HOW WE PREVENT REINCARCERATION

It’s been 22 years since I walked out of prison with a GED diploma, a handful of program certificates I earned “inside” and a mixture of fear and optimism about what was ahead of me. Looking back from the place where I now get to help people who are in the same position I was that day in March 2000, I was right to be afraid.

When I came home and began looking for work, there were so many obstacles: an immediate need for income, laws and policies that hurt justice-impacted job seekers, skeptical employers and hesitant landlords, just to name a few. It’s tough to get a job without a residence, and it’s tough to get a residence without a job.

I’ve been involved in workforce development since 2000, for the last seven of those years as county director at the San Diego site of the Center for Employment Opportunities, a national nonprofit that provides a comprehensive suite of job readiness services to those impacted by a criminal justice history. It fills me with gratitude and pride to help individuals avoid the cycle of joblessness that often leads them back to incarceration. This work is all the more meaningful to me because, like our participants, I know what it’s like to have to fight against obstacles for a fair chance.

I grew up in poverty with a parent struggling with addiction, who was in and out of jail and prison. I went from Child Protective Services to foster care in several states, including California, and ended up incarcerated myself at the age of 12 for the first time. Like so many juveniles who intersect with the criminal legal system, it wouldn’t be my only encounter. I later went both to jail and prison.

I knew it wasn’t a life I wanted and so began involvement in reentry work while I was still in prison as part of a small pre-release program. It was a way for me to start thinking about — and building — my life after my incarceration. Rather than fill me with hope, it caused me to worry. It wasn’t hard to notice the constant flow of people who had been released returning to prison. I was worried. Based on what I saw, for every person we helped find resources on the outside, three or four came right back. I knew which one I wanted to be, but I didn’t know which I would be.

I was fortunate to find an organization called STRIVE that provides coaching, training and placement services to communities dealing with cycles of poverty and joblessness (including the formerly incarcerated). I graduated and began volunteering with the organization every day as a janitor and all-around “gopher.” It soon hired me as a trainer.

My role was funded by a one-year grant, so I wanted to make the most of it. I shadowed every possible position I could. In addition to training, I started doing outreach, intake, job development, retention and reception — and I was still never afraid to pick up a mop.

I took night classes at the end of my 16-hour days. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I wanted to be prepared for the opportunity, if it presented itself. I applied for every role that was a new challenge for growth. I finally landed an administrative role supporting the chief executive officer, the chief financial officer, the chief operating officer and the national affiliate director of STRIVE.

I was able to use that experience as a springboard to join the Center for Employment Opportunities. After more than two decades in this field, starting at the bottom as a volunteer janitor, I am now director of the Center for Employment Opportunities San Diego office, our second-largest location in the country.

I recently celebrated 22 years at home, and I am proud of what I have accomplished. Now other people in community services come to me — me! — for advice and guidance. It wasn’t always easy and the obstacles were steep and many, but knowing I get to help people coming out of prison and jail overcome fear and anxiety and reclaim a full life of selfrespect and dignity is so rewarding. I enjoy teaching and interacting with each and every class at our office, sharing my story of uncertainty and triumph.

I want every person who wants it to have a fair chance at employment — and I’m still not afraid to pick up a mop, if that is what’s needed.