During a brief stint in the D.C. Jail, Ivory Haight remembers one woman in particular—not by name, but for her relentless requests for food.

“This one lady always wanted your food,” says Haight, 40, who cycled in and out of local lockups beginning when she was 16.

At meal times, when the woman would come by begging for what little food Haight had on her own tray, she admits that she was tempted to use violence to put a stop to it. Tensions are already high in the jail, Haight says, and it doesn’t take much to set someone off. The poor quality and small amount of food only worsens the situation, she says.

“It never came to that because she saw my attitude, and real recognize real,” Haight says. “So she didn’t come my way with that drama anymore. Thank god for that.” 

Haight eventually learned that the woman was only living off of the meals provided by the Department of Corrections and couldn’t afford to purchase extra food at the commissary like others often did. After that, she softened a bit and befriended the woman, Haight says, adding that eating from the commissary is a necessity for survival inside the D.C. Jail.

“Every day they fought over food. Everyone’s mad because there’s nothing to eat,” she says. “We’re already irritated because we’re waking up to garbage, and you got people hovering over you, begging for your food. ‘Are you gonna eat that?’ ‘Can I have that?’ Every day you’re begging for something. People were fighting in there constantly.”

Haight says she hasn’t seen the inside of a jail cell in more than a decade. Now she’s working on opening a transition home for women returning home from prison. She just secured a business license and a so-called “clean hands certificate” indicating that she doesn’t have any outstanding debts with the D.C. government. She’s now looking for a building and grant funding.

In the meantime, she’s lending her voice to advocate for better food service inside the D.C. Jail in light of a bill currently before the D.C. Council.

Earlier this year, Ward 2 Councilmember Brooke Pinto introduced the Food Regulation Ensures Safety Hospitality Special Training Aids Reentry Transition and Success Act of 2023, or FRESH STARTS Act. If signed into law, the bill would set nutritional standards for meals served in the jail and require the Department of Corrections to adopt the Good Food Purchasing Policy, a national campaign that prioritizes local economies, environmental sustainability, workers’ rights, animal welfare, and nutrition.

The bill also establishes a “Fresh Foods Fund” to supplement the DOC’s existing contract for food services in the purchase of “nutrient-dense foods.” The fund can also be used to provide grants to incarcerated people who cannot afford to purchase food from the commissary.

Pinto held an initial committee hearing on the bill in July, where former Advisory Neighborhood Commissioner Leonard Bishop testified in support alongside several other witnesses. Bishop, who was elected to represent people incarcerated in the D.C. Jail, is waiting for a judge to rule on his claim of innocence. Less than a week after his testimony, he was transferred to a federal prison without explanation. (People serving D.C. sentences are held in U.S. Bureau of Prisons facilities throughout the country because the District does not have its own prison or control of most of its criminal justice system.)

Although Bishop and Haight’s time in the D.C. Jail is separated by more than a decade, their descriptions of the food are consistent. In conversations with City Paper, both have described the food as cold, stale, overcooked (and in some cases undercooked), at times spoiled, and lacking in nutrients.

“The hot dogs are like pink and brown,” Haight says. “It’s slop. They have this stuff called shit on a shingle. It’s sausage and gravy. It causes constipation, and it was disgusting.”

Although the nutritional requirements would be a welcome upgrade, Haight believes that improving the overall quality of food served in the jail could cut down on violence within the facility, too.

She says she’s watched correctional officers withhold food as punishment or to show favoritism. She also says she’s watched people trade sex for food.

“I’ve seen it happen,” she says. “People exchange sexual favors for food or anything else they might need.”

Supporters of the bill, and of improving food served in carceral facilities in general, point to the Maine Department of Corrections as a model. In the state prison system, DOC residents tend to organic crops planted throughout about 25 acres across eight facilities, according to Maine DOC Commissioner Randall Liberty. The gardens produce fruits and vegetables that are then served in Maine DOC cafeterias. “The program gives us the opportunity to provide endless salad bars for residents,” Liberty says, adding that the residents also learn to bake their own breads using local, discounted grains. 

Liberty says the program (which has helped certify 75 DOC residents as master gardeners through the University of Maine) is part of the DOC’s non-adversarial approach to corrections. He credits the overall model of generally treating people with dignity and respect, with a significant reduction in assaults on staff: from 87 in 2017 to just seven assaults in 2022.

But while Liberty has found success in a state prison system, he acknowledges that the program isn’t entirely transferable to a jail, where the population is much less stable. People are cycling in and out, some may be intoxicated, and most don’t stay long enough to stabilize and settle in.

Still, he mentions one facility in particular, where on a recent visit he saw that some of the residents had just baked three big raspberry pies using the berries grown at the facility.

“Imagine how normative that is. People who haven’t tasted a raspberry in 20 years, to create that food for each other,” he says. “When we treat people that way, they act responsibly and are respectful and they engage in treatment and programming rather than worrying about conflict.”

DOC has a $6.9 million contract with Aramark to provide the majority of its food service. That comes to about $2.66 per meal, though the calculation fluctuates with the population of the jail.

A typical day of meals, according to Aramark’s menu, includes 2,800 calories.

Breakfast includes juice (4 ounces), corn grits (one and a half cups), hard cooked egg (one), hash browns (three-fourths of a cup), streusel coffeecake, whipped margarine (half an ounce), milk (half pint), and coffee (one cup with one sugar packet)

Lunch includes “T. ham,” (two ounces), cheese (one ounce), mustard (two packets), enriched bread (four slices), potato salad (half of a cup), fresh baked sugar cookie bar, and a fruit drink with vitamin C (one cup).

Dinner includes “T. Hot Dogs (two each), pinto beans (one cup), coleslaw vinaigrette (half of a cup), enriched bread (two slices), mustard (two packets), cinnamon cake, and sweetened iced tea (one cup).

The FRESH STARTS Act is currently sitting in Pinto’s judiciary and public safety committee. The next step is moving the bill for consideration by the full D.C. Council, which just returned this week from summer recess. On Monday, Pinto introduced a slew of new bills aimed at addressing rising crime rates. In an accompanying press release, she indicated her intention to move the bill forward.

This column is produced in collaboration with More Than Our Crimes, a nonprofit dedicated to raising the voices of people locked in federal prisons across the country.