The Impact of Legal-Financial Obligations on Relationships With Family,Friends,and Acquaintances: A Qualitative Study of Community Supervised Men With Sexual and Nonsexual Offense Convictions

Study Site

This analysis draws on data from two related studies that considered the experiences of system-impacted people in Missouri. The first study employed a matched sample design where individuals convicted of sexual offenses were oversampled and compared with persons not convicted of sexual offenses. This sample included individuals on probation, parole, and in prison at the time of their interview, but all participants had been on parole in the past (Huebner et al., 2013). The second study only included individuals under probation and parole supervision (Pleggenkuhle, 2018) and was designed to recruit more individuals with nonsexual offense convictions for matched comparison against the original sample.

Missouri is a suitable location for the study of LFOs because individuals are typically assessed for both sentencing and post-conviction costs. Individuals in Missouri on community supervision are required to pay a monthly “Intervention Fee” of $30 which funds supervision-related costs. In the past, individuals on community supervision in Missouri were assessed specific fees for substance abuse assessment and treatment, mental health assessment and treatment, electronic monitoring services, residential facilities services, and employment placement services, but now they are subsumed under the single “Intervention Fee” (Missouri Department of Corrections, 2021b). Individuals convicted of sexual offenses are additionally assessed an average of $35 per week for sex offense-specific mandated treatment and an annual or biannual $250 polygraph. These costs have remained stable since the study data were collected from 2010 to 2012.

Data

Both studies relied on the same sampling strategies. Individuals were recruited to participate in the studies via four community supervision offices, one community program center, one state-run transitional housing facility, and one prison in Missouri. Recruitment locations were purposefully selected to maximize sample diversity across the state and to capture a range of offense types (Cresswell, 2012). Potential participants on probation and parole were recruited on random reporting days at community supervision offices, the community program center, and the transitional housing facility. Researchers waited at each of the facilities on days where probation officers met with potential participants to hold interviews on the same day and maximize participation. At the completion of meetings with clients, probation officers invited individuals to participate using a short explanation of the project. Then, researchers were able to meet with participants, answer any additional questions about the study, and conduct interviews. Potential participants in prison were recruited with assistance from the Department of Corrections’ facility supervisors. Corrections personnel were given an institutional review board (IRB)-approved noncoercive script to read to potential participants. After individuals in prison agreed to participate, corrections personnel helped arrange interview times with researchers.

In total, 131 men under correctional supervision participated in the studies, and data were collected from 2010 to 2012. Each of the participants engaged in one semi-structured, in-depth interview. Interviews were digitally recorded and transcribed and lasted approximately 1 hr. Each participant was assigned a unique pseudonym and interview transcripts were imported into the qualitative coding software NVivo for analysis. Except for those who were in prison at the time of their interviews, each participant was offered $20 for their time. Approximately 74.8% of participants were on parole, 8.4% were on probation, and 16.8% were in prison at the time of the interviews. Additional sample criteria stipulated participants had experienced a recent release from prison or conviction so they would have community supervision-related experiences to discuss.

Individuals convicted of a sexual offense were oversampled, but many participants convicted of sexual offenses also reported having engaged in property and drug offenses. Based on the 131 participants’ most recent conviction, 55.0% of the sample were convicted of a sexual offense, 17.6% were convicted of other person-related offenses, 14.5% were convicted of property offenses, and 13.0% were convicted of drug offenses. Importantly, the participants’ narratives cannot be generalized to the broader population of individuals who have been assessed LFOs but instead provide a detailed picture of how this particular sample of men navigates payment of monetary sanctions. While criminal convictions in general may be quite stigmatizing, sexual offenses convictions may compound both structural and social stigma. Individuals with these convictions are statutorily limited in where they live and work and are socially stigmatized because citizens may perceive this group as more dangerous than persons convicted of other offenses (Huebner et al., 2019). Thus, the narratives presented in this analysis may reflect experiences where individuals receive less social support than persons with other conviction types. Approximately one-third of the men were non-White (29.8%) and participants were, on average, 38 years old. ¹ A little less than half (47.7%) of the participants on probation or parole were employed at the time of the interview and the median hourly wage for those employed was $8. Around two thirds (60.3%) of participants possessed at least a high school diploma or GED (graduate equivalent diploma).

