Whenever auditors come to South Central Correctional Facility, the Tennessee private prison where I’m currently incarcerated, they almost always remark on our miniyard. We seem to be the only facility that has one. Most prisoners across the state are never allowed to touch grass, and almost never allowed outdoors at all.
A prison’s big yard is like you see in the movies, with a dirt track going around the perimeter. Our miniyard is, as you might guess, smaller. Unlike the big yard, it’s right next to the living units. It’s divided in half by a fence that runs right through the middle of a basketball court, so each side becomes its own yard, with one hoop, for one living unit to access. The side our unit has access to is slightly bigger than a full-sized basketball court would be, but the rest of it is grass.
What’s special is that unlike the big yard, during daylight hours we’re able to go out into the miniyard more or less whenever we want, other than count times or during inclement weather. And we can touch the grass.
Filter spoke with prisoners who’d recently been housed at every adult correctional facility in the state except for Morgan County Correctional Complex and Debra K. Johnson Rehabilitation Center, and all said the miniyard is unique to South Central. At Riverbend Maximum Security Institution the big yard can function similarly to a miniyard for the minimum-security prisoners because it’s attached to their living unit, so they can walk out to it directly. But otherwise there’s nothing.
When everyone came back out from the lockdown, miniyard access was no more.
Two people who have been housed at South Central since the early 2000s told Filter that before 2007, there was no fence splitting the miniyard into two. In addition to the full basketball court, prisoners had access to a shared rec building with a library, ping pong table, weight deck and barbershop. That building is still there between the two units; it’s just not used for anything anymore.
In 2007, prisoners organized a sit-down protest over the food being served at the chow hall. After it turned into a riot, everyone was placed in an extended lockdown. When they were let out again, the fence dividing the miniyard in half was in place. This meant only 256 people could access the same area rather than 500 or so, but the shared rec building was still there and everything was otherwise the same as before.
In 2012, an officer was stabbed and there was another extended lockdown. When everyone came back out from that one, the rec building had been emptied and miniyard access was no more. So the only outdoor space was the big yard, which up until that point had been accessible three times a day. After 2012, yard call went down to once a day, or to zero if not enough officers show up to work.
Neither the 2007 nor 2012 lockdowns had anything to do with the miniyard; the sit-down began outside the chow hall, and the officer was stabbed in one of the living units. But despite our requests, the miniyard remained unused until the COVID-19 pandemic, when medical suggested that it would be safer to have us spend time outdoors than indoors.
Prisoners at Turney Center Industrial Complex haven’t had outdoor recreation in more than a year.
To call prisoners out to the big yard, two officers generally have to be available to stand out there and supervise, plus a third to drive around the perimeter. Over the years as the understaffing crisis has worsened, yard call is often the first thing to go. Without access to a miniyard, this essentially means no time outdoors.
Prisoners recently incarcerated at Trousdale Turner Correctional Center, one of the three Tennessee facilities besides South Central that’s privately operated by CoreCivic, said yard is typically called just once or twice a week. As of early April, Turney Center Industrial Complex hadn’t had yard call in more than a year. The only chance to breathe fresh air is if walking to and from the chow hall, or to and from work for those whose jobs require that.
Not touching the grass is something that’s strictly enforced at every big yard in the state, including ours. And when walking anywhere on the compound, you can’t step off the walkways. I have on multiple occasions seen three or four officers tackle someone who had stepped on the grass.
A decade ago at a different facility, I once spotted some wild onions growing near the walkway and dared to reach down and pluck some. An officer came running at me and told me to empty my pockets. When he saw they contained “weeds,” he ordered me to take off my pants and hand them over. Humiliated, I walked back to my unit in my underwear.
Most if not all the state-run prisons already have physical spaces like our miniyard; they’re just fenced off.
In addition to the joy of touching grass, I cannot tell you the joy it’s brought me to brighten my diet with clover and dandelion from the miniyard. South Central does not serve fruit and rarely serves vegetables, at least not ones that humans should be expected to eat, but dandelions are a complete protein packed with the vitamins we’re sorely missing. I’ve incorporated them into many of my favorite recipes made with commissary items. The roots are delicious when quick-pickled in hot vinegar and water. I also dry the roots to make tea that settles my stomach, and add the flowers when making commissary-packet lemonade.
This spring the miniyard even yielded some wild onions and garlic, and this time I was able to harvest them. I dried them on the windowsill of my cell before placing them in peanut butter jars that now line my desk. Growing up, my mother kept our cellar shelves stocked with roots and leaves and bulbs she had foraged for curing various ailments. Our cellar looked like a witch’s pantry. Among the dried cattails and pine needles and jars of jam, there would also be dandelions and wild onions and garlic. The jars on my desk remind me of home.
The solution to soaring commissary prices and the inedible fare in the chow hall is not to have prisoners forage for weeds. But the ability to not only see grass, but touch it, makes a world of difference for our mental health. Which in turn makes things easier on staff, when the population they manage isn’t in a 24/7 pressure cooker. Prison cells have windows, but you can’t open them. Other parts of a facility typically have no view of the outside at all, like being in a casino.
Most if not all the state-run prisons already have physical spaces like our miniyard; they’re just fenced off. The three other CoreCivic prisons are designed with as little outdoor access as possible, but it wouldn’t take much to create something similar. Especially if there aren’t enough staff to take prisoners to the big yard, a miniyard benefits everyone.
Image (cropped) via Illinois Department of Corrections
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