Former offenders find return to
BY CLARE MARIE CELANO Staff Writer
BY CLARE MARIE CELANO
Staff Writer
CHRIS KELLY staff Stacey Kindt, the founder of Redeem-Her, knows that women who have been released from prison need a helping hand to become productive in society. The Your Closet branch of the program collects clothes and cosmetics that are donated to women as they try to re-establish their lives. Stacey Kindt, Tonja Chamberlain and Edwina Rudolf got exactly what they wanted — freedom from the bars that bound their existence for years — but at what price?
Freedom, like many other words in the English language, may well be relevant — subject to any number of variables depending on where you are on your path in life. So it is with these women and many others like them.
CHRIS KELLY staff Ann Tompkins places a box of donated clothing in a minivan, ready to be distributed as part of the Your Closet program run by Redeem-Her. The group offers assistance to women who have served time in prison and are readjusting to life on the outside. Stacey, Tonja and Edwina are ex-offenders.
The three women have spent more years than they want to remember at the Edna Mahan Correctional Facility for Women in Clinton, Hunterdon County.
CHRIS KELLY staff Members of Redeem-Her, (l-r) Tonja Chamberlain, Stacey Kindt and Edwina Rudolf, review requests for assistance that former offenders have made of the organization. To say that those years changed their lives is an understatement.
To say that those years ruined their lives may go a bit too far.
But to say that those years have made their lives a mass of confusion, frustration, fear and uncertainty and have placed them in a category different from everyone else would probably be accurate.
Stacey Kindt, 31, of Lakewood, saw this difference and began, while she was incarcerated, to try to “fix” what she called a “broken American justice system.”
Her decision to make a difference resulted in the creation of Redeem-Her, an organization she founded that seeks to lend not only a helping hand, but also an understanding heart to those “sisters” preparing to re-enter society as free women.
Just because the women are no longer housed in a prison under lock and key does not mean that sometimes the days they spent there don’t come back to haunt them.
Kindt vowed to make a difference in the lives of those who had paid their debt to society and were ready to try their hand at life again out in the real world, but according to the founder, sometimes it takes a whole lot more than just trying. It takes courage, it take guts, it takes the stamina to be hit by rejection over and over again until you are almost ready to give up.
What it also takes, according to Kindt, is the understanding and compassion of other women who know exactly how you feel.
This is where Redeem-Her comes into play.
In an interview with Kindt and two of her friends who are also ex-offenders, the three women shared some of the emotional, financial and traumatic experiences they endured not just inside the walls of prison, but outside as well.
The conversation revealed a kinship not unlike that of other fraternal organizations, yet many of the women in the Redeem-Her program (about 20 so far), have never even met one another. For instance, Rudolf, 43, of Belmar, and Chamberlain, 38, of the New Egypt section of Plumsted, met for the first time on the day they were interviewed in the Freehold offices of Greater Media Newspapers, yet both women exhibited a deep connection with one another that, according to Kindt, is not uncommon.
While the outside world may at first appear harsh and unyielding, the connection between the women offers hope and healing therapy, according to Kindt.
“If you have not gone through the trauma of a courtroom hearing and incarceration, even though you may try, you really cannot possibly understand what we feel, yet she,” Kindt said, pointing to her friend, Chamberlain. “She knows all about it. She knows what I’m feeling inside without me ever having to say a word — because she’s been there.”
Redeem-Her seeks to bring women who have “been there” together to help each other.
According to Kindt, there are many women who come out of prison only to re-enter society with no visible means of support.
“Many families don’t want to have anything to do with them anymore,” she said, adding that many of the ex-offenders committed crimes that were related to drug or alcohol use.
After a while, Kindt said, families are afraid to place their trust in the relative who so often disappointed them. This fact alone hampers the ability of the ex-offender to make it in the old world they were once a part of.
Returning to the world they once knew as normal, according to Chamberlain and Kindt, was initially strange and a bit frightening for them.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but even making simple choices for things like shampoo could shake me up. It was overwhelming going into a store and seeing so many choices. When you’ve been incarcerated for years, you lose those skills,” Chamberlain said.