Interview Materials

Interview guides for both studies were created with prior research in mind that addressed community supervision experiences (Visher et al., 2004) and specific experiences with LFOs (Beckett et al., 2008; Diller et al., 2009). Participants were asked to recall experiences with employment, social support, and housing, enumerate their LFOs, and describe their experiences with them. LFOs assessed at the time of sentencing (e.g., court costs, restitution, public defender fees, fines, and victim harm fund contributions) were triangulated with publicly available court data. I define “financial support” as the monetary assistance and other instrumental support received by individuals with LFOs because individuals rely on piecemeal support in the form of housing, transportation, connections to employment, and basic needs to be able to pay LFOs (Boches et al., 2022; deVuono-Powell et al., 2015; Nagrecha et al., 2015) and differences in the provision of monetary assistance and instrumental support are primarily attributed to socioeconomic status rather than culture (Sarkisian et al., 2007; Sarkisian & Gerstel, 2004).

To address how individuals negotiate financial support, participants were asked questions about how they pay their LFOs. For instance, after asking individuals to enumerate their LFOs and other monthly expenses (e.g., housing, transportation, and basic needs) researchers asked individuals questions like, “How are you paying for your fines and fees?” and “Do you have other people support you financially or do you have to cover your expenses?” To assess the implications of negotiation on relationships, participants were asked how LFOs affected their time in the community and how financial support made them feel. For example, participants were asked, “How have fines and fees affected your time on parole/probation?” and “Does owing money to the state affect your life at all?” After providing information on receiving financial support, participants were asked, “Has receiving financial support for LFOs had any effect on your relationship?”

Analysis

Interviewers for this project adopted a “constructivist epistemology,” meaning researchers focused on the structures and contexts in which participants are embedded to capture an intense level of understanding about who exerts control over what processes (Charmaz, 2014). Thus, I was able to assess how participants conceived of financial support with LFOs under the broader locus of correctional control and embedded within their social networks. Given existing research that suggests individuals with monetary sanctions rely on others (e.g., Nagrecha et al., 2015), I used a modified grounded theory approach to analyze the data (Corbin & Strauss, 2008). I coded data inductively but with the sensitizing concept “independence” in mind. These initial starting points for analysis are termed, “sensitizing concepts” because they guide researchers along a particular path of discovery (Blumer, 1954).

The data were first coded line-by-line, meaning small sections of words were given a basic description to specify what that portion of data represents (Glaser, 1978). Open coding cataloged all references to LFOs and how participants paid them. In all, 125 of the participants made references to LFOs and enumerated them during interviews. Then, I used Charmaz’ (2014, p. 148) modified axial coding framework as a focused coding strategy. This strategy involved mapping out the components of financial support negotiation in an idea web and writing analytic memos to develop and revise codes using the constant comparative method. I compared segments of data within and across interviews to confirm the presence of thematic patterns and identify any “deviant cases” that would invalidate such patterns (Glaser & Strauss, 1967).

Indebtedness to Family Members: “She’s Sort of Like the PO”—Calvin

Participants stressed family members were committed to helping them pay LFOs. Participants felt inclined to pay relatives back in the long term, remain free from system contact, or both. These unbalanced arrangements prompted emotional upset in participants because they were concerned about not being able to reciprocate. In some instances, participants relayed their family members were worried about them returning to prison, obliging them to provide financial support. Family members went to great lengths to help pay LFOs (e.g., working more than full-time, locating odd jobs) for fear that their system-impacted relatives would return to prison. Participants seemed keenly aware that without financial support from family members, they risked probation or parole violations and re-incarceration and sometimes feared being socially and financially cut off from relatives.

Anthony described when he was released he was unemployed and he drove, “about 100 miles a week” to treatment related to his sexual offense conviction and paid, “$30 a month” for intervention fees, “plus $30-35 a week” for treatment. Anthony’s sentencing costs included $500 for a public defender and $68 to the state victim harm fund. Anthony signaled his wife’s obligation to care for him when he noted, “she won’t complain, she hasn’t missed a day of work in 15 years” and explained, “there’s an element of my wife and I love her dearly for it, of saviorism and protectorism, she watches out for me probably 100 times more than I do.” Although his wife acted as his “savior” and “protector,” he highlighted the emotional distress this unbalanced arrangement caused, stating:

We’re putting all this money out for classes and this that and the other . . . and there was times I was in tears. Because I wanted to be working so bad, and I knew my wife was really struggling, really struggling, she was working 70-80 hours a week, just to keep the roof over our head.

