It has been over 90 days since the coronavirus pandemic began infecting our communities, disproportionately killing our people, exacerbating Black grief and disrupting the traditions of how we collectively mourn. The city is eagerly returning to business as usual as leaders have begun to move quickly to disperse federal resources and care to areas that went far too long without, setting testing sites up in areas that had none at the beginning of the local outbreak and supporting local food banks.
Unfortunately, there is little to report on how people detained in jails and detention centers will be cared for. Across the nation, jails and detention centers are hot zones for COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus. The physical impossibility of social distancing and the higher risk of exposure, as correctional officers and other staff frequently leave the facility and then return, put those who are detained at a much greater risk of contracting the virus.
The spread of the virus is not strictly confined to the walls of these facilities either. Jails and correctional facilities pose a threat to the general public as well. In Cook County, Illinois, a peer-reviewed analysis, published online by the journal Health Affairs, shows that COVID-19 case rates were significantly higher in ZIP codes with higher rates of arrest and released jail detainees. While I cannot simply infer causality, it is a reasonable assumption that people who are detained in a jail with the highest total number of cases of any single-site in the entire country may contribute to community spread once released.
How does this apply to St. Louis? It’s hard to say because of the grave lack of transparency from city leadership on plans to address COVID-19 in the city’s jails or the number of cases that have been identified.
Long before St. Louis Mayor Lyda Krewson declared a public health emergency and limited public gatherings to prevent the spread of coronavirus, the City of St. Louis had a public health crisis of its own. The city’s history of racist and discriminatory policies has put our communities at a disadvantage. The continued divestment from community wellness and investment in police and jails, like the St. Louis Workhouse, render our disadvantaged communities unwell and vulnerable to criminalization. Closing the workhouse is a long overdue public health response.
The Workhouse is notorious for holding captive innocent people as 99% of people in the workhouse wait up to 250 days before being seen by a judge. Many of those incarcerated are from some of the areas that the city neglects, which are some of the same areas that have been hit the hardest by COVID-19.
Local activists and organizers, like the Close the Workhouse campaign and The Bail Project, have been pushing for the jail to be closed for years now. There is a reasonable demand being made: invest the $16 million of taxpayer money that keeps the Workhouse in operation into community wellness supports like economic and educational opportunities, affordable housing, community-based safety measures, pretrial services, and mental healthcare. The millions of dollars spent on the workhouse could improve the quality of life of those who are unfairly and disproportionately impacted.
Thanks to the work of local activists, the number of people at the Workhouse is steadily decreasing, meaning the Workhouse could be closed immediately. However, Jimmy Edwards, the St. Louis Public Safety director, claims that there will be a spike in crime and believes that is reason enough to keep the facility open.
The Workhouse does not keep the city safe from crime. Public safety means closing the workhouse.
Keeping the Workhouse open does not keep the people of St. Louis safe. The Workhouse has removed not a single violent police officer. The Workhouse does not offer accountability or support for survivors. The Workhouse does not address the root causes of systemic oppression that drives violence like poverty, addiction, homelessness, and lack of mental healthcare.
When I joined the Close the Workhouse campaign as a volunteer organizer, it was the summer before I began the Master of Public Health program at the Brown School at Washington University in St. Louis. I joined the campaign with a solid understanding of the deleterious effects of incarceration on public health, communities, and individuals. I felt proud to be part of a team that understood the same.
It is no coincidence that the face of the campaign, Inez Bordeaux, is also a nurse, just like me. Inez’s profession as a nurse led her to the Close the Workhouse campaign. In addition to her own personal experience of being incarcerated in the Workhouse, she is a healer. The oppression communities are burdened with by the mere existence and function of the Workhouse organizes and distributes trauma therefore making healing a political act. Inez and the Close the Workhouse campaign are working to heal St. Louis and bring justice to public health. Justice in public health means closing the Workhouse.
The city is proposing to cut the Workhouse’s budget by roughly half, to about $8.8 million. That would be a step in the right direction if the city were not also cutting $1 million from the Affordable Housing Trust Fund. Krewson said that with limited resources “tough decisions” had to be made. If Krewson thinks providing affordable housing is a “tough decision” it’s no wonder that she has not made it a public health priority. Activists, and organizers have campaigned for years, providing input and offering solutions, like closing the Workhouse so that defunding affordable housing does not have to be a “tough decision.” Decreasing the budget for the Workhouse is a kind gesture but not what this city needs. The Workhouse needs to be completely defunded.
In addition to the legacy of racist policies that leave our communities in distress, Black communities have suffered financial neglect. The city budget prioritizes incarceration over community wellness. As a result, Black communities have succumbed to various vulnerabilities in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. By keeping the Workhouse open, the city is not only putting innocent incarcerated people at risk for contracting and possibly dying from COVID-19, the city also is failing at ethical public health practices.
The fiscal year in St. Louis begins on July 1. There is still time to stand on the right side of justice. There is still time for Mayor Krewson to defund the workhouse. There is still time to demand that elected officials invest in community well-being.
Brittany Ferrell, MPH, RN, is a national organizer and policy associate at Black Futures Lab, a volunteer organizer with Close the Workhouse and lead organizer at Action St. Louis.
