Economic Impediments to Women’s Success on Parole

Abstract

The number of women under community supervision has increased in recent years. However, empirical research on women parolees’ experiences is quite limited. Women parolees are faced with daunting challenges that may impede their success on parole. Using face-to-face interviews with 60 women parolees in a Southern state, this qualitative study examined the perceived barriers to women’s success on parole. Women parolees identified economic variables as critical barriers to their parole adjustment.

Keywords

women parolees economic resources employment and housing barriers transportation

Introduction

In the past 20 years, women inmates have been one of the fastest growing prison populations in the United States. Women inmates represent a myriad of voices that speak to poverty-stricken lives, histories of abuse, separations of mother and child, struggles with substance abuse, problematic family relationships, health issues, and economic hardships. Transitioning from prison to the community is a challenge for women parolees. Yet, there is limited research on the factors that affect parole success or failure (Petersilia, 2001), particularly research that contextualizes the direct experiences of women parolees.

The discussion of challenges that women parolees face is a timely research topic in light of the renewed interest in reentry programs and services that are direct consequences of the increase in the number of men and women reentering society as parolees (Seiter & Kadela, 2003). The purpose of this qualitative research study is to explore the economic barriers that women face in the reentry process. Specifically, the study provides a descriptive, qualitative analysis of self-identified barriers that women parolees face in seeking employment, housing, transportation, payment of supervision fees, and meeting overall monthly expenses.

Literature Review

The incarceration of more than two million people in prisons in the United States has resulted in an increase in the number of inmates being released back to communities. During the past decade, prison reentry has emerged as a critical issue that affects parolees and their families. At yearend 2012, female offenders made up 24% of adults on parole. Except for women offenders who die in prison, women will reenter communities as parolees, a process referred to as the “iron law of imprisonment” (Travis, 2005).

Many women are released back to communities that are already marginalized and disadvantaged by poor infrastructure, poverty, unemployment, lack of medical facilities and self-improvement programs, and lower quality schools. Women who reenter communities from prison are likely to have limited social capital, marketable skills, and education (Travis & Stacey, 2010; Wilson & Davis, 2006). For some women, the challenges surrounding securing employment and housing, two immediate reentry needs, are insurmountable and further exacerbate limited coping skills.

Economic Barriers

In 2008, 34 states spent US$18.6 billion on prisons, but only US$2.5 billion was spent on probation and parole (Pew Center on the States, 2009). Social and human capital deficiencies present challenges for women parolees as they pursue employment, housing, education, family reconnection, health care, and lifestyles free of crime. Drug-related crimes restrict a woman’s access to any number of social welfare programs and benefits, including food stamps, subsidized housing, educational loans, and employment. Women who have been on parole previously and who violated the conditions of their parole may experience economic restrictions as stipulated by federal law in accessing Temporary Aid to Needy Families and Supplemental Social Security Income (Frost, Greene, & Pranis, 2006). Furthermore, many women parolees lack job training and work skills to secure higher salaried jobs (Hesse-Biber & Levy, 2007).

The “ex-inmate stigma” severely hampers the process of securing gainful employment (Harris & Kelly, 2005). Stigmatization and social exclusion intertwined with a lack of economic resources and social support (Lund, Hyde, Kempson, & Clark, 2002) create challenging situations for women parolees. Failed attempts to acquiring employment, housing, transportation, and education have been linked to recidivism (Brennan, Dieterich, & Ehret, 2009; Meredith, Speir, & Johnson, 2007). Furthermore, there are more than 1,900 occupational codes in the form of statutes and provisions that exclude individuals with arrest or conviction records from employment regardless of their job skills (Mukamal & Samuels, 2003). Yet, a few states have instituted policies that ban employment exclusion based on an individual’s criminal record (Scales, 2002). These policies put forth the premise that society is best served if offenders are provided opportunities and skills necessary to earn a living through meaningful employment in the community. Parolees, if given the opportunity, may participate in reentry programs designed to facilitate their transition from prison into the community even if participation is not a condition of their parole (Morani, Wikoff, Linhorst, & Bratton, 2011).

Housing Barriers

Women returning to the community from prison face the daunting task of finding affordable housing. Safe, decent, and affordable housing is essential for women parolees’ well-being (O’Brien, 2002) and reunification with their children. Women parolees who can afford housing may still be confronted with the stigma of incarceration when landlords refuse to enter a lease agreement with them because of their criminal background. Women who lived in public housing prior to incarceration may find themselves ineligible for public housing as parolees because of the “One Strike Initiative” of Section 9 of the Housing Opportunity Program Extension Act of 1996. Under this Act, individuals may be denied access to or evicted from public housing due to a felony drug conviction. . In addition, the availability of public housing is not only limited but public housing has many eligibility restrictions (Bergseth, Jens, Bergeron-Vigesaa, & McDonald, 2011) that obstruct women parolees’ access to affordable housing.