Anthony was frustrated he could not reciprocate the financial support and noted that his wife regularly threatened to leave him if he went back to prison, expressing, “It happens every day, and she told me the day I was released, she told me the whole time I was in, she said, ‘You ever come back to prison on another offense, I’m gone.’” Anthony’s wife was willing to provide financial support but only under the condition that he remained crime free.

Randall owed, “like $900” in court costs and, “$30 a month” for intervention fees related to a weapons violation. When asked if he had to pay for drug testing, he replied, “I think she [parole officer] just told me it was uh, $125” one-time fee. Randall also owed a $65 fee to the state victim harm fund. In addition, Randall stated intake for drug treatment “costs like $130” and the actual course, “would probably be another $120.” Randall was unemployed at the time of his interview and noted “I’m basically livin’ off my wife” to pay LFOs. Randall explained, “She’s willing to do this because she know in due time I will work, I love to work, I’ve been working since I was 15. And she’d rather me, she’d rather maintaining it than me go out and risk goin’ back to jail.” Participants noted family members would prefer to pay LFOs than see them reincarcerated, but family members also stipulated they would not provide support without agreement the participant would eventually find employment and reciprocate the lending.

Calvin owed, “$10 and something” for court costs related to a property offense. He explained his children’s mother, “would send me money from time to time and you know, they take so much off,” meaning the state had garnished his commissary funds to pay LFOs. He owed money on a, “previous case, on that intervention stuff. And that’s like $870.” He also owed $50 for a public defender fee and “$26 I think” for the state victim harm fund. Calvin discussed he had, “to pay $30 a month to come here [community supervision office]” and “I have to go to anger management and substance abuse,” but was unsure how much the classes would cost. When asked how much he pays in rent, Calvin stated,

Well, I give my kids’ mother a hundred dollars every two weeks. But she’s sort of like the PO officer. She’s giving me a break right now. Until I find a job. So it’s basically like I’m caught between a rock and a hard spot, because I have to pay all this over here for the PO, and then I have to pay her. She’s not saying that she doesn’t want my money, she’s just saying I don’t have to pay it right now. But I still gotta make that up for her when I get the job so basically, it’s like I’m gonna be working for free. Cause I gotta pay this off, and I gotta pay her.

Although Calvin noted he would eventually repay the financial support from his children’s mother, he felt indebted to her as surrogate, “PO.”

In addition, Robert was obligated to pay the $30 per month intervention fee and a $68 fee for the state victim harm fund for a property offense, but family members helped support him financially:

They helped me a lot. They put clothes on my back. They put a lil, when they can they a little change in my pocket, put food in mouth, you know what I’m sayin,’ till I go apply for me some stamps myself. And uh they make sure I’m doing the right thing. Stay away from my old negative friends, know what I’m sayin,’ and be around my family. Cause I wasn’t around my family then, I was on my own. So by me being around my family, they make sure I stay in line a lot, and they just love to see me back home with ‘em.

In exchange for financial support, family members made sure he stayed away from friends who might be a negative influence on his ability to remain out of prison. These participants’ family members paid their LFOs with little initial hesitation, but because the participants could not reciprocate in a balanced way, they became indebted to their relatives and relatives pushed them to remain free from justice system contact.

Although most of the narratives were dominated by concerns about reciprocity, there was one instance of unconditional support that did not fit with this theme. It was not possible to determine the motivations for this arrangement made without reciprocity from the narrative. Raymond discussed his ex-wife, “sent $200” for LFOs despite their divorce. He stated, “She said ‘I don’t need the money back.’ She still is working yet. She’s beyond retirement age and we talk at least once a week.” While some of the relatives mentioned in the preceding narratives stated they did not need to be paid back right away, the relatives asked for payment at some later date.

Loan Agreements and Informal Work: “You Just Gotta Find Somebody That’s Willing to Work With You”—Barry

Participants conducted relational work to make loan agreements and find informal work to pay LFOs with family, friends, and acquaintances. Participants did not state this form of negotiation impacted their relationships negatively, but they made considerable efforts to reciprocate and locate opportunities. Sometimes, these negotiations appeared to impact participants in a positive manner when they described that their abilities to do trade and informal work made them feel like they could contribute something to the relationship. Terry was in prison at the time of his interview but explained he had relied on family in the past to pay LFOs. At his most recent release, he owed $46 to the state victim harm fund, “a $5,000 fine and $3,000 restitution” related to a sexual offense conviction. He described his monetary sanctions “were paid by my family and I cosigned and repaid them loans.” He conveyed this agreement was mutually beneficial because he had been working with his father and a partner to install flooring stating, “We worked on our own and we were self-employed. That was an ideal situation.” In exchange for the loan, Terry helped his father generate income.

