Abstract
Women provide support for many vulnerable groups, work that is frequently discounted with gendered stereotypes. One growing vulnerable group is former prisoners who often return to women family members. We completed a qualitative study with 25 former prisoners and criminal justice staff to examine their conceptualizations of the demands placed on women supporters of former prisoners. Results indicate a significant burden of support experienced by women, discounted by prisoners and criminal justice staff through a dynamic of gendered idealization and stigmatization. Implications include the importance of exposing this dynamic and providing supports to decrease the burden of care that women experience.
Women are delegated the role of primary providers of care and support for many vulnerable groups in the community, including children (Garey, Hansen, Hertz, & MacDonald, 2002), older adults (Ron, 2009), and individuals with chronic health conditions (MacRae, 1995). Most often, this work is informal and unpaid (Garey et al., 2002), and is frequently unacknowledged, unsupported, and grounded in assumptions about caregiving as a “natural” role for women (Barnett, 2004). Feminist literature has examined both the strengths and limitations of this link between women and caring, articulating the importance of women’s ethics of caring (Gilligan, 1982) as well as the risks to women’s well-being and autonomy inherent in assumptions of caring (Davion, 1993; Keller, 1997; Koehn, 1998). Defining caregiving as a natural role for women also has implications for broader social policy; the assumption that caring and support are natural parts of women’s identity allows society to minimize the importance and value of this work, and is a part of the dynamics of gendered oppression experienced by women (Gray, 2010; Scheyett, 1990).
One large and expanding group requiring community-based support is individuals being released from the criminal justice system, specifically jails and prisons. It is estimated that approximately 700,000 former prisoners are released into the community in the United States each year (Bloom, 2009). These released individuals are primarily men and struggle to find housing, financial support, health services, and prosocial roles in the community (Bloom, 2009; Wilper et al., 2009). Their struggles are made even more difficult by the stigma of having a criminal record and the barriers to resources that this record creates (Harrison & Schehr, 2004). On release, these men frequently return to family, often to mothers, wives, girlfriends, or other women family members (Comfort, 2007b). Given the expectation placed on women to care for other vulnerable groups, it is likely that providing support to former prisoners is also an expected role and may be one that is stressful and burdensome. In addition, it may be a role subject to the same discounting as other caring roles, seen as a natural part of women’s identity and thus not requiring support or acknowledgment.
Despite the large and ever-increasing population of former prisoners in the community, to date little has been written on the supports and resources women are asked to provide to former prisoners. Similarly, there has been little, if any, research on the ways in which women who support former prisoners are portrayed and the ways in which their work may or may not be acknowledged and supported. Given the important role women play in supporting releasing prisoners, it is crucial that professionals involved in prisoner reentry understand the demands placed on women as supports to former prisoners, understand the dynamics underlying the portrayal of women in these roles, and identify ways in which these dynamics may prevent women from obtaining the supports they need as they care for releasing prisoners.
This study is a first step in filling the gap in our knowledge of women’s support of former prisoners. It is a part of a larger qualitative project examining social supports of released male prisoners, as perceived by the former prisoners and by criminal justice system staff. For this study, the researchers focused on informal supports and looked at responses to the following questions that addressed issues of women: (a) What types of informal social supports do offenders have prior to release and on reentry into the community? (b) What roles do offenders’ informal social supports play in their community reentry?
Method
This project was part of a larger study examining the roles of formal and informal social support in community reentry for releasing prisoners. Study protocol was approved by both the university Behavioral Health Institutional Review Board as well as the Department of Correction (DOC) Human Subjects Review Committee. Our specific focus for this project was on the portrayals of the informal social support roles women played with former prisoners.