Some women parolees cannot rely on families for the provision of housing. In many cases, families abandon them when they are convicted and, therefore, are not available to offer any housing assistance upon release from prison (Richie, 2001). Furthermore, some women parolees have close family members and friends who have criminal records, making living in the same household problematic, although these individuals may be the only ones who can support the housing needs of women parolees (Petersilia, 2005). Social networks that would be beneficial in assisting women in securing housing are also affected by race and ethnicity. Some communities are disproportionately affected by reentry (Iguchi et al., 2002). For African American women, the structural location of affordable housing affects their ability to access services (e.g., substance abuse treatment, job training, jobs, mental health treatment, child care, medical facilities). The loss of social capital within social networks and additional legal restrictions result in serious challenges in locating affordable and safe housing (Reisig, Holtfreter, & Morash, 2002).

Some parolees are able to secure housing though the 2008 Second Chance Act. The legislation offers federal grants to government agencies and nonprofit organizations that provide employment assistance, housing, substance abuse treatment, family programming, and other reintegration services designed to increase public safety by reducing the recidivism rate. In addition, some parolees have received assistance with housing through the federal-funded Shelter Plus Care program. This program, operated by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (2011), provides local and state governments and public housing authorities funding to assist homeless persons with disabilities (e.g. serious mental illness, chronic problems with alcohol and/or drugs, and HIV/AIDS or related diseases). The reentry difficulties that ex-inmates experience relative to employment, housing, accessing substance abuse and mental health treatment, and health care services are linked to the stigma of being an ex-felon.

The goal of this study is to identify perceived economic barriers women parolees experienced and report how they negotiated the transition from prison to the community. This study adds to the existing literature on women parolees by examining firsthand accounts of their experiences rather than indirect measures of the difficulties they encounter as parolees. The barriers presented here are in the context that the women parolees discussed them.

Method

Research Design and Sample

The research study is a qualitative study that examined economic difficulties (i.e., barriers) that women parolees experienced while on parole in a Southern state. Women parolees who had been on parole for at least 1 year were selected to participate in the study from a three-city area. A random selection process was used to select the participants from two of the three cities. The third city had a small number of women parolees; thus, all women parolees were asked to participate in the study.

The study design included face-to-face interviews with 60 women parolees, face-to-face interviews with two parole officers at each of the city locations, and informal discussions with district managers. The data for the present study are based on the interviews of the 60 women parolees. The use of small samples in qualitative research provides in-depth understandings, appreciation, insights, and intimate familiarity (Roberts, 2003), and creates a venue to bring otherwise “silenced” women’s stories to the forefront. Qualitative studies based on small samples are not uncommon (see Bloom, 1998; Miller, 2000). The qualitative nature of the study justifies the small sample size of 60 participants.

Variables and Instrument

The face-to-face interview schedules were developed carefully after a thorough review of the literature, discussions with parole district managers and parole officers, a review of a sample of parole files, and observations. The first part of the women parolees’ questionnaire included demographic (e.g. age, race, education, income, job skills) and parole characteristics (e.g. length of time on parole, number of times on parole, reporting behavior, difficulties of being on parole multiple times).

The second part of the interview schedule contained questions about family reunification and support, motherhood, childhood and adulthood abuse, substance abuse, housing, employment, transportation, and health. The third part of the interview schedule asked the women parolees about their criminal behavior, incarceration experiences, stigmatization, parole revocation, and how helpful they found their assigned parole officer and the services provided by the parole agency.

Data Collection Procedures

The women parolees were interviewed in a private office at their reporting parole agency. The data for the study were collected in 2009. The researcher was the only person in the private office when the interviews took place. All interviews were conducted by the researcher. Before each interview began, the researcher explained the purpose and objectives of the interview to the participant and what was required of her in the interview. Each participant was provided time to read the informed consent form, ask questions, and sign the informed consent before the interview began. All interviews were audiotaped.

The in-depth face-to-face interviews with the women parolees lasted from 1 hr to 4 hr. During the interview process, the researcher took handwritten notes in addition to audiotaping the interviews. The handwritten notes were reviewed daily by the researcher to determine whether follow-up information was needed. The researcher’s notes and the transcribed data were reviewed, and several patterns and themes emerged from the data. Each participant was provided a US$10 cash remuneration at the end of the interview.

Data Analysis

The research study was approved by the researcher’s university Institutional Review Board. The tapes were transcribed verbatim to present the women’s parole experiences in their own voices and words. Once the audiotapes were transcribed, the researcher compared the transcriptions with the handwritten notes on each survey to increase the validity and integrity of the data.

