Well into September, heat remains an unavoidable aspect of life behind bars. Current and former Learning+ students Brian Quintanilla, Falicia Blakely and Shajiyah X. Iman wrote about the heat conditions in their respective prisons, and how they cope.
The excerpts below come from their dispatches about record high temperatures in California, a misguided offer to help someone in the middle of a heat wave in Georgia, and the welcome advent of air conditioning in the Arizona desert.
They have been lightly edited for length and clarity.
— PJP Editors
Years in the Low Desert Without AC
By Brian Quintanilla, writing from California
It is a scorching afternoon, the kind where sweat dries the moment your pores release it. When I step outside, the air feels like steam hitting my face.
Ironwood State Prison is in Blythe, California, approximately 200 miles east of Los Angeles and 170 miles west of Phoenix. Locals have a colorful nickname for this area: “The Devil’s Butthole.”
In this low-desert climate, summers are sweltering, with an average daily high of 100 degrees from May to September. Late summer also brings a muggier period during the Southwestern monsoon season.
In June 2016, Blythe hit a record high of 124 degrees Fahrenheit. At that time, many 4-by-5-foot cells housing two men had neither a window nor air conditioning. Ironwood made use of swamp coolers instead.
Swamp coolers use evaporation rather than refrigerant and need fresh-air circulation, which is scarce in prison. Through late September, our cells would rise to between 80 degrees and 90 degrees.
I have had many restless summer nights, when a river of sweat formed on my bunk. Within a month, white boxers would yellow at the waist from constant sweating. Any deodorant dripped down your side shortly after it was applied.
After years of grievances, California’s state prison allocated funds for air conditioning at the two prisons in Blythe. Now the buildings, dining halls and cells are between 70 and 75 degrees. The temperature feels great, but the heat in the low desert is always intense, and temperatures everywhere are only getting worse.
Blistering Heat in a Lockdown Dorm
By Falicia Blakely, writing from Georgia
With my back hunched and arms stretched out in front of me, I wrestle a full laundry cart uphill toward the lockdown dorm. It is 98 degrees, about 14 degrees warmer than the average summer day in the Georgia mountains. No laughter drifts on the breeze. No ball games fill the yard. The only movement is offenders being escorted by guards.
I stop the cart and wait as the officer escorting us radios to be let in. As we enter, I glance at the girl in handcuffs beside me. She is headed to lockdown from the honor dorm, a practically unheard-of move.
Her gray shorts show a dark trail of sweat down the back, her glasses are fogged and her blonde hair is plastered to her head like a baby chick’s.
The air inside encases me like a damp blanket pressing hard against my chest. Every breath is like gulping steam, thick with the acrid stench of burned plastic — the distinct smell of synthetic cannabis compounds, more casually called K2.
People peer from the small openings in the heavy metal doors. Several call out as I pass, begging for favors. One asks the officer to conduct an ice call, where staff distribute ice to alleviate the heat. Another asks for something to eat.
The young lady and the officer mount the steps to the next level of the lockdown unit. I park the cart and start hauling one of the two blankets filled with all her property upstairs, cursing myself for volunteering to help.
“Lord, help me,” I whisper as I lean on the rail, hoping for a whiff of fresh air. I look up and see there aren’t fans mounted on the walls like in regular dorms. K2 smoke lingers in the air. I’m getting a headache. Leaving is the only thing on my mind.
From Swamp Coolers to Actually Cooler
By Shajiyah X. Iman, writing from Arizona
At my prison outside Phoenix, concrete walls trap heat, making it difficult to breathe or focus. My energy is quickly diminished, and it is easy to become depressed and irritated.
In the past, each cell had swamp coolers, which can only do so much against desert heat. It didn’t help that many of them were broken most of the time. I’d sometimes sleep on the concrete floor because it was at least a few degrees cooler down there.
Arizona Department of Corrections, Rehabilitation and Reentry Director Ryan Thornell promised to bring air conditioning to all Arizona prisons. During his first summer as director in 2023, we got misting systems and awnings, and officers were required to provide us with ice.
The year after that, they installed air conditioners in two of Perryville’s housing units. In 2024, Phoenix had a record-breaking 113 consecutive days at or above 100 degrees.
Now that all the housing units have air conditioning, life is a little easier at Perryville. Our cells stay around 80 degrees, which is quite cold for us here in the desert. This is especially meaningful at a facility with a notorious reputation for heat deaths.
Going for a morning walk — a favorite pastime of mine — is easier knowing I have a cool cell to go back to. We can sleep through summer nights, there is less anger and less violence, our mental anguish is slightly reduced and we can stay clean all day without perpetually sweating.