Participants
In all, 18 DOC personnel participated in one of three focus groups. Nearly 70% of case managers (n = 11) and 50% of postrelease officers (n = 7) from the recruitment sites participated in focus groups. Of these participants, 22% were African American women, 28% were African American men, 33% were Caucasian men, 11% were Caucasian women, and 6% were Latina woman. Of nine former prisoners contacted, 78% (n = 7) participated in the qualitative interviews. Of the participants, one was Caucasian and the remainder were African American. All were male.
Research Design
Using a qualitative methodology, we completed interviews and focus groups with recently released former prisoners and criminal justice staff, examining their views and experiences of the formal and informal social supports available to men released from prison. For the purposes of this specific study, we attended to expectations participants had and demands they placed on women to provide support to men who are released from prison, as well as how they formulated the roles of women in their support provision.
Procedure
Criminal justice staff focus groups
Three focus groups were conducted with DOC personnel between March and September, 2009. Participants in two of the focus groups were prison-based case managers. The third focus group comprised postrelease supervision officers whose caseloads were primarily prison releasees (rather than individuals on probation). Focus group participants were recruited with the assistance of the chief administration officers in one urban county, selected because of the high percentage of persons releasing from prison to the county each month. The research team was given a list of eligible personnel and their email addresses from the administrators. Once five to eight people responded that they were interested, a focus group was scheduled.
Each focus group lasted approximately 2 hr. All participants signed an informed consent prior to beginning the focus groups. The recruiting researcher facilitated all focus groups, asking about the perceived formal and informal social support available to current and former prisoners. Focus groups were recorded using a digital audio recorder and transcribed for analysis.
Former prisoner interviews
Seven interviews were conducted with men on postrelease supervision residing in the same urban county between March and September, 2009. Eligible participants were men who had been released from prison within the past 9 months, were serving a minimum of a 9-month postrelease supervision sentence, spoke English, and were 18 years of age or older. A research team member worked with the administrative postrelease supervision officers whose assistant provided potential participants a flyer describing the study. If the participant was interested, the assistant would refer the potential participant to a research team member. The research team member and potential participant met in a private office, and the team member described the study and the voluntary nature of their involvement. The participants were not given any incentives to participate in the study. If participants agreed to be interviewed they were given a consent form to review and sign.
Consented participants completed one interview that lasted 30 to 60 min. The interviews were conducted in private by one research team member. Interview questions elicited information about participants’ perceptions of formal and informal social support available and the role of social support in their transition from prison to the community. The interviews were recorded using a digital audio recorder and transcribed for analysis.
Data analysis
Qualitative analyses were conducted by the researcher who facilitated the focus groups and completed the interviews, and by a second researcher. First, the two researchers engaged in independent open-coding, using the sensitizing construct “women.” The coders compared codes and came to consensus on code meanings and strategies. They then engaged in axial coding, theme building, and theory development through an iterative approach involving constant consultation and negotiation to consensus (Padgett, 1998).
Results
Themes From Criminal Justice Staff Focus Groups
Focus groups with DOC staff revealed two major and contradictory themes: Women are a positive resource for a releasing prisoner and women are weak, problematic, and often to blame for the problems of a releasing prisoner.
Women are a positive resource
In the focus groups, it was clear that case managers and parole officers saw women as a major positive resource in the community for releasing prisoners, that is, as individuals who were not themselves engaged in criminal or substance misuse behaviors and willing to share some material resources. When asked how many releasing prisoners had at least one positive person in their life, a case manager responded by saying “I would say all of them, and that would be their mothers.” Another participant noted “You ask them where they are going to live and they say ‘I am going to live with my momma.’ That is what they tell you the whole time.” A parole officer described the ideal placement for releasing prisoners by saying he hoped they would go “home to a mom or a girlfriend’s house . . . or mother and grandmother.” A second officer concurred, stating “I have an indication of how well he is going to do too . . . [if] Mom is already engaged, so I know when I drop him off it is going to be better.” Criminal justice staff saw women not simply as resources for housing but also as people who could help provide support and stability and be positive influences in releasing prisoners’ lives. One told a story about a former prisoner’s wife who worked intensively to provide positive structure for her released husband, saying she “was very supportive . . . I was nervous for him, but she stayed positive and he stayed positive. She kept him in the church, and they were in church like 4 or 5 times a week.”