General topics from the semi-structured interviews were used to organize and categorize the data. The data were presented in a qualitative, narrative format. Each woman parolee’s typed case (after transcription) was read thoroughly by the researcher, and themes were compared to ensure the integrity of the data. In addition, the transcripts were examined, applying the Glaser and Strauss (1967) constant comparison method for qualitative research. The method allowed the researcher to compare and examine the women parolees’ perceived challenges on parole as a set of themes emerged from the data. Subcodes were created for emerging themes that centered on economic difficulties encountered in the reentry process. Direct quotes of the spoken words of the participants were used to contextualize the women’s voices, lived experiences, and perspectives. Pseudonyms were used to protect the identity and confidentiality of the participants.

Findings

Sample Characteristics

The demographic characteristics of the 60 women parolees are summarized in Table 1. The demographic data revealed that 78% (n = 47) of the women parolees were African Americans and 22% (n = 13) were Caucasians. The average age for the 60 women parolees was 46, with ages ranging from 24 to 68 years. The education level of the subjects ranged from eighth-grade education to a master’s degree in social work (MSW), with the majority (75%) of the women parolees having a high school diploma or General Educational Development (GED). In terms of employment, the majority of the women parolees were employed at the time of the interviews (63.3%, n = 38). Twenty-three percent (n = 14) were unemployed; 12% (n = 7) were disabled; and one parolee was retired.

Table 1.

Demographic Characteristics.

Variable	Number	%
Race
African American	47	78.3
Caucasian	13	21.7
Total	60	100.0
Age
21-30	5	8.3
31-40	15	25.0
41-50	20	33.3
Above 50	20	33.3
Total	60	100.0
Marital status
Married	14	23.3
Single	28	46.7
Divorced, widowed	18	30.0
Total	60	100.0
Employed
Yes	38	63.3
No	15	25.0
Disability	7	11.7
Total	60	100.0
Employment type
Service	27	45.0
Professional	8	13.3
Halfway house	3	5.0
Not employed	22	36.7
Total	60	100.0
Employment length (in years)
1-5 years	17	28.3
6-10 years	19	32.0
11-15 years	2	3.0
Not employed	22	36.7
Total	60	100.0
Annual income
Less than US$10,000	12	20.0
US$10,000-US$20,000	20	33.3
US$20,001-US$30,000	5	8.3
More than US$30,000	1	1.7
No salary	22	36.7
Total	60	100.0
Educational level
Less than high school degree	7	12.0
High school diploma	20	33.0
GED	25	42.0
Some college	5	8.0
College	3	5.0
Total	60	100.0
Religious affiliation
Catholic	2	3.3
Baptist	39	65.0
Methodist	3	5.0
Christian	4	6.7
Nondenomination	12	20.0
Total	60	100.0

Note. GED = General Educational Development.

Parole characteristics revealed that 90% (n = 54) of the women parolees had been on parole for 1 to 5 years and 10% (n = 6) had been on parole for 6 to 10 years. The majority of the women parolees (66.7%, n = 40) had been on parole one time, and 16 (26.6%) had been on parole two times. Only four (6.7%) women parolees had been on parole four times. The average number of years these 60 women parolees served in prison was 7.9 years.

Employment

A prison record is often a major barrier to participation in the formal labor market. Employment, as a barrier, is especially critical for women who are, oftentimes, the sole caregivers of their dependent children. Seventy-one percent (n = 43) reported the criminal background check as the major barrier to finding and keeping a job with 15% (n = 9) and 0.08% (n = 5) indicating the lack of marketable skills and lack of transportation, respectively, as barriers to employment. Only 7 women stated that finding a job was “easy” and that the felony stigma did not affect them in securing a job. The annual income level for the women parolees who were employed ranged from less than US$10,000 to US$22,000. Of the 38 women parolees employed, 68% (n = 26) had annual incomes of US$10,000 or less, with only 5 women having annual incomes ranging between US$15,000 and US$22,000. Two salient factors that restricted women parolees’ access to employment were the criminal background check and the lack of marketable skills.

Most of the women parolees in this study, when asked about their employment efforts, discussed how the criminal background check affected not only whether they were hired but also the type of work they were hired to do and the wages they received. Women expressed both joy and sadness when recalling their pathways to securing a job. Women who were initially hired expressed feelings of happiness and empowerment. However, once the criminal background check was completed, some of the women were dismissed from their jobs.

The impact of the criminal background check on women parolees’ success in gaining employment was described by Candace, a 30-year-old Caucasian first-time parolee:

I want to work and make a decent living. But it is hard for some employers to look beyond your criminal record. I should be able to say to an employer, “Yes, I went to prison but here is a letter from my parole officer stating that I have been on parole for almost two years and have done well.” If my parole officer says I haven’t been in any trouble, then the employer should waive my criminal record.

