“Blackness as Contraband: The Criminalization of Black Culture Behind Prison Walls”

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By Chaddrick Thomas


They don’t just lock our bodies behind bars.

They lock away our books, our hair grease, our music, our memories, our children’s photos—

our culture.


In prison, being Black isn’t just your identity.

It’s treated as a threat.

And for decades, the system has been carefully designed to erase, restrict, or reinterpret Blackness as criminality.

From the Plantation to the Prison Block: A Legacy of Policing Culture


Let’s be clear—this didn’t start in the prison system.

  • It started on the auction blocks, when Black skin was commodified.

  • It evolved on the plantations, where slaveowners outlawed drumming, literacy, and African dialects—calling them “dangerous.”

  • It was encoded into Black Codes and Jim Crow laws that made “loitering,” “vagrancy,” or “talking back” criminal if you were Black.

  • And it lives on today in prison policies that say a child’s peace sign in a photo is a gang gesture.


This isn’t about safety.

This is about control.

Books Denied, Knowledge Denied


You try to order a book about Malcolm X, Assata Shakur, Angela Davis, or Black history in general…

And it gets rejected.


“Promotes racial division.”
“Gang-related.”
“Threat to safety and security.”


Meanwhile, entire prison libraries carry white supremacist literature, European war memoirs, and books glorifying violence—as long as it doesn’t challenge authority.


Let that sink in:

A book about Black liberation is considered contraband in the land of free speech.

Hair Grease as a Weapon? Seriously?


In high-security prisons, even basic hygiene products are restricted—especially Black ones.


Hair grease. Cocoa butter. Wave caps.

They say these can be used for violence.


“They might smear grease on themselves to resist extraction.”


Let’s talk about that.


You’re afraid we might resist being beaten—so you ban the very product that helps us feel clean and human?


That’s not about security.

That’s about preserving the power dynamic—and criminalizing even the smallest act of self-love in Black skin.

Photos Denied—Because Black Joy Looks Dangerous



I’ve seen family photos rejected because a toddler held up a peace sign.

A 3-year-old Black girl smiling with her fingers in the air—labeled as “gang-affiliated.”


Meanwhile, white residents can receive pictures from hunting trips with rifles in hand.


So again, the message is clear:


Our joy, our gestures, our families—are a threat.


Not because of what they do.

But because of who we are.

The Psychological Toll of Cultural Erasure


When you can’t read your own history…

Can’t wear your own hair…

Can’t receive your child’s photo…

Can’t speak your truth…


You begin to disappear.


That’s not rehabilitation.

That’s erasure.

That’s psychological warfare masked as policy.

What Needs to Change?


Let’s stop pretending these are neutral rules.

These policies are built on the same foundation that made Blackness suspicious, threatening, and punishable in every generation.


So here’s what we need:


1. 

Policy Reform

  • Create review boards that include outside cultural experts to assess banned literature and media.

  • Require cultural bias training for mailroom and property staff.

  • Repeal “contraband” policies that target culturally specific products (e.g., hair grease, head wraps).


2. 

Cultural Access as Rehabilitation

  • Make Black literature, history, and expression a core part of programming.

  • Normalize cultural pride—not just compliance.

  • Hire more educators and facilitators from impacted communities.


3. 

Legislative Oversight

  • Lawmakers must investigate how race factors into prison policy enforcement.

  • Transparency must be demanded in mailroom and property denial procedures.


4. 

Litigation and Legal Support

  • Support legal challenges that connect these policies to First and Fourteenth Amendment violations.

  • Highlight these cases in media to change public perception.

Final Word: We’re Not the Threat—The System Is


Black culture has always been powerful.

That’s why they fear it.

Because it reminds us of who we are—not just who they want us to be.


We are not a threat for loving ourselves.

We are not criminals for knowing our history.

We are not “dangerous” because our children hold up peace signs in photos.


And until the system stops treating Blackness as a contraband item,

true justice will always be out of reach.


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