DOC staff saw women not only as a former prisoner’s most positive community resource, but also as their relationship of last resort. One parole officer stated, “Mom is always going to be there . . . You will always have more of the mothers and grandmothers.” Women were seen as the ones who would be there after all other bridges had been burned and everyone else had abandoned the prisoner, as one participant reported,
I had an inmate recently and he didn’t have anywhere to go. He wanted us to drop him off on the courthouse steps in Atlanta and I contacted his mom in North Carolina and she was like “Yeah, of course I will take my son. I will be there.” . . . We use that as a last resort if they do not have a place.
It also became apparent in the focus groups that case managers and parole officers often saw women as their own last resort when trying to find housing for a releasing prisoner. Placing a releasing prisoner in the community is difficult at best, and DOC staff reported large workloads, with caseloads of 70 or 80 prisoners. Women often became the criminal justice release plan safety net. One case manager described calling a mother to take her son on release because “you got to find Joe Blow a home, and you don’t have time, because you are on the phone all day or something else.” Another captured the central way in which DOC staff rely on women when he described a desperate scramble to find housing for releasees, in cases where no family members would take them in. He finally called any available woman relative “distant aunts who haven’t talked to them in years, and I am like ‘Please, are you sure you don’t have a basement or anywhere he can stay?’” Without women, case managers and parole officers reported facing even greater challenges as they planned for the community reentry of releasing prisoners.
Women are weak and problematic
The second major theme heard in staff focus groups was quite different than the theme discussed above. Rather than portraying women as positive resources, participants painted a picture of women as physically and emotionally weak, unable to stop abuse or exploitation by former prisoners, enabling and to blame for many of a former prisoner’s problems, and bothersome to DOC staff with unreasonable requests. Interestingly, this theme was more prominent than the theme of women as positive resources, with nearly 80% of comments about women falling into this category. Also of interest was the fact that women were sometimes seen as both positive and problematic—positive because they provided a resource such as housing but problematic because the support provided was embedded within dysfunction such as an abusive or enabling relationship.
DOC staff described women as both physically and emotionally weak and vulnerable. Comments were often accompanied by a head-shaking sense of incredulity, as if focus group members could not fully understand how women could allow themselves to be this vulnerable. Participants discussed wives and girlfriends who continued to take back former prisoners who had been physically abusive to them. A participant reported:
I was reading this guy’s crime version and it said he hit his ex-wife with a hammer and he said “I didn’t hit her with a hammer—she had the hammer and I took it so she wouldn’t hit me with it.” I said “Is that where you are going to live?” [and he replied] “Oh yeah, she wants me back.”
A second participant responded to this with “I can believe that . . . They [prisoners] come in with assault on females, that is why they are in prison, but yet that is where they are going back to live when they get out.”
Participants also discussed mothers who were getting “older and sick” and were thus weak, unable to stand up to their former prisoner sons, and easily manipulated. One case manager stated, “They get to a certain age where their momma’s can’t mess with them anymore and they kind of rule the house, never have worked and ain’t gonna start now. They get here and have all their meals cooked for them. ” Another participant told of a former prisoner
who was 40 something years old and he said “Mom I need some smokes.” He is a 40 something man, older than me, asking his mom for money for smokes, who [the mother] is on medication, and he is telling her that she don’t need all that money for medications. . . . He just disgusts me.
