Turn education key to release women prisoners’ potential

With access to college in prison, I was enamored by what my mind could do. It allowed me to look forward, open my mind, and change my perspective on what my life could look like on the outside.

During my prison sentence in the early 1990s, access to education was the single most powerful force that gave me hope. It made everything brighter. Everyone enrolled learned , helped others learn, and, because of that spark, developed a deeper understanding and love for ourselves and the women around us.

Anisah Sabur is a formerly incarcerated advocate, activist and organizer. She is a member of the #TURNONTHETAPNY campaign.

I tried hard to stay at the facility where college had unlocked so many doors, but ultimately, I was transferred to another prison. This new facility was void of that opportunity, offering vocational training and mindless jobs. Life without college in prison was devastating. There was nothing to do. The thoughts raced in my head, “What am I going to do? What’s going to happen with my life?”

With the power of education denied to me, I joined the landscaping crew. It was the only way to transport myself again out of the prison walls. It was a dead end. We repainted walls, planted and generally kept up the facility. Everything served to benefit the prison. Nothing was left for me. Sure, I earned certificates stamped by the Department of Corrections, credentials with no value on the outside.

I learned that men’s facilities had hundreds of options for vocational programs while we were left with three or four, at most, none of which would help us gain employment upon release. That’s when I realized the inequities of being a woman in prison; the whole system was built by and for men.

When I was released in 1991, I applied to college to finish the

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degree I had started while incarcerated but, I was forced to check “Yes” where the application asked if I had a felony conviction. That was the end of the line. There were no follow-up questions, no interviews; I was rejected based on a crime for which I had served my time.

Education would have enabled me to land on my feet but instead, I landed in prison again in 2000. By then, access to Pell Grants and the Tuition Assistance Program (TAP) had been banned for incarcerated people as part of the “tough on crime” politics in 1994 and in 1995. The bans decimated access to college-inprison programs.

After I was released this time, I made a commitment to myself to find a way to go to college. Eventually, I found an associate’s degree program and finally had the chance to continue my degree. The joy I felt when I accepted my degree was indescribable. I knew who I was, I knew the struggles it took me to get there, and I knew I would be able to support myself and my loved ones.

Repealing the ban on TAP would create sustained funding that would allow more college-in-prison programming to flourish. Now, it is a matter of chance, and a smaller chance for women, as to whether a person will land in a facility with education. Other states have repealed their bans. New York is behind.

Now that New York has its first female governor, there is hope for a bill that has been introduced every year since 1999 to rectify this wrong. Gov. Kathy Hochul can finally confront the inequities faced by women incarcerated in New York. Restoring TAP to people in prison is a matter of women’s equity, and a moral imperative.

As a formerly incarcerated woman, a mother and a grandmother, I know firsthand that if incarcerated women had access to TAP, success would follow. They would have a better chance of finding employment upon release and spread access to opportunities to their families and their entire communities. It’s common sense. If you give people education, they will come out better able to support themselves and their loved ones.

Governor Hochul, education is the key. If you turn the key, you will release the extraordinary potential of every woman in New York prisons.