Some employers, who did not know about the parolee’s status as a parolee, were impressed with the parolee’s work skills and were willing to hire her until the criminal background check was completed. The following dialogue between 64-year-old Evelyn, a Caucasian parolee who was sentenced to 30 years in prison for murder, and a potential employer explains this situation:

When I got hired for a job, you know, I was desperate for a job. I answered an ad in the paper, took them a resume, filled out the application, and interviewed with high-ranking people in the job. I was told that I was well-qualified for the job and that I was at the top of their list for the job. I signed a paper where they told me that they would do a background check and my heart stopped because I knew they would find out about my criminal background. And this makes me tear up just talking about it because I went ahead and told her about me being on parole. Of course, when I told her she came unglued, and said, “you’re on parole?” I said, “Yes.” She said, “You mean to tell me you are a parolee?” I said, “Yes.” And she said, “um, well, I just, I don’t know about this now.” I said, “what do you mean that you don’t know about this now? You liked me a few minutes ago and you said I scored high on my tests and both interviews.”

The disclosure of the types of crimes women parolees committed also affected potential employers’ decisions to hire them. Employers, according to the women parolees, were more hesitant to hire women who had committed violent crimes such as murder, robbery, or assault. This point was demonstrated by the previously quoted parolee, Evelyn, when she further stated,

I made a good impression upon the employer and had a good feeling that the job was mine until the employer asked me what crime I committed. When I said manslaughter, she shuddered and said, “Oh my gosh.” The next day I received a job rejection letter from her saying that it would be devastating for her to work with a murderer.

The criminal background check affects all women parolees regardless of their educational level. However, in some employment situations, the parolee’s educational background and skills were more important than the criminal label. One African American woman parolee, Anna, who was a senior in college when she was arrested and convicted of theft of property, served 6 years in prison. She described her experience at seeking employment by stating,

When I got released from prison, I put in 10-15 job applications. For one of the jobs, I interviewed and was called back for a second and third interview. When my application was first sent over to them, it didn’t contain the attachment that listed my crime. I had to go to the person that wanted to hire me and explain my felony to him. He hired me because he did not hold my criminal record against me. He looked at my qualifications and he didn’t care that I was a convicted felon. There are not a lot of employers who say they don’t care whether the potential employee has a felony record. I was one of the lucky ones.

Women parolees are expected to secure employment within 30 days of being released on parole. Many of the women parolees interviewed reported that they were expected to provide their assigned parole officer with an update about their job search during each monthly reporting period. The women parolees also reported that their parole officer offered advice and suggestions about how to secure a job as an ex-felon. Willie, a 48-year-old African American who had been on parole two times and served time in both state and federal prisons, discussed her views about the relationship between not finding a job, low self-esteem, drug relapse, and advice from her parole officer:

I would come visit my parole officer and I would sit in there and he would tell me I need to find a job and remind me what would happen to me if I didn’t find a job. I was looking for a job but just couldn’t get hired because of my criminal background. I needed money for bills and things and my family could only give me a little money. What they gave me was not enough to pay the bills. I didn’t feel good about myself and felt like I was unworthy to get a job cause of what I did. I was scared to go back to my parole officer because I hadn’t found a job, and all of that just weighed on me and I went back out trying to hustle to make money to pay my bills and ended back up on drugs again. After thinking about it, I realized my parole officer, who I saw as nagging me, was just trying to help me.

Some women parolees see the daunting process of securing a job as a catch-22 situation. These women are faced with the choice of disclosing their criminal status on their application and risk not being hired or not disclosing their ex-inmate status and face being fired because they lied on the job application. Women parolees who did not disclose their criminal status on their application were hoping that once they started working and prove to their employer that they have good work ethics, the employer would keep them as employees. However, some of the women parolees were dismissed and had to start their application process again as indicated by 48-year-old Lillie, an African American parolee:

I was so desperate for a job and knowing that my parole officer was pressuring me to get a job, I lied on one application. I told them that I had never been arrested. I did have an interview and was hired. I worked there for four months until the criminal background check was done. The employer was willing to hire me, but the headquarters of the company rejected my application because of my criminal record. How am I suppose to make it out here when I can’t get a job?

When asked how she was able to secure a job in less than 1 month after being released from prison, Amy, a 46-year-old African American, who had been on parole one time, responded by saying,

I went in and talked with her [potential employer] face to face. I basically told her the experience that I had, where I come from, my situation, and I told her that I had served time in prison, and why I was sentenced to prison. I told her how many years I had worked at my previous job before being sent to prison. I pretty much begged for the job. And she hired me right then.