In addition to seeing women as weak and vulnerable, participants also viewed women as frequently to blame for former prisoners’ issues. Mothers were seen as infantilizing their sons, one case manager referred to these as “momma’s boys [who] are getting out in their 40s, playing Nintendo at their mom’s house. Calling their momma’s to come and get them.” Conversely, when women refused to enable former prisoners, participants also labeled that a problem, because it often resulted in the released prisoner returning to the streets. As one participant said, “The momma may say ‘you can stay here for a week, but then you have to find somewhere else to go’ and then it starts the cycle [of homelessness and crime] all over again.” According to some participants, setting limits and demanding that the released prisoner contribute to the family income created pressure for former prisoners that could result in their recidivism. A parole officer described such a situation:
If they live with their girlfriend or whatever . . . after 30 days, the newness has worn off and “what are you going to do to contribute to this household? If you can’t get no job, then you are going to have to go back to the streets, we need food and the kids need clothes.” It always goes back to economics.
Women were also blamed for being bad influences regarding illegal substances, influencing former prisoners to both use and deal. Returning to live with them increased former prisoners’ risk of recidivism and relapse. One case manager discussed a former prisoner whose sister was dealing drugs and that “the inmate would go and live with his sister—there is a positive relationship because they are close and what not, but then he ends up getting back in the grind of selling drugs.” Another described a released prisoner who had been doing well in the community until “he met the wrong young lady and started doing ecstasy.”
Finally, case manager participants reported seeing women as a problem or annoyance in their own work while the inmate was still in prison. One described women taking up case manager work time by calling, “usually the mother of some inmates or baby mommas, and that will influence your whole day, just on the phone with silly stuff, know what I’m saying?” A second agreed, saying that women often called asking “How is he doing, he hasn’t wrote home, is he alright?” Participants also reported that, in collusion with the prisoner, women would call and request that the prisoner be transferred to a different prison camp, ostensibly to participate in a particular program, but really simply to have the prisoner closer to home. A participant described a mother calling and saying,
‘My son wants to come to your camp to get into your programs, what does he need to do?’ Most of the time they get in programs to manipulate where they want to go and what prison they want to go to. They come here for the brick class here not because they really want to be a brick mason, but it is really because their family lives here.
Themes From Released Prisoner Interviews
When interviewed about social supports, recently released prisoners identified women, particularly mothers and other women family members, as tremendously important resources as well. Themes from these interviews included women are sources of concrete and material resources; women are sources of emotional support; released prisoners are not providing much to women in return for their support; and women are idealized and self-sacrificing nurturers.
Women provide concrete resources
All of the former prisoners gave examples of concrete and material resources provided by women. The most important resource women provided was a place to live and food to eat. For example, one former prisoner stated that because of his mother and sister “right now I got a roof over my head, I am eating good. There is no telling what would happen if they were gone.” Another reported that “my mom, she provides shelter for me . . . She has always been there for me. Food or whatever I need.” Other participants reported that their women family members provided money or “gave me a car” or “helped me find jobs and stuff.”
Women provide emotional support
Former prisoners reported that women were their primary source of emotional support. A key way women did this was by providing acceptance, by “just talking to me, talking about positive things.” as one participant reported. One former prisoner said that his only support and encouragement was his mother, even while he was in prison; when everyone else had lost contact with him she continued to write and accept him. Another described his sister as being the one who continued to accept and communicate with him because “We are family. We believe in being there for each other.” This acceptance was seen as an important support, something that communicated that the former prisoner was still valuable in the family and community. One former prisoner stated that this acceptance was central to his continued success in the community. When asked how his sister’s and mother’s support had been important to him, he said,
Just letting me know how much they need me out here, how much they want me out here and how much they miss me. You know, when you put that stuff on a scale—it really outweighs the other stuff. You realize what’s worth it and what’s not worth it.
Former prisoners reported that women were also the primary individuals who listened to their concerns and provided encouragement to continue looking for work and stay out of trouble. As an example, one interviewee reported that his sister said to him, “I am gonna try to help you get back on your feet because we want you to stay out [of prison].” When asked who he turned to when feeling discouraged in looking for work, another participant stated, “I will go to my momma, that is about it. She tell me to hang in there . . . that’s all . . . that I ain’t the only one going through this.” Because of this support he wanted to continue living with his mother rather than move to independent living, saying “But I don’t want to leave my momma . . . I don’t really want to leave her because she has supported me all the way.”