Likewise, Barry owed $120 in court costs and $68 to the state victim harm fund related to a drug conviction, both of which were paid by the time of his release via garnishment of his inmate commissary account. When he was released, he paid intervention fees at “$30 every month.” Barry described his friends, “have just been my backbone” and he borrowed, “anywhere between a hundred to two hundred” dollars from them, “every month, at least once a month” to pay LFOs. He noted borrowing money made his relationships with his friends, “become stronger.” When asked why, he stated, “Because they see, you know, I’m not just asking for a handout, but you’re willing to give them something for what you’re asking them to give you.” Barry discussed he paid back money whenever he borrowed and offered to exchange informal work:

I try to give it back so if I ever need it again. I try to do work for it. Whatever I can offer. Move, cut the grass, take out the trash. Paint. Whatever I can. So I just don’t ask for it, say, “you got some work I can do?”

Barry described, “I’m willing to do whatever need to be done, you just gotta find somebody that’s willing to work with you,” convincing people he would reciprocate.

Leroy’s court costs were waived, but he owed $46 to the state victim harm fund and, “almost $400” in back intervention fees associated with a weapons violation. He also discussed he owed a private attorney, “like $6,000.” To pay his intervention fees, he participated in informal work with friends:

My friend had a truck so we did a, like a lot of hauling. Stuff like that. Cause it was hard to find a job. We did a lot of hauling, like junk stuff, move people, furniture like stuff like that. But I never really had no job, for real.

Leroy explained he looked for work by asking others. He further noted he occasionally worked construction:

Uh, like it’d be construction. Like somebody would be short, some people here pay us like $80 to $100 to go work for the day. Knock on doors, handing out fliers. Like any kind of little things anybody will pay me for, for real. That’s legal.

Leroy looked for work, “On Craigslist. Snag-a-job. I ride around, walk.” He explained his ex-girlfriend also used to provide him with opportunities, stating, “Like I used to do stuff around the house for her. And like I used to get paid for it. So it was like I was working for real.” He noted family members were willing to loan him money, “Cause I guess they knew they’d get it back in return.” Leroy engaged in relational work to find informal employment and diligently repaid others whenever he borrowed money.

Similarly, Vincent described that he was assessed, “around $3,000” in court costs and restitution for driving while intoxicated (DWI), but had paid a portion, so, “it’s down to about $1,100.” He explained he paid his LFOs by piecing together income from carpentry jobs found through word of mouth:

It’s kind of like a network type deal. More word of mouth. First people I did a job for, they knew that I really needed the job.

When asked if he had any trouble finding work because of his criminal record, he stated:

Well no, I’ve been upfront with everybody, cause most people I work for, they all know me. Generally, there were people through my parish, and uh, through them they introduced me to somebody else.

Relational work with others at his church led Vincent to more opportunities. He described he maintained connections at his church by going, “to mass as many times as I possibly can. When I was at home I went every day.” Participants who relied on informal work from others and used loans to pay their LFOs built trust with individuals in their community and their relatives.

Appeals of Necessity: “I Know They Know It’s for a Worthy Cause and I’m not Sittin’ Here Throwing Money Into the Sewer”—Ray

Participants conducted relational work to convince their social network that they were worthy of financial support and some stressed they only used this tactic when in dire need. Individuals in this study convinced others that their monthly expenses were insurmountable, they could not find employment, or they had difficulty providing for their children. Concerns about reciprocity also dominated these discussions and participants feared becoming indebted to others even if they thought their social networks would initially be willing to help. Thus, participants primarily reserved this negotiation technique for emergencies, limiting the short-term mobilization of financial support. LFOs added to participants’ stress by increasing their financial responsibilities and creating fear around the consequences of non-reciprocation.

Ray explained the intervention fees associated with his robbery conviction were hard to pay:

Like that 30 dollars a month—I have to, every month. My utilities. I know the day my rent is due on the 1^st. After the 5^th they charge you a late fee. Then, all my bills come at one time. Like the middle of the month, like the 17^th and the 18^th in that month, all of that comes at once. And see that, that kind of has me on a tug of war. See sometimes I have to skip paying them so I can make sure that I can pay my rent. And my utilities. And then sometimes it kind of hurts me when I do that.

