Chains of the Past: How Texas Built Its Prison Empire on Slavery and Segregation
Texas’s prison system didn’t emerge in a vacuum—it was built atop the foundations of slavery, segregation, and racialized punishment. The state’s earliest carceral institutions mirrored plantation life, with incarcerated Black men forced to labor in fields under brutal conditions1.
Convict leasing, a post-Civil War practice, allowed private companies to “lease” incarcerated individuals—mostly Black men—for labor. These men were often arrested under vague laws targeting Black communities, then subjected to inhumane working conditions with little oversight. The system was so deadly that some historians call it “slavery by another name.”2
Texas’s prison farms, including the infamous Sugar Land facility—originally known as the Imperial State Prison Farm—operated like plantations well into the 20th century.3 Incarcerated individuals worked cotton fields, harvested sugarcane, and lived in barracks that resembled slave quarters. In 2018, construction crews unearthed the remains of 95 individuals believed to be victims of the convict leasing system, buried in unmarked graves on the former prison land. The discovery sparked public outcry and led to the creation of the Sugar Land 95 Memorial Project, overseen by the Texas Historical Commission.4 The legacy of these practices persists in today’s prison labor system, where unpaid or underpaid labor remains common.
Segregation shaped prison policies for decades. Black and white prisoners were housed separately, received different work assignments, and faced unequal treatment. Even after formal desegregation, racial disparities in discipline, sentencing, and parole decisions continued.
The Texas prison system also drew inspiration from other Southern models, including Louisiana’s Angola Prison, which itself was built on a former plantation.5 These cross-state influences helped normalize the use of racialized labor and harsh punishment as tools of control.
Today, echoes of these practices remain. Prison labor continues under the guise of “rehabilitation,” but incarcerated individuals often work without pay or protections.6 Racial disparities persist in incarceration rates, solitary confinement, and parole outcomes.
Texas’s carceral history is inseparable from its racial history. Understanding this legacy is essential to confronting the present-day realities of mass incarceration—and to imagining a future rooted in truth, accountability, and repair.
If Texas built its prison empire on the bones of slavery, Alabama refined the blueprint. Both states weaponized convict leasing to resurrect forced labor, targeting Black communities through vague laws and brutal sentencing. The systems weren’t identical—but they were aligned.
As we shift from Texas to Alabama, we move deeper into the Southern strategy of racialized punishment. Alabama’s story is not a mirror—it’s a magnifying glass. It reveals how carceral design evolved from plantation logic to prison policy, and how the echoes of that design still shape lives today.
From Plantation to Prison: Tracing the Racial Roots of Alabama’s Carceral System
Alabama’s prison system is steeped in a history of racial control and exploitation. After the Civil War, the state quickly adopted convict leasing—a system that replaced slavery with a new form of forced labor. Black men were arrested under discriminatory laws and leased to private companies for work in mines, railroads, and farms. Conditions were brutal, and death rates were high.7
Jim Crow laws further entrenched racial disparities. Black Alabamians faced harsher sentences, were more likely to be incarcerated, and endured systemic abuse within prison walls. The state’s carceral policies reflected a broader strategy of racial subjugation.
During the Jim Crow era, Alabama’s prison system became a tool of racial terror. Black individuals were disproportionately targeted by vagrancy laws, loitering statutes, and other vague offenses designed to criminalize poverty and Blackness.8 These laws fed a pipeline into forced labor camps, where prisoners worked under threat of violence and death.
The state’s prison farms operated like plantations, with incarcerated Black men toiling in fields from sunrise to sunset. Whippings, shackling, and other forms of corporal punishment were common. The goal was not rehabilitation—it was control.
Alabama’s infamous Atmore and Kilby prisons became symbols of this brutality. Reports from the early 20th century describe overcrowded conditions, rampant abuse, and a complete disregard for human dignity.9 These institutions were not anomalies—they were reflections of a system designed to dehumanize.
Even after formal desegregation, racial disparities persisted. Black Alabamians continued to face longer sentences, higher rates of solitary confinement, and systemic barriers to parole. The legacy of Jim Crow did not end—it evolved.
Today, the echoes of this history remain. Data shows that Black individuals in Alabama are disproportionately sentenced to long prison terms and are overrepresented in solitary confinement and death row populations.10
The connection between past and present is clear: Alabama’s prison system was designed to control Black bodies, and that design continues to shape outcomes.
By tracing these historical patterns, we can better understand the roots of today’s crisis—and begin to imagine a future built on justice rather than punishment.
Note on Convict Leasing Across States
Both Texas and Alabama relied heavily on convict leasing after the Civil War, transforming slavery into a new form of racialized labor. In both states, Black men were disproportionately targeted by discriminatory laws and forced into brutal working conditions under private contracts. These systems were not isolated—they were part of a broader Southern strategy to maintain white supremacy and economic control through carceral means. The legacy of convict leasing continues to shape prison labor practices and racial disparities in both states today.
Endnotes
1. TSHA Handbook. Convict Lease System. https://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/entries/convict-lease-system
2. Texas Observer. Prison Plantations. https://www.texasobserver.org/texas-prison-plantations/
3. Texas Standard. Texas’ Plantation Prisons: Inside a 200-Year History of Forced Labor. https://www.texasstandard.org/stories/texas-plantation-prisons-history-forced-labor-tdcj-farms-convict-leasing/
4. Texas State Library Archives. Convict Leasing and State Account Farming. https://www.tsl.texas.gov/exhibits/prisons/convictlease/page2.html
5. Worth Rises. Prison Labor in Agriculture. https://worthrises.org/blogpost/2025/6/18/prison-labor-in-agriculture-people-in-prison-are-picking-cotton-on-former-plantations-in-dangerous-conditions-for-no-pay
6. Texas State Library Archives. Convict Leasing and State Account Farming. https://www.tsl.texas.gov/exhibits/prisons/convictlease/page2.html
7. Encyclopedia of Alabama. Convict-Lease System. https://encyclopediaofalabama.org/article/convict-lease-system/
8. Library of Congress. Convict Leasing System. https://blogs.loc.gov/inside_adams/2021/06/convict-leasing-system/
9. National Park Service. Alabama Penitentiary: Prison Labor Before and After the Civil War. https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/alabama-penitentiary-prison-labor-before-and-after-the-civil-war-teaching-with-historic-places.htm
10. Alabama Appleseed. New DOJ Report Shows Incarceration Has Increased in Alabama With No Evidence of Public Safety Benefits. https://alabamaappleseed.org/author/eddie-burkhalter/new-justice-department-report-shows-incarceration-has-increased-in-alabama-with-no-evidence-of-public-safety-benefits/
On (In)justice 