For over two decades, Why Not Prosper has been showing up in support of formerly incarcerated women in Philadelphia. Why Not Prosper is uniquely and intimately aware of the challenges facing these women. How? Because Why Not Prosper was founded and continues to be run by women who have, themselves, been incarcerated.
When a group of Presbyterian women came to the state prison where Shanon Anderson was incarcerated, she quickly learned the program they offer provides more than reading and writing. It’s all about love.
When a group of Presbyterian women came to the state prison where Shanon Anderson was incarcerated, she quickly learned the program they offer provides more than reading and writing. It’s all about love.
Like most recently released ex-offenders, Craig Rockenbach faced the challenge of reentering the workforce carrying the stigma of a criminal conviction.
At age 16, Kalief Browder found himself on New York’s Rikers Island, awaiting trial for a crime he said he didn’t commit. Returning from a party in the Bronx, Browder was accused of stealing a backpack holding a credit card, an iPod Touch, a camera and $700. At his arraignment, he was charged with second-degree robbery. Bail was set at$3,000. Browder didn’t have the ability to “bond out” — pay the fee. He would spend the next three years in jail before being released, with his charges dropped.
At age 16, Kalief Browder found himself on New York’s Rikers Island, awaiting trial for a crime he says he didn’t commit. Returning from a party in the Bronx, Browder was accused of stealing a backpack holding a credit card, an iPod Touch, a camera and $700. At his arraignment, he was charged with second-degree robbery. Bail was set at $3,000. Browder didn’t have the ability to “bond out” — pay the fee. He would spend the next three years in jail before being released, with his charges dropped.
High incarceration rates, widespread unemployment and low educational attainment among African-American young men have led some observers to call them a “lost generation.” However, the Rev. Mary Susan Pisano rejects this description.
By the eighth grade, Kimo had stopped showing up for school. He preferred the beaches of western Oahu or the island bus system that took him away from the frustrations of the classroom. It wasn’t long before alcohol and drugs replaced surfing and bus riding as distractions, followed by a career of petty theft and assault. When he was 20, Kimo was shipped off to a private prison in the Arizona desert, contracted by the state of Hawaii to house its prisoners.
