by Kwaneta Harris
From behind these walls, we see what others cannot — or will not — see: the profound failure of prisons as an answer to society’s problems. As someone who has navigated this system, alongside countless abolitionists who have studied its machinery, I can attest that incarceration perpetuates rather than prevents harm.
Yet I find myself troubled when I hear my sisters inside cheering for someone who caused harm to join us in this misery. This reaction reveals how deeply we’ve internalized the punitive logic that keeps us all captive. When my neighbors inside ask what we’ll do with rapists and murderers without prisons, I respond with my own questions: Which rapists? Which murderers?
The military that decimates communities abroad? The guards who assault with impunity? The police who kill unarmed civilians? The pharmaceutical companies profiting from addiction? The health insurance corporations denying life-saving care? These entities harm thousands, sanctioned by the state, yet face no consequences. The selective application of “justice” exposes that prisons exist not to address harm, but to control specific populations.
Self-examination must be our starting point. What could have helped you? What resources, support, or intervention might have prevented the circumstances that brought you here? Most of us can identify moments where different community responses, economic opportunities, healthcare access, or trauma support could have altered our trajectories. This reflection isn’t about excusing harmful actions, but understanding that punishment after harm occurs does nothing to prevent it or heal those affected.
The carceral state stands upon several pillars that we, even from inside, can work to destabilize. The first pillar is legitimacy — the belief that prisons are necessary and effective. We can challenge this by documenting and sharing the realities of incarceration, writing to media outlets, participating in research studies, and maintaining connections with outside abolitionists who amplify our voices. Every testimony that reveals the truth of this system weakens its public support.
The second pillar is economic — prisons represent profitable ventures for corporations and governments alike. We can resist by refusing exploitative labor when possible, organizing work stoppages, boycotting commissary products from the worst corporate offenders, and educating ourselves about the financial structures that benefit from our captivity. By understanding who profits from our imprisonment, we identify our true opponents.
The third pillar is isolation — separating us from our communities and each other. Combat this through building solidarity across racial, ethnic and social divisions that the system deliberately fosters. Start study groups on abolition, share resources and support with fellow incarcerated people, maintain and strengthen connections with family and community members outside, and participate in collective grievance processes when rights are violated.
By understanding who profits from our imprisonment, we identify our true opponents.
For communities of color, immigrants, LGBTQ+ individuals, disabled people and the poor, dismantling the carceral state isn’t abstract theory — it’s survival. These systems disproportionately target and traumatize our communities, separating families, destabilizing neighborhoods and disrupting generations of potential.
The fourth pillar is the narrative that criminalizes marginalized populations. Counter this by developing political education programs inside, challenging dehumanizing language, sharing personal stories that complicate simplistic narratives about crime, and supporting initiatives that highlight the systemic factors leading to incarceration rather than individual moral failings.
Prison abolition recognizes that true safety comes not from isolation and punishment but from addressing root causes of harm: poverty, lack of healthcare, housing insecurity and untreated trauma. The punishment system constantly reminds us we are powerless, but this is its greatest lie.
Throughout history, the most significant social changes have come from those deemed least powerful. Our resistance matters — whether through hunger strikes that exposed torture in California prisons, class action lawsuits that forced healthcare reforms, or education programs that transformed lives despite institutional opposition. When we unite across the artificial divisions they create between us, recognizing our shared humanity and common struggle, we discover power they cannot contain.
We are not merely the captives of this system — we are its most knowledgeable critics and therefore its most formidable opponents. Together, we can dismantle these walls: not just the physical ones that confine us, but the conceptual ones that limit our collective imagination about what justice truly means.
Kwaneta Harris is a former nurse, business owner and expat, now an incarcerated journalist and Haymarket Writing Freedom Fellow. In her writing she illuminates how the experience of being incarcerated in the largest state prison in Texas is vastly different for women in ways that directly map onto a culture rooted in misogyny. Her stories expose how the intersection of gender, race and place contribute to state-sanctioned, gender-based violence. Harris’ writings have appeared in a wide range of publications including Solitary Watch, Cosmopolitan, Rolling Stone, The Marshall Project, Scalawag, Prism, The Appeal and Teen Vogue, among others. She writes on Substack at Write or Die. Find her online and social media: kwanetaharris.com, kwanetaharris.substack.com, instagram.com/kwanetaharris, bsky.app/profile/kwanetaharris.bsky.social, facebook.com/kwanetaharris and x.com/kwanetaharris.
