low-income people will not cover ex-offenders. Over the years, anti-drug legislation authorized public housing agencies to ban drug offenders, and anyone believed to be using illegal drugs. A lack of housing can cause a domino effect of outcomes. Entire families, dependent on a parent for housing, could be part of an eviction, and end up homeless. Once homeless, employment can be lost, thus continuing the downward spiral. Instead of helping ex-offenders reintegrate into society and become contributors to society, the system again relegates them to the sidelines. 

Jobs in impoverished neighborhoods in the US are already difficult to find for young African Americans and people of color. High rates of unemployment are the main reason so many turn to selling illegal drugs in the first place. Instead of addressing the real problems of unemployment, society allows these young men to be arrested. When they return, labeled “felons,” it becomes even harder to find employment. Many states require parolees to maintain employment but do little to help them find any. 

Work is considered an important part of one’s self-image. Studies have shown that men deprived of the means to support oneself are prone to depression and violence. Society did not prepare many of these men well for life to begin with. Most are high school dropouts. Some are illiterate. Desperate, many of them return to selling drugs, the very thing that landed them in prison in the first place. 

Efforts to help Black ex-offenders find jobs have focused on eliminating the question of felon status on job applications. Measures have been passed in a few cities outlawing the question. However, this “banning the box” does not rule out discrimination based on other factors like race, low education level, or gaps in work history that might also be used to exclude ex-offenders. Inherent racism born of associating Black men with crime arguably makes it difficult for all African Americans to successfully find work. Many employers may look at all Black men as potential ex-offenders, even if a “felon” box is not on an application.

Lack of employment also affects the ability of ex-offenders to pay fees associated with mass incarceration. The War on Drugs already targets poor neighborhoods. When ex-offenders leave prison, they are most likely not returning to a high-paying job. As the system provides few rehabilitative options, the likelihood of returning to selling drugs only increases. If they are not arrested for selling drugs, they may return to prison because of unpaid fees. In some situations, the ex-offender could then work within the prison to work off the debts. This mirrors the post-Civil War era system of convict leasing, or indentured servitude.

Ex-offenders also cannot depend on help from the government. Welfare was heavily reduced during the Clinton administration in 1996. The revision under the new legislation Temporary Assistance for Needy Family Program (TANF) limited a person to only five years of benefits. Felons convicted of drug crimes are denied any federal public assistance. 

Continuing the process of marginalization from society, drug-crime felons are not allowed to vote in prison. This status extends to when they leave prison. Ex-offenders have no way to make politicians responsive to their situations. Even those eligible to have their voting rights reinstated find it difficult to do so. In some cases, ex-offenders are required to pay fines before they can again be allowed to vote. If unemployed, it can be difficult to pay the fine. In this way, it is similar to a poll tax or a literacy test, as employed by states during Jim Crow. Given their treatment by the government, many ex-offenders also remain concerned that the government would target them if they registered to vote. 

In addition, there is also the social stigma of being an ex-offender. There is no need for racial slurs any longer. Society just calls someone a “felon” and his or her life is forever a struggle. Some people worry that for people in the poor neighborhoods, ravaged by War on Drugs, prison time has become a badge of honor. Studies show that these communities also feel shame. It is almost worse today than when people were openly discriminated against under Jim Crow. At least under Jim Crow, when Black men experienced racism in the outside world, they could return to their communities for support. Nowadays, an ex-offender returns from prison and not only experiences legal discrimination in all facets of life, but experiences shame on the part of his community and family.

The system of mass incarceration is built on the racist idea that Black men are inherently criminal. This idea lands them in prison and governs their lives outside prison. With low expectations for young Black men in their communities, they often fail to perform well. Instead of stigmatizing these young men, and assuming they will turn to gangs and violence, Americans should work to help them re-enter society and create meaningful lives. Truly breaking the cycle would involve acknowledging that people in these impoverished communities are humans deserving of greater investment. American society would have no need for a War on Drugs if it chose to tackle the root reason behind it, which is racism. 

Analysis: 4. The Cruel Hand

To frame her discussion of the lifelong ramifications of being a part of the criminal caste, Alexander again explores how white ideas of Black Americans have, throughout history, prevented true freedom. In the wake of the Emancipation, slavery lived on, as every Black person was still considered a slave and had no way of defending themselves in the court of law. Then, under Jim Crow, though Black people were living “free,” white prejudice prevented them from sharing public spaces with white people, pushing back against white misperceptions, or defending themselves against white violence. The ramifications of being part of the criminal caste are surprisingly similar to many of the worst parts of slavery and Jim Crow, including being forced into unpaid labor in prison, being unable to argue about racial discrimination in courts, and being denied the markers of full citizenship and personhood, such as the ability to vote, serve on a jury, obtain a decent job, and secure a home. Alexander suggests that Black people have, for the past 400 years, existed as second-class citizens in America, not because of any inherent inferiority or illicit behavior but because they are perceived as criminals in the white imagination.

When a culture is steeped in race-neutral language and the ethos of colorblindness, it takes forceful language and repetition to breakthrough given narratives. Alexander’s intense language and use of repetition in this chapter serve just that purpose. She heightens her descriptions of the effects of the criminal justice system on those trapped within it, calling the impact brutal and debilitating, the reality of the system bleak, the debt to society “never paid.” Alexander has already noted that the race-neutral language has a powerful effect and is able to shut race out of many legal conversations entirely. By countering that silence with descriptions that honor the devastating effects of systemic racism, Alexander creates the space for a different story to be told. She also repeats various ideas again and again, using similar language, such as the idea that a brush with the criminal justice system can “impact you for the rest of your life.” Given that every American reader will have inherited ideas about Black Americans, the effect of Alexander’s heightened language and repetition is to begin to counter engrained ideas with more accurate, less prejudiced ones.

By detailing the myriad ways that people trapped within the criminal justice system are denied housing, jobs, and civic participation, Alexander mirrors the sense of hopelessness and frustration many Black Americans feel. Alexander begins with the moment someone leaves prison and illustrates how punitive post-release restrictions are and how much the odds are stacked against them. Going back and forth between explorations of harsh federal policies like One Strike You’re Out and individual stories that capture the lived experience of such policies, Alexander creates a full picture of the criminal caste system. Far from being restricted to felonies, these policies impact people who opted for a plea bargain, were merely arrested but never charged, and others who have never committed a crime, and it bears repeating that they disproportionately affect Black Americans. Alexander emphasizes that even “innocents,” such as a grandmother whose caregiver, unbeknownst to her, brings drugs into her public housing unit, can be evicted and end up on the streets. By highlighting how these “tough on crime” policies can impact everyone, Alexander calls into question the legitimacy of the entire system. If even law-abiding citizens can have their lives upended by the War on Drugs, then the system is harming many of the people it is supposed to protect.

If prison time, lack of access to housing and jobs, and the inability to drive, vote, or serve on a jury were not enough to pay off one’s debt to society, on top of that, Alexander shows that serving prison time itself is expensive and lands people in additional debt. This punitive debt is another barrier to reentering mainstream society, suggesting that if one does everything else “right” after committing a crime and manages to get a home and a traditional job, they still face staggering fees, and failure to pay those fees can land them right back in prison. All of this taken together deftly illustrates how much more likely it is for someone, once entrenched within the criminal justice system, to opt for illegal sources of income. Above all, Alexander illustrates that the criminal justice system sets people up for failure.