Forgetting how to do the typical activities that make up a day sometimes eludes the former offender.
Getting breakfast for children, doing the laundry, remembering how to prepare a meal, cleaning up the house, even making simple appointments can be daunting. For years, these women have not had to plan their own schedules, therefore, getting back to one and getting back on track as a wife, a mother, a free woman takes a great deal of time and patience.
“We’re shell-shocked, we feel like aliens on our own planet,” said Chamberlain, who has just recently re-entered society.
“We can’t contribute to our families when we are in jail and when we first get out, we feel like we still can’t contribute to them,” Kindt said.
But when the women accomplish these things, when they have mastered things like “multitasking” that moms do on an everyday basis, the praise from their friends is what keeps them going.
Chamberlain reminded Kindt of a recent day when Kindt had done numerous duties involving her children, her home and the organization.
“You did it,” Chamberlain told Kindt, whose eyes welled up with tears at the kind gesture of support and praise from her friend.
“That’s what I meant,” Kindt said in a small strained voice. “Tonja knows how difficult it is to do these things the right way. She’s going to do things that don’t make sense either. But we are very forgiving of each other and we don’t judge one another.”
A person even loses her ability to converse normally when she is incarcerated, according to the women. Women are only allowed to talk in certain instances when in prison.
“You can’t have regular conversations during meals or anything. You’re mostly not allowed to talk unless you’re outside exercising,” Chamberlain said. “You’re not allowed to do much of anything in prison except work and eat. Picture being locked inside your bathroom for 24 hours, then picture having to stay there for two, three or five years.”
Combine this with the fact that many former prisoners have a difficult time even relearning how to establish eye contact and that makes it even tougher to go on job interviews — something they need to do and do quickly. Add to that the fact that the women pretty much freeze when they have to fill out the “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” box that stares back at them on every employment application.
Rudolf knows this firsthand. She could have papered the walls with the rejection slips she received over the last five years until she met Kindt, who set her up with an interview for a job with a future. In fact, she came to the interview at the newspaper offices a bit late, but dressed for success. She came right from her interview for the job she said she thinks she is going to get.
Until then, fast-food, entry-level jobs was how she made her living — the same with Chamberlain, who had worked at a fast-food restaurant since her release. Since she met Kindt and joined the Redeem-Her program, life is different for Chamberlain. She now has a job that pays her well and gives her benefits. This has given her more than just an income — it has allowed her to feel like a worthwhile person again, something a woman loses when she is in prison.
“People keep telling you you’re worthless, you begin to believe it,” Kindt said.
Dressed in a gold and black silky print outfit, Rudolf had a calm about her — one which took a while to achieve, according to Kindt. She was incarcerated for five years for criminal possession of a controlled dangerous substance and child endangerment. Rudolf considers herself blessed to have her two children living at home with her now.
Kindt herself does not fit any cookie-cutter mold of a criminal, even though the law said she was. Before she assisted in kidnapping her husband’s two children from their mother and taking them across a state line, she worked in a position she loved — teaching elementary school. She knows she will never again be able to work as a teacher, a fact which greatly saddens her.
“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” she said.
Kindt and her husband, John, now have two young children together. The Kindts are not allowed to see his other children.
With her long blondish-brown hair pulled to the side with a barrette, her long silky print skirt and her lavender blouse, Kindt looked and acted like one would expect a teacher of young children to act — educated, kind, well-spoken, attractively dressed. But the two years she spent in prison do not go unnoticed when one searches the eyes that have seen the inside of a prison facility they never expected to see.
“It’s much easier than people think to get sent to jail,” Kindt said. “Most people just don’t know enough about our laws until they are used against them.”
Chamberlain did not look like a child abuser, but the law said she was. The young woman fidgeted in her chair, initially appearing distracted and anxious. This was normal behavior, according to Kindt, because Chamberlain has not been out of prison very long.
In jeans and T-shirt and with her long reddish-blond hair falling below her shoulders, she looked like any soccer mom, which in fact Chamberlain said she once was. Soccer coach, Girl Scout leader, chauffeur to karate classes, among other things, were all on Chamberlain’s “to do” list on a regular basis.
