Literature Review With Findings

When you find a job, you get a boss that treat you like shit because you’ve been locked up, and they talk to you fucked up. Like you’re supposed to take it. When I found another job, they found out I was locked up and I just did 21 and a half years. The first thing the man said out his mouth was, “motherfucker when I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Black males often face some of the worst job prospects and disrespect on the job; this may correlate with the status of being an ex-offender and being a Black male. This produces an intersection of oppression. Randy recalls,

Like I told you they [DCPP] trying to come at me now because of my jacket, they tried to use my jacket against me telling her [his children’s mom] that they don’t want us living in the same house. I got to hide in the closet. I’ve got to take my clothes and put them where they can’t see it and all that. Man, they gonna question the kids . . . My oldest daughter nine years old. They gone question a nine and a seven year old. And they tried to question my three-year-old son.

The stigma associated with criminal background is a barrier to locating housing, consistent with extant research ( Travis, 2005 ). Several states have enforced laws that prevent formerly incarcerated persons, who are overwhelmingly disadvantaged, from receiving supplemental housing assistance. Andre spoke about his housing challenges with the mark of a criminal record: “I was trying to get my own place, but being that I have a conviction I can’t get a TRA, 3 Section 8, 4 or whatever.” Housing restrictions often prevent formerly incarcerated persons from being added to their partner’s lease, often forcing them to hide their presence from landlords or child services. For example, some women present during interviews mentioned how the New Jersey Division of Child Protection and Permanency (DCPP) was active in their family-life—DCPP mandated that they not have anyone with criminal records living in their homes for the sake of their children. Randy lives with the mother of his children, and he lives in a constant state of “paranoia” because he feels that DCPP will take his children if they find out.

I tried it, I gave it up. But when I can’t find a job because my jacket. I got caught lying on an application before that’s why I don’t lie on applications no more. But then they hold that against you still even though you have been truthful.

Few qualitative studies have explored former prisoners’ perceptions of criminal record-based stigma, with findings reporting that prisoners perceive significant stigma especially regarding employment, child care, and negative attitudes and discrimination from society ( Moore, Stuewig, & Tangney, 2013 ). Moore et al. (2013) indicated that those who anticipated stigma had higher levels of depression and anxiety. Even those who secured housing and employment struggled with the stress and stigma of their “diminished status” within society ( Schnittker & John, 2007 ). Another study showed that reentering individuals who perceived incarcerated discrimination were more likely to have chronic health conditions ( Turney, Lee, & Comfort, 2013 ). This study also noted a statistically significant association between criminal record discrimination and psychological stress, even when controlling for stress associated with racial discrimination ( Turney et al., 2013 ). As Pager (2003) noted, the mark of a criminal record has followed many offenders, post incarceration. The stigma associated with their criminal past and incarceration has impacted relationships with family, community, criminal justice agents, and the ability to find meaningful employment. A common theme found during the current study was the feeling that one’s “jacket” or criminal record has prevented many narrators from experiencing successful reintegration to society. Randy testifies,

Moore and Tangney (2017) examined anticipated stigma and criminal behavior for male prisoners during 3-month pre-release and 1-year post-release periods. Results showed more anticipated stigma during incarceration as an indication of a more likely withdrawal from social interactions on release for White males. Race moderated several post-incarceration stigma effects, likely because of the stigma and stereotyping Black males face societally without incarceration effects.

There is prejudice attached to prisoner reentry that creates a sense of “othering.” That is, “others” is tagged as socially unacceptable and/or illegitimate within society ( Schneider & Ingram, 1993 ). Often, individuals and groups are “othered” based on multiple intersections of their identity (e.g., race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation). This leads to both symbolic distinctions between groups and the social exclusion of certain individuals and groups ( Edgell, Gerteis, & Hartmann, 2006 ). Racial bias continues to be reinforced by social media in the depiction of criminals (e.g., Brock Turner vs. Trayvon Martin ), framing social narratives around who is a criminal and deserving of compassion while fueling racial conflict ( Christie, 1986 ; Goff, Jackson, DiLeone, Culotta, & DiTomasso, 2014 ). Thus, Black formerly incarcerated males are viewed as even more socially unacceptable based on their multiple intersections (e.g., race, gender, and criminal record).

Masculinity

Compared with the broader U.S. society, male inmates have the lowest status of masculinity (Karp, 2010). Male inmates cannot express standard cultural markers of masculinity during incarceration, as they are often without work and are unable to express sexuality. “Without the resources normally available for the enactment of manhood, men in prison are forced to reconstitute their identity and status using the limited available resources” (Phillips, 2001, p. 13). Also, race is strongly connected with social segregation in U.S. culture (Massey & Denton, 1993), and racial tension persists in prison settings where Black males are disproportionately represented (Karp, 2010). From the vantage point of hegemonic masculinity, certain males are considered “lesser than” (e.g., gay men, men of color; Connell, 1995). Therefore, expressions of hyper-masculinity may be used “as a defensive strategy to counter their feelings of marginality” (Gibbs & Merighi, 1994, p. 80).

Evans and Wallace (2008) reported that inmates characterized by masculine norms (e.g., violent, dominant, and powerful) are often seen as the aggressor within the prison setting, as opposed to victims. Reports found that male prisoners may find it advantageous to exemplify or amplify certain masculine traits during incarceration to secure safety and prevent becoming a victim (Evans & Wallace, 2008) and as a means of survival. McKelly and Rochlen (2010) noted that because of hyper-masculinity, incarcerated males may view seeking help (e.g., emotional and physical) as stigmatizing.