Nelly, in contrast, a 28-year-old African American parolee, decided to deny her criminal status after repeated failures to secure employment:

When I first came home from prison, I was like, being honest, cause that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to live an honest life but I found out that it was hard to say yes you’ve been convicted of a crime when you really need a job but you is being turned down because of your prison record. When I tell the truth, my application automatically go in the garbage. I got tired of filling out applications and saying that I’ve been convicted. So I started writing no on job applications and I got a job. I stayed out their way and I lived like I was supposed to be living. I was at the job for over a year before I left because I wanted to better my job and better my pay.

Maintaining pre-prison jobs was important enough for one parolee to not disclose to her immediate supervisor that she had been sentenced to prison. Claudette, a 53-year-old African American, who had been on parole two times, illustrated this point:

When I went to prison the second time, I was working for this agency, and so I lied, when I knew I was going [to prison], I lied. I told her [ immediate supervisor] my brother was ill in Detroit and I was going to help him out. And it might take a while but I would be back. So, I left my job under the pretense that I was going out of town, but I didn’t let her know that I was going to prison. So when I got out [of prison], I came home, on a Wednesday, and I started back working with her on a Friday. I thought she didn’t know that I had been to prison but she did and she told me she knew. I was shocked that my supervisor knew my criminal record and still kept me on. I was grateful that she did not have me fired.

Women parolees with some college or college degrees (n = 8) held the expectation that they would be able to secure professional jobs on release. These women parolees felt that their college education and previous work experiences before incarceration placed them in a more marketable position to obtain professional jobs. Karen, a 42-year-old Caucasian college graduate with a degree in office information systems, who was employed at a dry cleaners, states:

When I first got out of prison, I applied for a front desk job at a company because of my college degree and computer experience. But due to the robbery crime I committed, nobody really wants to hire me based on my education and skills. This type of crime makes people look at my application harder than if I just had a bad check charge. I have the skills but can only get a job making minimum money instead of getting a job in my field that I am qualified for making a higher salary.

Not all women parolees experienced frustration and anxiety in securing employment. The few women parolees who described their job search as easy were able to maintain the same job they had while in a work release program or transitional house; some were able to return to the same job they had before incarceration; others were able to get jobs at locations where family members were working in managerial positions; and still others applied for jobs with companies that did not complete a criminal background check. Some women attempted to supplement their base salary by working overtime and working at part-time jobs. Two of the women who were laid off were hired by family members to babysit for them to have funds to pay their parole supervision fee and to assist with housing expenses. Women’s access to shelter is linked directly to their ability to secure employment. Housing was another economic resource that women parolees identified as a barrier.

Housing

Housing is essential for women parolees who are reentering the community and who have to go through legal proceedings to regain custody of their children. Housing is important in meeting other reentry goals. The lack of a stable home address complicates the process of women parolees obtaining identification, driver’s license, social security card, birth certificate, and employment. Women parolees’ greatest economic barrier, as explained by Stephanie, a 50-year-old married Caucasian parolee, is

homeless. Finding housing. They don’t have nowhere to go or family who will take them back. They are too scared to tell their parole officer because they are afraid they will be locked up. There are no resources available to help us. So many of us end back up on the street doing what we know to do to make money and that is prostitution.

Women released from prison have various home plans. Roughly 37% (n = 22) of the women parolees were living on their own (e.g. rental house, boarding room, or apartment); 10% (n = 6) were living with a parent; 20% (n = 12) were living with a partner; 13% (n = 8) were living with a relative (e.g. grandparent, sibling, aunt, or cousin); 8.3% (n = 5) were living with an adult child; and 11.7% (n = 7) were currently living in a transitional home. Forty-five percent of the women had transitioned into their current living situation from a transitional home. More than 50% of the parolees living independently, with a family member, or with a partner were living in rental property. Only 11.7% (n = 7) lived in nonrental housing. Living independently prior to incarceration was defined by the parolees not necessarily as living by themselves but living with a husband or boyfriend. A higher percentage of women (35%) were living with an intimate partner (e.g., husband or boyfriend) before incarceration than after incarceration (20%). The majority of the women parolees (83%) had lived in places other than their current residence with more than 50% of the participants indicating that they had moved three times since being released from prison. Thirty-five (58.3%) of the women parolees did not like their current housing arrangement and location. Most of the women parolees, whether living independently or living with someone else, described their neighborhood as “unsafe.” Seventy-five percent (n = 45) of the women stated that they live in low-income neighborhoods where drugs and crimes are problematic.

