The Marshall Project

Why Showering in Prison Is Hell

“Step by step, I shuffle forward amid the mass of bodies, waiting to get inside.”

“Shower time, fellas!” yells a guard as I stand up from my bunk, which is 26 inches wide and made of hard steel.

I hate this bunk.

“J.W., you showering, man?” says a familiar voice. Looking up, I see James waving me toward the hallway.

James—now that’s a character. White guy with blond hair and green eyes; rocks the Bible and a smile all day.

Walking toward him I wave half-assed. “You are always so cheerful, dude. I hate you, you know.”

Life Inside Perspectives from those who work and live in the criminal justice system. Related Stories

“Hey, I hate you too, dude. Besides, the faster we get walking to the

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