Ray stated he was behind on the intervention fees when he said, “I am down $30.” When asked if he borrowed money or asked for loans, he said he tried to avoid it:

Cause I don’t like to owe anyone. It’s bad enough I barely can make ends meet, take care of my necessities, for in my household. I just don’t like that. I mean, to them, I wouldn’t mind asking them, because I know they know it’s for a worthy cause and I’m not sittin’ here throwing money into the sewer, saying here you can have it.

Although Ray relayed that he would not mind asking for help in times of emergency, he preferred to avoid it for fear of becoming indebted to others.

Troy discussed he owed, “Court fees. I have court fees for being in this county jail. They charge you 30-something dollars a day” and was, “there for like four months” for robbery and assault convictions. He estimated fees associated with incarceration amounted to, “$3,600 just on that alone.” Troy also owed, “$30 a month” for intervention fees, and stated he paid court costs when he said, “I think that was like $64.” Troy noted that if he engaged in relational work with his siblings he would be able to get financial support, but tried to avoid asking:

So if I needed some money from any one of my siblings, and if they know what it’s for and I need it, quite sure they’d give it to me. But. I don’t know, just prideful like that. I wouldn’t ask. I think they did enough. They did me right. And I should be able to take them, what they give me and show them that I can succeed. And then return the favor to them.

Troy’s siblings would give him money if he had a dire need, but he described “it’s got to be stressful for them.” Relational work was a last resort for Troy because he wanted to be able to reciprocate.

Ricky explained he pieced together income from, “tattooing. And right now I’m doing construction” as well as, “some side work with my father and uncle.” The income did not cover his expenses because, “My fiancé, you know, we’ve got three kids, plus I’ve got two more without her. So, no. It doesn’t cover mine.” He thought he paid a, “couple hundred bucks” in court costs and a, “couple hundred bucks to victim’s comp” for a property offense conviction and parole violations, but the, “only thing I haven’t paid is the intervention fees” for which he owed, “300 bucks.” When asked if he had to go to his family for help paying LFOs stated, “Lately I have. Lately I have. That just kills me.” When questioned if borrowing money was stressful or affected his relationships, he said, “Sometimes, yeah. But they also know that I’m being a great daddy, and doing my thing. I’m clean. Back in the day it didn’t used to be like that.” Although borrowing money from his family could be stressful, Ricky was able to convince them paying LFOs would help him take care of his children. Even when participants relayed their social network did not mind supporting them financially, they had to justify support with appeals of necessity.

Policy Implications

Although the participants in this study often did not have the means to pay, they were routinely assessed LFOs at the discretion of system actors during sentencing and while on community supervision. Although some states have clear standards to waive LFOs at sentencing and during community supervision, many lack the appropriate mechanisms to systematically determine a person’s ability to pay and instead rely on system actors (e.g., judges, probation and parole officers) to discretionarily determine it (Friedman et al., 2022; Ruhland et al., 2021). Thus, jurisdictions utilizing LFOs should improve or establish the path to legal indigence. Although some participants in this study held gainful employment with sustained income, most would qualify as legally indigent. As is the case in Missouri, state-mandated court and community corrections’ assessments of indigence may ask defendants to enumerate their entire household income, regardless of whether they share that income with their household. Indigence is notoriously difficult to demonstrate because individuals may not have the required information necessary at the time of the legal hearing or when communicating with probation and parole officers (Boches et al., 2022; Friedman & Pattillo, 2019). For instance, individuals in this sample may not know or be able to document their household income, or household members may be unwilling or unable to provide financial documentation to this effect (Boches et al., 2022; Friedman & Pattillo, 2019). Probation officers additionally may assess probationers’ material goods (e.g., car, clothing, cell phone, cigarettes) and determine whether the individual can pay but is choosing not to pay, potentially exposing them to additional sanctions like incarceration (Friedman et al., 2022; Ruhland et al., 2020). Participants in this study reported regularly sharing material goods with family and friends (i.e., cars and clothing), which could potentially influence probation and parole officers’ assessments.

