Let them eat cheesecake
Jane Doe wakes up at 5 a.m. She showers using Dove Extra Fresh moisturizing body wash. She applies Secret Outlast solid deodorant. And finally, she enjoys a soothing cup of coffee flavored with french vanilla creamer, while eating an English muffin. What makes this seemingly regular grooming ritual noteworthy? The lady enjoying these creature comforts is an incarcerated individual and every product she is using is from the free world.
The residents at Central California Women’s Facility have no access to free-world items, except those pre-approved and available for sale once a quarter through special fundraiser sales. The concept is simple: sell substantially marked-up free-world items to residents and donate the proceeds to a designated charity.
All prisoners yearn to be free. Barring that, they need to at least feel free. That fleeting feeling can be attained through simple things—hygiene items that leave an elusive scent on the skin, or free-world baked goodies. And for the denizens of CCWF the belle of the baked-goods ball is cheesecake. One bite transports. And that is what makes Costco fundraiser sales so popular here at CCWF.
The facility held the first Costco fundraiser sale of the year on May 18, 2024.
“I can’t wait for the cheesecake,” said Cassandra Hamm, a resident of Unit 512, as she spent the evening prior to the sale cleaning out the huge bins used by residents to haul their precious cargo from the gym back to their units.
The excitement begins as early as the Thursday before the weekend of the sale, with people wondering what order the housing units will go in, each wanting to go as soon as possible. The bins typically used for a unit move or canteen shopping are collected the evening before. They are cleaned out, labeled, then packed carefully in the hallways where incarcerated individuals can keep an eagle eye on them. More often than not, people share bins and consequently they get piled high with goodies.
As soon as the housing officer announced it was our turn, the race to the gate began. Like commuters hurrying to a bus stop afraid to be left behind, the pace was brisk. The weather was warm. The sky was cloudless. Was it just me or did the sun look like a giant cheesecake? I saw residents with walkers practically sprinting like Usain Bolt at the Olympics.
Fueled by the power of cheesecake, but all that hurrying was for naught. We were stopped by the locked gate that led to the Main yard. There, an officer, with a long list of all potential sale participants, had to grant residents passage or they could not go any further. I felt bad for one particular young lady whose name somehow did not make it on the list and was turned away. She walked back toward the units visibly upset.
At long last we made it through the gate toward the gym following carefully placed signs with arrows guiding us towards our destination, a departure from previous sales.
Entering the gym, the vibe was all Costco; the air was cool in sharp contrast to the heat outside. Around the perimeter of the gym, food items were separated from hygiene items. Tables were arranged so that at any given time, at least 10 people were being serviced. The high ceilings and spaciousness of the gym’s interior made it feel remarkably like the real Costco. For a split second I was there. I was free. Freedom must taste like cheesecake.
What a treasure trove of treats. Piles upon piles of precariously perched packages, the most precious ones of all occupying peak positions at the top.
No Costco customer service representative could ever come close to providing the type of service provided by the resident workers, all volunteers hand-picked by the community resource manager.
Day after day of working with delectable goods may render Costco employees immune to the charms wielded by baked goods. To the incarcerated persons however, the allure of cheesecake is akin to the siren call of home.
Freedom rang that day with every imaginary ching of a non-existent cash register, with every delighted ohh and every joyful ahh, with every triumphant “chunka-chunka” of hard plastic wheels on tarmac wheeling treasure back to their collective units.