Some parolees’ pre-release plans did not materialize because of family discord and limited financial resources. In addition, some women’s housing plans that included living with a family member changed when it was disclosed that a family member had a criminal record. Thus, some women felt that their housing choices were to reconnect with deviant social networks. Kristina, a 52-year-old Caucasian parolee, describes the difficulties she encountered in finding housing when living with a family member was not an option:

Finding a place to live when my residence time was up at the transition home was difficult. When I left the transition home, I had no place to go. I was a drug dealer for 20 years. My house was vandalized while I was in prison and I lost it. I called a friend of mine’s who was a drug dealer and he provided me a place to stay. I was not using at this point. My family had written me off and did not help me find a place or offer their home to me. They did not believe that I had changed. I knew that I could not continue to live with a drug dealer and stay clean but that was the only place I had to go. I eventually moved in with another friend.

The 22 women parolees who were living independently either lived in a transitional home or with a family member before they secured independent housing. Some women who once lived in public housing were restricted from living there because of their criminal history. Amber, a 30-year-old single African American mother of two dependent children, expressed her frustration with the housing restrictions that ex-inmates face when trying to find housing:

I was actually living in public housing when I was doing wrong. I wasn’t working and my rent was reasonable at $500 a month. I got food stamps and a government check. And now here I am doing right, working, going to school, and I have absolutely no money, and can’t get food stamps, can’t get public housing, can’t live with my mom who already has public housing. I can’t do none of that. You would think public housing would want to be there for you and say “well, we’ll put you in this two bedroom or three bedroom to help you get your children back, and help the court see that you have adequate housing for your children.”

There are very few community transitional homes available to women in the Southern state in which the data were collected. The average length of time women parolees resided at transitional homes was 6 months. A number of the women interviewed who were currently living in a transitional home or had previously lived in a transitional home classified themselves as “homeless.” Although they knew that, after 6 months, they would be living with a relative or a friend, they still viewed themselves as homeless because they would not be the homeowner or renter of the residence where they would be living. Some of the women equated their experience of living in a transitional home to living in prison. Joyce, a 24-year-old African American parolee, noted, “The halfway house has so many rules; it is just like being locked up. It is like you have one foot in prison and one foot in the community. It is like we are still serving time.”

Finding housing can be just as difficult as finding employment. Criminal background checks are completed in the housing market for applicants applying for rental houses and apartments. As stated earlier, a felony record can limit women parolees’ options in finding safe and affordable housing. This point was explained by Geraldine, a 53-year-old African American who has been on parole twice:

I don’t have a drug record. I never used nor sold drugs but by me being a felon, it knocks me out of getting a project [public housing]. I’ve looked and looked for housing. I’ve been tossed around like a dirty dishrag. When you apply for housing as an ex-felon, it is no, no, no! Even when you come out of prison, you need somewhere to go.

Most women, when asked whether their parole officer assisted them in finding housing, stated that they did not see “finding housing” as a part of their parole officer’s job. Therefore, many parolees never asked for assistance in securing housing. There was, however, one exception. Fannie, a 44-year-old African American, stated that her parole officer was very helpful in assisting her in obtaining housing:

I tried for the longest to get public housing but kept getting denied. I finally talked with my parole officer about housing and he wrote them [Housing Authority] a letter stating that I was a good parolee and had not gotten into trouble since being on parole. This letter got me approved for a public housing apartment.

Prior to incarceration, the parolees’ housing arrangements included living independently, living with a family member, living with an intimate partner or friend, and homelessness. Forty-two percent (n = 25) of the women parolees were homeless prior to incarceration. With the exception of three women who indicated that they were homeless due to domestic violence, the majority of the women linked their homelessness to drug addiction and prostitution. Mary, a 56-year-old African American divorcee and mother of three grown children, revealed that prior to being sentenced to prison, she was in and out of jail for prostitution and theft. When she was not in jail, she was homeless and lived in cars, abandoned houses, under bridges, parks, and drug houses. Some of the women who classified themselves as homeless prior to incarceration said they were homeless by choice because they did not want to continue to cause their family members grief and anxiety as a result of their drug addictive behaviors.

Transportation

Transportation is also an important economic resource for women parolees. Approximately 28 (46.7%) of the women had access to cars that they could drive to and from work, whereas 53.3% had to rely on other venues for transportation (e.g., family, friend, taxi, or bus). Some of the women who owned cars or had access to cars were no longer able to drive themselves to work because of car-related mechanical problems. Women without transportation and close family members who were willing to provide them with transportation to work or to their assigned parole agency spoke about the additional economic burden of having to pay a friend or the public transient system for transportation.

Women who are released from prison do not have a valid driving license. For some women, the process of obtaining a driver’s license is too overwhelming. Queena, a 34-year-old African American parolee who was employed as a caseworker at a transitional home, discussed women’s fears of getting their driver’s license:

I see women here who want to get their license but they are too scared. Many of them still owe for traffic tickets and they don’t have the money to pay for these tickets. So they are scared that when they go down there to get their license, they are going to be arrested. So they don’t go.