Gordon et al. (2013) studied 139 African American men in a prerelease program to examine the relationship between masculine norms, peer support, and individual length of incarceration. They found that when participants engaged in less masculine norms and more peer support, there was a decrease in individual incarceration length (Gordon et al., 2013). Similarly, Iwamoto et al. (2012) reviewed the role of masculine norms and informal support on depression and anxiety of 123 incarcerated men. Findings suggest men who report using more masculine traits (e.g., asserting power and strength) and lower emotional control encountered more depressive symptoms (Iwamoto et al., 2012). Unfortunately, even with the rise of men’s studies and masculinity research, nearly no attention is being given to interventions that could aid inmates in redefining masculinity to help them succeed during reentry (Karp, 2010).

Many of the narrators in this study experienced a desire to be more involved in their children’s lives. They saw being a part of their children’s lives as central to maintaining their hetero-normative views of masculinity and mental health. Many saw their fatherhood as an inspiration to find legitimate employment, and this often resulted in desistance from crime. For example, Jermaine speaks about how participation in his children’s lives helped motivate him (a recovering addict and gang member) to change his life:

And that’s what keeps me strong. To be involved for my kids. I just learned how to be a father for my kids. When I turned 36, that’s when I really started feeling that I was a father and needed out here. I get so much love, so now I really know what I’m here for because they don’t got to tell me. I could feel it. And that just make me go harder.

Having their children in their lives gives many of these men a second chance at life. This reoccurring theme demythologizes the narrative that Black men do not want to be active in their children’s lives. They see fatherhood as a way to make amends for some of their past mistakes. Being a father to their children is directly connected with their ability to achieve masculinity. According to Roy and Dyson (2010), low-income Black men often create their own alternative masculinities to fulfill normative expectations of masculinity while living in structurally disadvantaged communities. It was within structural inequality and a career of crime and a lifetime of substance abuse that Jermaine became a man and a father. Thus, the construction of masculinity for men like Jermaine and others, in particular, is uniquely divergent.

A common theme that emerged among the narrators was the notion that they believed they were not men but rather lost boys who committed crimes that resulted in their incarceration and separation from their children. Thus, many of them believed being active fathers gave them a chance to fulfill hetero-normative masculinity and motivation to live a life without criminal justice system involvement, substance abuse, and unemployment. Anthony expresses his fatherly yearnings,

That’s why I’m taking that chance to take that positive route. Because I do want to become somebody. I do want my daughter to have a better life than me. I do want my daughter to have a father around.

Anthony believed his incarceration was mostly related to his past immaturity and his inability to be what he considers a man. Playing a role in his daughter’s life brings him a sense of importance. A common theme among narrators was the notion that they want their children to see them as positive role models who can provide them with financial, emotional, and parental support. Alonzo spoke about some advice he gives his sons, “I always tell my sons that if they are gonna follow my footsteps do what I do now, don’t follow what I did in the past.”

Alonzo is an active member of a local community organization that seeks to rid the community of violence. His connection to community organizing and to his children provides him with hope for the future; albeit, he has experienced many reentry hardships, such as employment issues and settling child support debt. Being unable to fulfill the standard cultural markers of masculinity causes mental strain for many of these men. Societal stereotypes often paint urban Black men with criminal records as men who are over sexualized, irresponsible, and incapable of supporting their families. In contrast, many of the interviewees stated that they want to actively engage in their children’s lives. For example, Ed made recommendations about what reentry programs should focus on when assisting formerly incarcerated males regarding support to gain custody or visitation of their children:

The other thing that gets me about these guys on the street too, and I think they need a program for this. You let these guys know that men that want to be active in the children’s life because mothers try to keep them away from the kids or keep the kid away from the father, well, they have rights. We have rights out here.

Often missing in reentry research is a thorough analysis regarding strains that fathers face on returning home after incarceration. Many states continue to charge fathers for child support during their imprisonment, resulting in insurmountable child support costs upon release. This can limit their ability to gain custody of their children and complicate relationships with their children and their mothers. For example, Alonzo accounted the challenges he faces raising his children post incarceration. He also highlighted challenges paying child support while his son lives with him, “I’m paying her child support, which I never understood because I had him living with me. Feeding him, coating him.”

Andre spoke about not being able to save money to support himself and his family as a result of his inability to find stable employment and the insurmountable costs of child support:

You can’t get money. You can’t afford to have health insurance and your child support is kicking your ass. I got to pay medical, dental, all that shit for my kids. The court don’t care. You know, they don’t care how much you bring home. They’re going to tell you that they aren’t making any changes, and you got to pretty much survive on what you got. I got to survive, I can’t take care of my kids without taking care of me.

Often, justice system–impacted families are affected by the interrupting logistics of courtroom barriers that do irreparable harm to the relationships between Black men and women. Tony further spoke about the difficulties he has faced dealing with his child’s mother regarding child support. Through this quote, we see how system-impacted families are disrupted and ultimately broken by courts:

I can never be together on the same level with her. You know what I’m saying? She beat me down for this child support shit man. But not looking at things I do for my daughter. Like I didn’t even know I was on child support. I was locked up all that time, and I came out owing all this money. It’s hard man.

Many narrators shared similar experiences of desiring to support their children but often finding it difficult to do so, based on their inability to find gainful employment and housing and to pay child support.