Former prisoners do not provide to women
None of the former prisoners interviewed reported providing support or help to women in return for the support they received. Participants varied in their feelings about this lack of contribution. All framed the discussion as a contribution of money, with no conversation regarding providing emotional supports. Some participants stated that they wanted to contribute financially. One stated, “I just need a job, you know, to try to help my mom pay the bills” while another reported that he wanted to be “self-sufficient and generate my own money and take care of my family [mother and sister].” Only one participant expressed remorse at not being able to contribute; when speaking about his child’s mother he reported, “I just be feeling so bad because I can’t do nothing to help her.”
Other participants reported no sense of obligation to contribute and, in fact, saw the lack of pressure to contribute as part of what was helping their success in the community. A participant described the lack of pressure he felt by saying,
I am glad to have it [material support from mother and sister] . . . it helped me out. I don’t have anybody out here telling me to go out and do wrong. You know what I am saying? ‘Do what you got to do to pay the bills.’ I don’t have anyone saying that.
Another former prisoner was pleased with how comfortable he felt accepting help from his mother and family, describing it as,
It’s not a burden being there. It’s like they know I am just getting out. They know I am going to need a place to stay. They know I am going to need food to eat. So rather than me being out there trying to do other things I would rather do it where I am welcomed at. They don’t give me that discomfort feeling . . . It’s a great feeling.
Women are idealized
The majority of former prisoners described the women who supported them in idealized terms, as self-sacrificing, spiritual, natural caregivers. They acknowledged and described these women’s dedication and sacrifice on their behalf, but seemed unable to truly acknowledge the depth and burden of the women’s actions. For example, one participant described how his mother moved her entire household into a better neighborhood just so he wouldn’t “get back to the streets” on release. He stated that his mother “moved out of the old neighborhood that I stayed into a better neighborhood . . . She did that for me. She did that 2 months before I got out”; however, he made no mention of the huge sacrifice and disruption (and possibly increased cost) that such a move entailed. Another participant discussed his mother’s loyalty to him, even when he engaged in criminal behavior, describing her in an idealized fashion and not acknowledging the pain and suffering his criminal activity must have caused her. He reported
I have been in and out of trouble since I was like 15. So, I mean, the only person that ever really stood by me was my mom. Through whether I was wrong or whether I was right, whether I was doing this or doing that—she was there. It didn’t matter you know . . . There is nothing like your mom. Nothing like your mom, you only get one.
Most former prisoners described the women who supported them as naturally good, sometimes spiritually focused. One described his grandmother’s advice to him by saying “[she used to say to me] ‘You done tried everything else in your life, why not try God?’” Perhaps the clearest portrayal of an idealized supportive woman was provided by one former prisoner in describing his aunt. He stated,
She wanted to break into the prison and take me out . . . My aunt is a loving individual and she does what she can for anybody, and if I can just be half of the person she is that would be a blessing. I mean she is, whoa, she takes care of other people’s children just so they can go and provide for their families. For instance, people who have jobs but cannot afford to pay a babysitter.
Discussion
Women, particularly mothers, play a huge informal role in reentry of prisoners into the community. They provide concrete and emotional support, thus assuming burdens and stresses that are both financial and psychological. Both released prisoners and DOC staff acknowledged the contributions of these women. Former prisoners freely discussed the housing, money, transportation, clothing, and food that women provided to them and, in addition, acknowledged the emotional support, acceptance, and encouragement provided to them. Both material and emotional support were seen by former prisoners as ways to “keep me out of trouble.” DOC staff also acknowledged women’s importance. They reported believing that when women were involved, especially mothers, outcomes were better. They also reported seeing women as the ones who could be counted on to provide housing for prison releasees, even when all other options were gone.