Eliminating requirements that individuals enumerate their household income and reducing some system actor discretion may reduce LFOs’ disparate impact. Discretionary imposition of monetary sanctions at sentencing may be reduced if courtroom personnel are required to use bench cards with clear guidelines to evaluate the individual ability to pay, rather than the household ability to pay, and “willful nonpayment” (Friedman et al., 2022). A bench card contains a summary of information that courtroom personnel must consider when evaluating ability to pay and sample questions to ask when determining ability to pay (see e.g., Washington State Supreme Court Minority and Justice Commission, 2018). In the case of the current sample, bench cards could eliminate the ability of judicial actors to make decisions about ability to pay based on sharing material goods with others and instead determine whether the particular individual receiving the sanctions, as opposed to the household, has access to stable income. Ruhland and colleagues (2021) additionally suggest that the language in statutes governing ability to pay community supervision costs could be made clearer. For example, even when states recommend certain conditions (e.g., mental and physical health) be taken into account when imposing community supervision costs, statutes may not provide language about how the conditions should be considered. Other scholars have recommended the use of graduated LFOs based on income to reduce some of the disparate impact of the sanctions on those with limited economic means (Link, 2019; Pleggenkuhle, 2018). This type of graduated LFO is referred to as a “day fine” and is commonly used in European nations (Hillsman, 1990; Kantorowicz-Reznichenko, 2018). Similar to the use of bench cards, it is necessary to recommend any use of day fines be calculated using the system-impacted person’s income rather than their household income. Under the day fine model, participants in this sample would likely qualify for significantly reduced or eliminated sanctions based on minimum wage employment or lack of employment.

Limitations and Future Directions

This study provides new information about how men with LFOs garner financial support from others outside what is traditionally considered “family” and what impact they believe that process has on their relationships but did not address how participants’ social networks conceived of this financial support. Future research in this arena should ascertain how those who provide support for monetary sanctions think about it for a fuller understanding of LFOs’ reach (see also Boches et al., 2022). It is also important to note that the data used in this study were collected from 2010 to 2012, prior to the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic affected some interpersonal relationships because governments implemented social distancing policies that cut off many persons from their friends and family (Saladino et al., 2020). As people have become more isolated, they may have fewer resources to draw upon than the individuals in this sample. Future research should address how the pandemic has affected access to social support and the potential long-term collateral consequences.

Slightly more than half of the men in the sample had been convicted of a sexual offense, which potentially exposed them to structural and social discrimination. Existing scholarship shows people with sexual offense convictions can have strong familial support but may have trouble making and maintaining relationships with friends and are often statutorily limited in where they can live and work (Huebner et al., 2019). Given this limited access to resources, it is likely the majority of the sample had less access to instrumental goods and social support from friends than persons with other conviction types. Future research should address whether the themes in this analysis can be applied to other groups.

Moreover, questions about how gender and race impact the negotiation of financial support were outside of the purview of this study. Researchers were only able to complete interviews with four women. These interviews were excluded because they differed substantially from the interviews with men and there was insufficient theoretical saturation to analyze their interviews separately (Charmaz, 2014). As the purpose of the original study was to understand the experiences of individuals convicted of sexual offenses compared with those convicted of nonsexual offenses, women proved particularly difficult to reach at the field sites. Hoppe (2016) estimates that only 2% of the individuals required to register with sex-offense-specific databases are women. Further, men and women tend to have different approaches to finances and may communicate in different ways (Basow & Rubenfeld, 2003; Newcomb & Rabow, 1999), potentially impacting how they negotiate financial support from others and how they view the impact of negotiation. For example, the women who completed interviews discussed a desire to maintain relationships with their adult or minor children and that they tried to stay away from making friends and acquaintances who could potentially assist them with LFOs. Instead of searching out informal opportunities for work to pay LFOs, the women typically sought out employment in the formal economy. The women reported that they relied on friends and family for housing at times, but more research is needed to explore how the women negotiated this support and how they perceived it.

Participants in this study identified primarily as White men and relied on many different support sources, which may not represent the experiences of women and/or people of color. Evidence suggests access to social capital is partly dependent on race and gender, where being male and white can increase one’s access to resources (Yang et al., 2021). White and high socioeconomic status (SES) persons may receive less financial assistance from their networks, yet have access to more influential modes of nonmaterial support like advice and instrumental resources (Schafer & Vargas, 2016). People of color and/or women additionally tend to have less access to high-status and influential persons because social networks are segregated by race and gender. Women may also rely more on close friends and family members, limiting their access to financial resources (McDonald & Day, 2010). Future analyses could compare how people of different gender and racial identities access financial support. Last, individuals who participated in this study were only interviewed one time about their experiences with LFOs. Future research should address whether the impacts of negotiation of financial support described in this study impact individuals’ trajectories in the longer term.