Women also expressed concern about not having transportation to the parole office for their monthly parole visit. One parolee, without transportation, stated that she looked for housing near her assigned parole office to ensure that she was within walking distance of the parole agency. Transportation created hardship for some employed women in getting to and from work. Pattie, a 45-year-old African American parolee, who had been on parole four times, explained why she had to quit her job:

Yes, I was working at a job that I was able to get. I made less that $200 a month. I quit the job because the pay was so low and I lived so far away from the job. I ended up spending my salary on bus fare, cab, or paying someone to take me to work when a family member was not available to take me.

Women parolees relied heavily on family support to assist with their transportation needs.

Monthly Parole Supervision Fee and Other Fees

One form of financial support that family members provided to women parolees, without hesitation if needed, was the monthly parole supervision fee. Women parolees reported that they only ask for financial assistance in paying the monthly parole fee if they absolutely needed help. The women parolees acknowledged the fact that their families are struggling financially and they feel guilty asking for financial support when their loved ones provided them with financial support while they were incarcerated. Twenty-eight percent (n = 17) said that the monthly supervision fee places a financial strain on themselves and their families. However, the majority of the women parolees reported that they make an effort each month to pay the supervision fee.

The women parolees perceived the monthly supervision fee of US$30 to be an additional financial hardship but one that they accepted as a condition of their parole. The women parolees felt comfortable going to their parole officer if they missed a monthly payment. Thirty-three percent (n = 20) indicated that they had fallen 1 to 3 months behind in their parole supervision fee since being on parole. Women parolees talked about struggling to keep their parole fees current in payment and how they prioritized paying their supervision fee. Harriet, a 64-year-old Caucasian parolee stated, “I would pay that [parole supervision fee] if I didn’t ever eat. I don’t ever want them [parole officers] coming after me. If I have to not pay another bill, I am going to pay my supervision fee.” Three women parolees were approved to be exempted from paying supervision fees. Women parolees who have serious medical conditions, extensive medical expenses, or other justified expenses can apply for an exemption. Samantha, a 32-year-old African American parolee with three children, was approved for an exemption because she owed US$705 in back child support and US$2,000 in restitution fees. Her entire paycheck was garnished for child support, making the payment of her monthly supervision fee near impossible.

“We Can’t Pay Our Bills”

Women parolees identified monthly expenses as rent, utilities, transportation, food, clothing, child care, health care, parole fees, fines, and restitution. The primary source of income for the majority of the women parolees was employment salary, although 76% (n = 29) of those employed stated that they do not make enough money to pay their monthly bills. Other nonsalary financial support that women received included food stamps (25%, n =15); Medicaid (15%, n = 9); and social security (0.05%, n = 3). As can be seen, the majority (55%, n = 33) were not receiving any government assistance. When discussing government assistance, a few women stated that they receive subsidized child care and insurance for their dependent children.

Jersey, a 64-year-old Caucasian parolee who served 27 years in prison in two states, discussed how she manages her limited income:

I manage. I have to be a very economical person. It don’t take much at my age because I don’t care about going anywhere any more or out on the town or none of that kind of stuff. As long as my rent is paid, my parole fee, and I have groceries, I’m okay. I don’t really need that much spending money because I don’t go nowhere to spend it. I manage by only purchasing the mere necessities.

Jersey’s sentiments about reconceptualizing how she spends her money were echoed by several parolees who modified their lifestyles to live within their perceived economic means. Marilyn, a 40-year-old African American mother of four who has been on parole twice, illustrated the hardship that many women face on parole when she stated:

I live paycheck to paycheck. I might have 3 dollars left, but I live check to check. And I don’t even have my children with me; they are with my folks. It’s got to get better. Sometimes I may get a little boost on my check, you know, when I can work a lot of hours or something. When they cut my hours, I don’t even have $1 left and I can’t pay all my bills that month. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get my children back.

A small percentage (13%) of mothers in the study had children who were still living with relatives because they could not financially take care of their children. Child care expenses, including day care fees, clothing, food, and school supplies, were another concern and worry for the women parolees. Samantha, a 37-year-old mother of three children, who was exempted from paying her monthly parole fee because of her financial situation stated,

My check from my job go straight to my mother. She has two of my children and she is keeping them because of the money. It is all about money. Yes, my check goes straight to her. I live straight off my tips. I worked overtime for my last two checks but I don’t even get them. Cause they goes to child support. And I want them to get my checks because I don’t want to go to prison no more. But I gotta live too and its hard.