Despite the acknowledgment that women are central to the success of released prisoners, little support was reported for women as they shoulder this burden of care. Not only was no support for women reported, but also in these focus groups and interviews, no participants expressed concern about the possible stresses and sacrifices women experienced in providing support to former prisoners. In addition, no consideration was given to the potential injustice of expecting women to assume this burden. Former prisoners were clear that they do not provide support to women, sometimes expressing wishes that they could provide financial support and other times framing this lack of reciprocity as part of the undemanding, “no-pressure” support women provided. Similar to former prisoners, DOC staff made no mention of any kind of resources, services, or education that might be needed by women supporting releasees, and no concern about this lack of support. In fact, it was more likely for the DOC professionals to criticize women who may not have the requisite skills or resources to provide positive support for former prisoners. This lack of concern for the burden of care assumed by women for former prisoners echoes the lack of concern for and oppression of women caregivers identified in feminist literature across a range of systems (Barnett, 2004; Ron, 2009; Scheyett, 1990). In addition, DOC staff’s pathologizing of women who continue to support abusing or exploitive men ignores the dynamics of caring for others at the expense of autonomy and care for self that has been articulated as an oppressive danger for women by some feminist theorists (Koehn, 1998).
In looking at the themes that emerge from this study, interesting and concerning dynamics were observed. One dynamic is similar to that seen with other gendered caregiving roles, that of women as naturally good and nurturing. Here, both former prisoners and DOC staff constructed idealized narratives about women who support men released from prison, narratives that allow them to avoid examining the burden of care women experience. Former prisoners constructed a stereotyped narrative of the idealized woman, who is a “born mother” and who sacrifices to provide supports and resources gladly and without expectation of reciprocity because it is her nature. DOC staff constructed a similar narrative, where women will care for former prisoners when everyone else has abandoned them, and will be good influences on former prisoners and keep them out of trouble. Implicit in this idealized portrayal of women who support former prisoners is the belief that because their care is “natural,” it is not a burden and requires no formalized support or acknowledgment.
However, in addition to this idealization, a second dynamic is seen that is unlike ones seen in many other gendered caregiver roles. Along with characterizing women as accepting and caring of men released from prison, DOC staff also offered a different, more derogatory stereotyped narrative of women. They portrayed women as weak, irrationally demanding, and a pathological part of the problem that caused former prisoners’ flaws and troubles or led to their recidivism. DOC staff did not acknowledge the contradictory nature of their stances, seemingly unperturbed at portraying women simultaneously as positive resources for former prisoners and causes of their problems. This contradictory view of women is not seen with former prisoners, only DOC staff. As discussed above, an idealized view of women allows former prisoners to burden women with their care without concern. Why then might DOC staff need to create an additional derogatory narrative of caring women?
As we contemplated the origins of this different, derogatory dynamic, the authors were reminded of Goffman’s concept of courtesy stigma, that is, stigma grounded in association with a stigmatized group (Goffman, 1963). Close contact with and support of former prisoners, a highly stigmatized group, may result in secondary stigmatization of women by DOC staff. As a stigmatized group themselves, women may then be discounted and discredited, viewed as flawed and worthy of disdain. By creating these two seemingly contradictory narratives, women’s burden of care can be discounted as either not a burden, because it is in women’s nature to care, or not good care, because women, stigmatized by their relationships with former prisoners, are viewed as pathological and harmful.
However, the concept of courtesy stigma alone does not explain why DOC staff would wish to discount, rather than support, women who are caring for former prisoners. It may be that this discounting reflects a tension or discomfort that DOC staff have in acknowledging the importance of the unpaid, nonprofessional work done by women, work that is essential for DOC staff success. As noted by Daly and Lewis (2000),
Care giving has shifted between the realms of paid and unpaid work, a movement that has never been solidly in one direction . . . the interpretation of the meaning and significance of care-related policies for women is not straightforward. (p. 285)
Thus the need to disparage women caregivers may reflect a self-protective stance of the “professional” DOC care providers seeking to justify their positions and protect their paid professional realm. Additional research is certainly needed in this area.
