History was quietly made in 2026 when an incarcerated woman known only as B. Alexis released 9th & Gasoline — what Freer Records describes as the first-ever album made by a woman behind bars. For decades, prison music has been a conversation dominated by male voices. That changes now.
B. Alexis and Freer Records Make History With First Album by an Incarcerated Woman
9th & Gasoline was released through Freer Records, the only label in the United States today that focuses specifically on working with incarcerated artists. Formerly known as Die Jim Crow, the New York-based nonprofit has previously worked with artists in Colorado, California, and other undisclosed facilities — but this album represents a milestone even within their own groundbreaking catalog.
B. Alexis is currently serving a 30-year sentence for murder at an undisclosed facility in the South. Her real name and exact location have been withheld at her own request and that of her label, due to legitimate concerns about potential retaliation from prison staff. Despite those risks, she made the decision to allow her face on the album cover as the release approached — a quiet but powerful act of ownership over her own story.
The album has drawn comparisons to the work of artists like Rapsody, Tierra Whack, and Eve — a framing that places B. Alexis firmly within a tradition of women in rap who use the form to tell uncomfortable truths with precision and grace.
How the Album Was Recorded Inside a Prison Facility
Getting music recorded inside a correctional facility is not a simple process. BL Shirelle, co-executive director of Freer Records and the album’s producer, has spent years learning how to negotiate with prison administrations to bring recording equipment inside — navigating bureaucratic resistance, safety concerns, and the ever-present possibility that a facility will simply say no.
“They might put you in the gym or the janitors’ closet,” Shirelle said. “We build pretty impressive soundproof studios out of PVC pipe and old blankets.”
The resourcefulness behind that statement reflects the kind of determination that defines everything about this project. Freer held auditions at B. Alexis’s facility in 2019, looking for artists interested in recording. B. Alexis auditioned and immediately made an impression that Shirelle has never forgotten.
“Women often glorify prostitution in music, but she wrote about genuinely trying to survive off her body, and it stuck with me for weeks,” Shirelle said. “She uses everything as a teachable moment and doesn’t feel sorry for herself.”
That combination of honesty and accountability — without self-pity or performance — became the defining characteristic of the album that would follow.
The Story Behind B. Alexis: Survival, Loss, and a 30-Year Sentence
B. Alexis was 17 years old when she shot and killed a woman. Before that, at 13, she had been forced into sex work — a detail she addresses directly in her music, refusing to let that chapter of her life be either minimized or sensationalized. When she went to prison, she had recently given birth to a son, Ja’Mir.
What followed was one of the most painful experiences a parent can endure. Eighteen years into her sentence — past the halfway point — Ja’Mir was shot and killed at a bus stop. His death was ruled a homicide and has never been solved. B. Alexis processed that loss from behind bars, without the ability to grieve publicly or be physically present for the people who shared her pain.
That reality runs through the album’s emotional core. On the track “I Can’t Lie,” she raps movingly about watching her son grow up from inside prison walls. On “Fight to Live,” she reflects on the circumstances that shaped both the trauma she experienced and the harm she caused: “The pistol had been loaded long before my fateful calling.” It is the language of someone who has spent years sitting with hard truths rather than running from them.
‘Black Barbie’ and the Art of Speaking to Hidden Pain
The album opens with “Black Barbie” — a track that sets the tone for everything that follows. Rather than ceneding the listener to spectacle, B. Alexis opens with an act of tenderness, addressing a woman who could easily be herself: “I see the hurt and pain you try to hide behind your eyes.”
She has spoken openly about where that song came from and what it represents.
“When I wrote ‘Black Barbie,’ I was in a place of feeling inadequate, like I could not measure up to the expectations of those around me,” she said. “I started thinking about the young women in my ‘hood who I thought had it all. I realized I really wasn’t too different from them. We all were trying to fake it ’til we made it.”
The visual for the single, created by Freer Records, sourced a Barbie doll from the year B. Alexis was born and produced a video in which the doll breaks out of its packaging, strips away the costume, and dances in freedom — before being handcuffed and pushed back inside. It is a striking piece of visual storytelling that captures the album’s central tension between freedom and confinement, identity and erasure.
The Risks of Speaking Out and Why B. Alexis Chose to Do It Anyway
Making this album was not without risk. Incarcerated artists have faced serious consequences for releasing music — rappers in Michigan and South Carolina have been sent to solitary confinement for releasing music videos from prison, with staff citing facility safety concerns. The legal landscape around prison censorship is ambiguous, with the U.S. Supreme Court permitting some restrictions when there are what it calls “legitimate penological concerns.”
B. Alexis was fully aware of those risks when she moved forward. Her response to the possibility of retaliation was direct and unwavering.
“I think the pros are well worth any risks. Anything I endeavor to do concerning my music is out of integrity, so the risks or consequences don’t bother me.”
So far, Shirelle reports, there has been no retaliation from the facility. But the courage it takes to make that statement — and then follow through on it — while serving a 30-year sentence in an institution that holds all the power should not be understated. B. Alexis made a record that tells the truth about her life. In the context of incarceration, that alone is an act of extraordinary bravery.