How do you budget on a couple hundred dollars or less a month of income?

That’s a question most people in prison have to ask themselves. The vast majority of prison jobs pay an hourly wage of cents on the dollar — and several states pay nothing. 

Tight budgets are a fact of life in prison. Learning to stretch earnings and finding other ways to pad your income, via side hustles and family support, are an important part of surviving behind bars. 

To get a better sense of what the finances of incarcerated people look like, Prison Journalism Project asked three writers to record a typical month’s budget . You’ll see from the results below how important extra sources of income beyond a job are, and just how expensive it is to be cash poor in prison.  

— PJP Editors

For my side hustle, I sell what are called food boxes — a collection of commissary items I have already purchased that I then bundle together and sell to other people at a higher cost (usually at a 25% markup). 

My other income comes from formal jobs. For nearly two years, I have worked as a peer support specialist, a programs clerk and a peer facilitator. In these roles, I am in charge of creating and facilitating self-improvement and reentry class for my peers; organizing the calendar and schedule of events; orchestrating fundraisers; meeting with prison administration for town hall meetings; conducting one-on-one peer mentorship to those who struggle with various issues of confinement or need assistance filling out forms or preparing for release; and any additional tasks assigned by my boss, the prison counselor and programs coordinator.

I use an Excel spreadsheet to balance my budget to see what money is coming in and how much is going out, making sure I do not overspend or sell too many commissary items. When I sell too many of the food boxes, I can end up without food for half a week.

My biggest sacrifice is when others ask to borrow commissary products. I have to rely on them to pay me back on time.

My mom has been my biggest and only outside supporter. Without her, school would be really tough because I need food to support my brain. And her financial help partially funds my food package hustle. Also, shoutout to PJP, whose story honorariums are a huge pick-me-up when I need extra money to treat myself.

— Chastyn Hicks, Arizona

I have been working as the chapel and barbershop clerk at Prairie du Chien Correctional Institution for four months now. I ensure my peers are scheduled to attend their haircut appointments and religious services. I also prepare the chapel for different events. 

The pay isn’t great, but the job keeps me busy. I use the pay to stretch out the money my family sends to support me and the occasional payment for my writing. But with how high prices for goods are right now, my family hasn’t been able to send as much. 

I limit my commissary purchases to around $10 a week. That way, if this system works perfectly, I can stretch $100 across nearly three months. 

Of course, unexpected costs come up. My headphones break or the prison announces a fundraiser. When that happens, I limit my spending further. The only thing I don’t limit is my hygiene products. Soaps and dental health take precedent over everything else.

— Nathan Gray, Wisconsin

The Alabama Department of Corrections doesn’t pay prison laundry workers like me. They only pay for prison jobs that make the state a profit, like commissary or industry workers. Maintenance, laundry and kitchen jobs are done by unpaid labor. I’ve been an unpaid laundry worker for 21 years and operate the washing machines, loading and unloading clothes.

I take advantage of my prison job in other ways though, by washing personal bags of clothes separately from the general laundry loads. Men will pay me a pack of Top roll-your-own tobacco, with a value of $3.34, to wash, dry, press and fold their clothes; this keeps my customers’ clothes from washing with the entire unit’s laundry. In a recent month, I made the equivalent of $267.20. I also contribute stories to PJP; my most recent quarterly honorarium was $85.

Over the last month, I watched a couple of movies and used the video chat app on my electronic tablet to talk to my sister and see her new grandbaby. We don’t have personal cable, but I did spend just over $50 on a new pair of shoes I needed. I bought them from another man in the prison who had obtained them from the infirmary.

I also spent around $26 on e-messages and phone calls this past month from my personal account. My mother puts money on her phone account, so I can stay in touch without paying for those calls. And I have a friend, Kelly, who puts around $40 a month on my phone account so I can make other calls.

My family could probably send me money, but I know it would run them short so I don’t ask. I would like to help my family financially, but I need the money for myself right now. 

My family helps me with one clothing package a year and a $50 food package at Christmas. My sales and purchases mostly come from the barter system, where I’ll trade this or that for things that I need, such as store goods, food, cosmetics and shoes. If I didn’t have this, then I would be totally dependent on the state prison system, where sometimes you don’t get enough to eat and go hungry, or go without deodorant, shampoo or other hygiene products. Here, you are only given one bar of state soap, a small tube of toothpaste and a roll of tissue a week. Should you need shoes, they’ll issue you a hard pair of boots once a year.

— Richard “Corey” Fox, Alabama