Whatever the underlying dynamics, both the idealized narrative of former prisoners and the idealized/stigmatized duality portrayed by DOC staff allow the groups to ignore the harsh realities of these women’s lives and avoid providing supports and resources and honoring the work women do. Grounded in such narratives, the larger society can also ignore the needs of these women. The collusion of denial obviates the need to develop adequate formal programming and policies to address the support needs of former prisoners and relieves the criminal justice system of the responsibility to develop supports and resources for women who provide informal care to former prisoners. These narratives allow society to avoid admitting that women are the silent safety net of the reentry process from prison. In addition, ignoring the real limitations of women caregivers ignores real unmet needs of former prisoners, decreases the likelihood of their successful community reintegration, and increases their chances of recidivism.
Study Limitations and Future Actions
This was a preliminary exploratory study and thus has a number of limitations. One limitation is that it only examines the dynamic of women caring for released male prisoners; women also provide support to women releasing from prison, albeit the numbers of these women are far fewer than men. A second limitation is the possible lack of generalizability of findings. One area of concern was the difference seen in the relationship with women between the former prisoners in this study and in other studies. Specifically, the men in this study discussed mothers and other women relatives as their main social supports; only one mentioned a partner/girlfriend. Numerous other studies have documented the supports provided by wives and girlfriends to male prisoners as they work to maintain relationships during incarcerations (Comfort, 2007a). This discrepancy warrants additional investigation.
Because the primary focus of the original study was social support and not a gendered research question, an additional study limitation was the fact that interview questions were not specifically targeted to the ways in which former prisoners and DOC staff conceptualize the roles and supports women provide to former prisoners. Perhaps the largest limitation of the study is that it does not capture the voices of women themselves and does not provide women who support former prisoners with an opportunity to report their own experiences as a counterpoint to the narratives constructed for them by study participants. Given that the parent study was more broadly focused on social support, women were not part of the original research. However, additional study to hear women’s direct experiences is essential.
Clearly, future action in this area is needed. Additional research is required to understand more fully the ways in which women who support former prisoners are conceptualized and to create a more generalizable picture of how the dynamics of portrayals of these women contribute to their experiences and oppressions. Beyond understanding, we must begin to develop ways to interrupt this dynamic of idealization and stigmatized discounting and disparagement. We must reveal women’s support of former prisoners as neither “natural” nor pathological, but in fact as significant work done by women that is both a huge burden and a huge contribution to society. This must be coupled with education and advocacy to effect systemic and societal change and to create policies that can ameliorate the burden of care experienced by women who support men released from prison. An additional step could be to explore the informal strengths and resources women who support former prisoners are currently using and, building on these, identify and test additional formal interventions that could be developed to support women. However, intervention with women who support former prisoners is not enough. Formal systems to address former prisoners’ needs must be expanded so that women do not have to assume the role of de facto community support system for prison releasees.
Conclusion
Much has been written about the oppression women experience when caring for elderly family members (Bookman & Harrington, 2007), children (Garey et al., 2002), relatives with a mental illness (Scheyett, 1990), and people with other chronic conditions (MacRae, 1995), referred to by Bookman and Harrington (2007) as a “shadow workforce” in the health and human services system. In addition, much has been written about the dynamics of gendered stereotypes that perpetuate this oppression of care. To date, there has been little examination of the burdens experienced by women who provide support to men returning to the community from prison. This study highlights how the burden of care experienced by women is explained away or discounted through a dynamic of idealization and stigmatization of women and their caring. It is important that the field of criminal justice, particularly reentry practice, names and exposes this dynamic, works at all levels to reframe and honor the support women provide to men releasing from prison, and provides supports to decrease the burden of care they experience.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.