transforming-the-culture-at-chowchilla-womens-prison-an-examination-of-californias-efforts

Transforming the Culture at Chowchilla Women’s Prison: An Examination of California’s Efforts

Gazing across the crowd of women, fresh from county jail in their orange prison jumpsuits, Lena Coleman wishes she could save them all. And it’s her job to try. In July, after 20 years in prison for attempted murder and a gun enhancement, Coleman, 47, became one of three dozen prisoners at the Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla to graduate from a peer support specialist program. California’s efforts to improve conditions at the women’s prison in Chowchilla are complicated by the deep level of trauma many female prisoners have experienced. The program is a part of the California Model, an ambitious effort Gov. Gavin Newsom launched in March 2023 to overhaul a prison system built on fear and retribution and replace it with opportunities for more normalized social interaction. The changes are modeled after prison operations in Norway and other Scandinavian countries, where incarceration is considered a tool for rehabilitation rather than harsh punishment.

Peer Support Specialists: The Heart of the Transformation

At Chowchilla, a sprawling campus set in the farm fields of Madera County, the peer support specialists have become the backbone of that transformation. Every day, they fan out across the prison, serving as something between a therapist and life coach to the roughly 2,100 women incarcerated at the facility, one of two women’s prisons in California. Coleman works in Building 501, a reception yard that houses new prisoners before they transfer “over the wall” into the general population. Her job is often limited in scope: helping a new arrival find prison garb that fits, or working with the healthcare services team to remind patients to take their medicine or attend an upcoming medical appointment. Other times, the work requires more intense intervention. Staff might call a peer support specialist to help de-escalate violence or ease a behavioral crisis. As mandated reporters, they can be the difference between someone dying of suicide or accepting mental health services. Mostly, Coleman is there for whenever someone needs to talk — or cry — with a trusted confidant. “I tell them that prison is going to be what you make it,” she said. And then she offers them a piece of advice: “I’m just like you. I’ve been there, done that. Only difference is I have changed my ways.”

The California Model in Action

Newsom chose San Quentin in Marin County, the state’s oldest prison, to jump-start the California Model last year. At San Quentin, prison officials are focused on improving relations between officers and prisoners, two historically warring factions in a violent system unaccustomed to change. The California Model looks a bit different at Chowchilla — and it must. A majority of incarcerated women in the U.S. endured some combination of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse before committing the crime that sent them to prison, researchers have found. Often, that abuse was inflicted by a husband or boyfriend. Most are single moms of young children who have lost custody because of their crimes. At the same time, women’s prisons often lack the mental health services and rehabilitative programming to help address deep trauma, said Alycia Welch, associate director of the Prison and Jail Innovation Lab at the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas at Austin.

The Impact of Peer Support Specialists

Over the last two years, more than 100 formerly incarcerated women have brought lawsuits against the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation and current and former correctional officers, alleging graphic incidents of sexual abuse by prison staff dating back a decade. Corrections officials have said they welcome the investigation. They said that recent reforms have made it easier for women to report misconduct and that staff are now required to wear body cameras at the two women’s prisons. Expanded training to help staff work with prisoners who have dealt with significant trauma is a key pillar of the California Model. While Coleman appreciates the efforts by Newsom and others in Sacramento to overhaul the state’s dark prison culture, she thinks it’s important for prisoners themselves to help steer the changes. And she views her mission as a peer support specialist as central to that transformation: working to instill a sense of community inside prison walls that was often missing for these women on the outside.

The Human Side of Transformation

On a Friday at the end of October, Coleman was working her way through a stack of paper with the names of dozens of women she was supposed to counsel that week. She called one woman over for a check-in. Brandi Collins was back in prison. For more than half her life, Collins, 43, has struggled with addiction to crystal meth and crack cocaine. Prison records show she has been incarcerated nearly a dozen times. “I have a criminal thinking,” Collins said. “This is my home.” But this time, she has Coleman, someone she can trust and confide in. “I felt bad about my dang self. So maybe the first week I was here, I said, ‘Can I talk to you?’” Collins said. “Do we judge you for returning?” Coleman asked. “No, she didn’t judge. I know they’ve seen me on this yard a thousand times,” Collins responded. “I want to forgive myself, and I want to change, and I don’t know what it takes,” she said. Then, turning to Coleman, she said, “I look at you and you give me hope.”

In conclusion, the efforts to transform the culture at Chowchilla Women’s Prison in California are not just about policy changes but about human connections and the impact of peer support specialists like Lena Coleman. These women are working every day to provide support, guidance, and hope to their fellow incarcerated women, creating a sense of community and belonging that is crucial for healing and rehabilitation. As the California Model continues to evolve, it is clear that the voices and experiences of those directly impacted by the prison system, like Coleman and Collins, are essential in driving meaningful change and creating a more compassionate and effective approach to incarceration and rehabilitation.