Nowhere to go: since the early 1990s, more women than ever—most of them mothers—have served time in Illinois prisons. Now they're getting out. But what happens when they head home?

Chicago Reporter, The, Oct, 2003 by Leah Samuel

When women get out of prison, there are few places they can go for help, said Fews. There are just a handful of programs, like Leslie's Place and Grace House, on Chicago's South Side, that accept women and their children, she said. "And they're already full."

At Leslie's Place, there are four vacancies, but Brown said she has a waiting list and the beds will soon be occupied. "I've turned down people because I don't have the room," she said.

She said the immediate tasks for women out of prison include establishing "documentation," like a state identification card or a driver's license, which is necessary to look for work or housing, and to seek assistance. Often, they must find substance abuse treatment and counseling.

"Their self-esteem is significantly impaired," said Dennis Delfosse, a licensed psychotherapist with the North Lawndale Employment Network, a West Side agency that helps ex-offenders find jobs. "Some of them have been victims of abuse of some kind, and suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and depressive disorders."

Debbie Denning, deputy director of women and family services for the Illinois Department of Corrections, said four of every five women in prison have drug addiction problems, usually resulting from prior physical or sexual abuse. "If we only deal with the addiction and do not deal with the issues that led to the addiction, they're going to come right back [to prison]," she said.

My Sister's Keeper, an 11-year-old agency on the city's Southeast Side, provides job-skills training and job search assistance to women ex-offenders. But it also provides group therapy and other assistance to help women cope with emotional trauma.

"We realized that the female population was the fastest-growing in the jails," said program coordinator Margaret Eubanks.

"We noticed that the women didn't get as many visitors. Most of the time, their mothers were stuck with their children, and the guys didn't stick by them."

NO WORK

Two weeks after moving into Leslie's Place, Jackson was hired at Diagnostic Health Services, a national company with an office on Chicago's West Side that provides mental health care and counseling for the elderly.

"You've got to find a place that will hire ex-offenders," Jackson said, "because not a lot of places will."

Jackson oversees the company's Token Economy program at its Chicago location. People who participate in the company's counseling programs earn tokens to exchange for goods and services. "We found out that she had good math skills," said Larry L. Harges, regional director of programs for Diagnostic Health Services.

"I'm finding out about a lot of things I can do that I didn't know I could," said Jackson.

There are numerous barriers to employment for ex-offenders, especially women who often must free someone to watch their children.

"Employment before prison is the single most important factor in determining whether the women will find employment after prison," said the University of Chicago's George. "But we found that employment [rates] prior to entering prison are lower for women than for men."