Those are the things she remembers.
Speaking to people about her experience in prison or her re-entry into the “old” world is a new experience for Chamberlain, but Redeem-Her is helping to ease the pain of the ordeal she has gone through and the experiences she has yet to face.
Her story could be any woman’s story under certain circ*mstances.
Chamberlain spent six years in prison for an act she committed against a child in a domestic situation that she said was not her fault.
Chamberlain is not allowed to have any contact with her three children, at least while she is on parole. This is one more thing she has to deal with and one that disturbs her deeply—her maternal rights have been taken away from her.
Basically, these women could be people one meets in the supermarket. They are women who care deeply about their families and about their children’s futures.
Kindt said that upon entering her term in prison she found that most of the women “were just like regular people.”
The women in prison have been incarcerated for a variety of crimes. But no matter what crime put them there, one thing is certain — every woman who exits the prison will experience some exhilaration at finally being on the other side of the gate — she will also experience the cold, hard fear that comes along with not knowing what comes next.
Because along with freedom comes the responsibility of taking care of things like making a living, paying bills, making phone calls, securing licenses — everyday things most people do without even thinking about them, in addition to showing up for parole meetings at a designated time every week, whether or not transportation is available. The list of things to do frightened Chamberlain so much she was almost willing to go back to prison.
But Redeem-Her has helped Chamberlain to see the light at the end of the tunnel — something she could not see before she came to the organization.
In fact, when Chamberlain first got out of prison she did not want anything to do with any of the inmates she knew in jail.
“Some women don’t want to remember and being with inmates makes you remember,” Kindt said. “This is a problem though, because in order for us to succeed and heal, we really need to be able to talk with those who do remember and who understand because they’ve been there.”
The irony in the situation is that prison officials do not want ex-offenders to associate with one another, according to the women.
“They tell us at prison not to associate with a criminal element, but when you are the criminal element, who else is there?” Kindt asked.
Redeem-Her is all about attempting to fix the broken wings on the criminal justice system, according to its founder. One of the broken parts that needs a major overhaul, according to Kindt, is re-entry into the world outside of prison because 98 percent of the women currently incarcerated will eventually go home.
And, herein lies the problem. Go home to what? A family that may or may not support them? A community that may or may not accept them within its borders? Many of these “may or may nots” can actually contribute to the ex-offender getting locked up again.
With a rate of recidivism at 67 percent, Redeem-Her is working hard to change that figure by supporting women and helping them every step of the way to get back on their feet and stay there.
Pooling their resources is one of the ways they support each other. For instance, one woman in the group is trying to regain custody of her children. In order to that she must provide a safe and proper place to bring them home to. The mobile home she lives in has plumbing problems, but Chamberlain has the skills that can help the woman prepare her home for officials to see.
Many of the women have no means of transportation except a public bus, but Kindt, who admittedly is not very “road savvy,” will take care of bringing the women to places they need to be. It’s something she can do to help. Rudolf is technologically savvy and is working to help other women gain important computer, résumé and Internet skills that will help them in their search for jobs in today’s world.
Other programs include a clothing service that provides women who are about to re-enter society with needed items to make them once again feel like women as well as cosmetics to brighten up their faces and hopefully their moods. The clothing program called Your Closet is operated by ex-offenders who have joined Redeem-Her.
“This is how we make it work, by supporting one another. We’ll do things for each other that no one else will do and [we’ll do it] without question,” Kindt said.
Kindt’s efforts have not gone unnoticed by others. She was recently presented with a $2,500 award from the Russ Berrie Foundation. Receiving the award touched Kindt because she said that other people recognized and acknowledged the efforts of the organization.
“We can do well,” she said. “We deserve a chance. And we need for those women who are still at Clinton to see that there are women outside waiting for them.”
Kindt had a choice the day she was released from prison — to leave it all behind and retreat to the confines of her home in the suburbs or to try to fix the system she said is broken. She chose the latter and the result of that choice is the creation of an organization that helps women who are ex-offenders — “one woman at a time.”