Another area of financial contention for women parolees was medical expenses. Sixty-three percent (n = 38) had medical problems (e.g., heart condition, back problems, asthma, cancer, hepatitis C, diabetes, HIV/AIDs) that needed medical attention, but only 33% had medical insurance. A few of the women parolees who had medical insurance with their jobs lost the insurance when they were laid off or had to drop their insurance because they could not afford it.

Some women who did not have medical insurance applied for what they called a “Blue Card.” The blue card allowed women to pay a reduced co-pay based on their income. However, the process of using the blue card to see a medical doctor was a daunting task as described by Louise, a 44-year-old Caucasian parolee with multiple medical problems:

I have the Blue Card. It takes me two months to get an appointment. I had an ear infection for four months that broke out my whole ear. I kept going to the doctor and they kept making me regular appointments month to month but I could never see a doctor when I went. I was calling and was coming back telling them my ear is draining. The lady at the front desk kept saying, “Well, we don’t have no emergency appointments, you will just have to wait on your appointment.” And I am like, not having insurance is something. This is hard.

In the absence of medical insurance, some women were unable to receive medical care for their medical problems.

Conclusion and Discussion

The objective of the research study was to give voice and meaning to women parolees’ experiences with the economic challenges of reentry. The general findings of the study reveal that women face insurmountable economic challenges that are complicated by their ex-felon stigma. The most significant barrier that all of the parolees identified was employment. The women parolees study participants were not asking for “hand-outs”; rather, they wanted more guidance and assistance in improving their economic situations. The majority of the women parolees wanted to live law-abiding lives in the community and to be self-sufficient. For many of the women parolees, their immediate financial goal was to have a job with enough salary to pay for housing, transportation, food, parole supervision fee, child care expenses, clothes, and a limited amount of money for unexpected situations. Given the social vulnerabilities of parolees reentering the community and the potential to revert to engaging in risky behaviors, the attainment of economic self-sufficiency is very important. If the stigma of ex-felon prohibits women parolees from obtaining employment, housing, and the financial power to take care of their children, the reengagement in commercial sex work and theft to secure money to support themselves is likely to occur. Once women parolees reconnect with their old network systems, drug relapse or reoffending may be inevitable. The lack of a workable discharge plan makes reentry a very tentative situation and renders the parolees vulnerable to participating in high risk behaviors.

Employment planning for women reentering the community from prison should begin when they are in prison. It is important that correctional facilities and reentry programs coordinate available employment services so that when women are released from prison, they have a strategic plan for securing a job. Women parolees will then know what services to access, the location of the services, and how to access the services. It would be helpful if women who reenter the community as parolees receive assistance with multiple needs in a centralized location (Richie, 2001). If discharge plans are not clear, realistic, and valid, parolees will be less likely to follow through with the plans. The lack of discharge planning leads to the basic needs of parolees not being met (Luther, Reichert, Holloway, Roth, & Aalsma, 2011).

Employment allows women parolees to reject the stigma they face by becoming productive members of the labor force and fulfilling other financial obligations including housing. Finding suitable housing was a secondary priority for the women parolees. Tumultuous relationships between women parolees and family members prior to incarceration prevent some parolees from seeking housing with family members. Although some women parolees may not prioritize housing as an immediate need because their housing needs are fulfilled by family members (Lund et al., 2009), women parolees in other studies (Singer, Bussey, Song, & Lunghofer, 1995) and the current study felt that finding housing was one of their top priorities. Women parolees have to be strategic and purposeful in seeking housing considering the number of times parolees move before settling into permanent housing.

A comprehensive understanding of how women relate to their parole status and how parole functions in their lives can provide insights into what women parolees need to achieve success on parole and to navigate the reentry process. Clearly, parole success for women requires innovative and interdisciplinary efforts for identifying gender-responsive needs (Van Voorhis, Salisbury, Wright, & Bauman, 2008), with a focus on complex, interwoven economic challenges. Furthermore, parole success requires collaborative efforts from both parole and social service agencies as well as the complete cooperation of parolees. Successful reintegration can become a reality when parolees are connected to effective reentry programs that provide assistance with employment, housing, transportation, child care expenses, and other basic economic needs. The economic challenges that women face must be addressed by programming that is designed to make women parolees self-sufficient and less likely to recidivate.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank the State of Alabama Board of Pardons and Parole, district managers, and parole supervisors for providing access to the women parolees, an interview space, and meaningful discussions.

Author’s Note

The views reflected in the article represent the views of the author and not necessarily the views of the Alabama Board of Pardons and Parole.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Author Biography

Ida M. Johnson is a professor in the Department of Criminal Justice, University of Alabama. Her research interests include domestic violence, incarcerated women, women parolees, and date rape. She has published numerous research articles and is the co-author of Forced Sexual Intercourse in Intimate Relationships.

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