This week, the Justice Secretary Shabana Mahmood said that her ‘ultimate ambition’ was to close women’s prisons, saying they were simply ‘forcing women into a life of crime’.
As a former inmate who spent 14 months behind bars, it’s a welcome change to hear any mention of female prisoners in the political debate, especially given the unique challenges we face.
In my experience, women’s prisons simply don’t function as places of rehabilitation
I spent time in Europe’s largest female prison, HMP Bronzefield in Surrey, where I witnessed daily struggles with overcrowding. Women were constantly moved between cells to accommodate new arrivals, and we often shared tiny spaces designed for one person. Weekends frequently meant being locked in our cells due to staff shortages, which meant there was never a consistent routine, or exercise and time out.
Women make up less than 5 per cent of the prison population, yet we’re more likely to be sentenced to prison for non-violent, less serious crimes. In 2019, TV licence evasion was the most common offence for which women were convicted. Many are mothers with dependent children, affecting an estimated 17,000 children annually.
The conditions in women’s prisons often fail to consider the specific needs of female inmates. I saw pregnant women forced to live alongside drug users or those detoxing. There are only two open women’s prisons in the UK, meaning most women are incarcerated in high-security facilities with limited access to courses, education, and regular exercise.
My experience highlighted the disconnect between the perception and reality of women’s prisons. Despite being a low-risk, first-time offender, I faced months of delays when it came to putting me in the right prison security category. Rules seemed to bend depending on which prison you are in, making it difficult for many women to progress through the system.
It’s important to understand that many women in prison have been victims of much more serious offences than those they’ve committed. Over half of women report having suffered domestic violence or experienced serious abuse as a child. In my experience, many women have either been coerced or encouraged to commit crime by men. Custodial sentences could have been avoided in many cases had they been supported or safeguarded from violent relationships.
The reality of women’s prisons is that they face the same toxic and counter-productive problems as male estates, but without the media scrutiny. I witnessed drugs being brought in through visits, with staff often feeling powerless to intervene. Inappropriate behaviour from both male and female staff towards women was not uncommon, and reporting these incidents rarely led to a satisfactory outcome.
There are lots of mental health problems in women’s prisons, with many women visibly struggling in filthy cells, often with no support other than their fellow prisoners. ‘Decency’ checks and key work sessions organised by the prison estate were generally tick-box exercises, failing to address the real needs of inmates.
Even the statistics paint a grim picture: women are three times less likely to be employed on release and have a higher average number of reoffences per reoffender than men. Women are also much more likely to self-harm than their male counterparts. Less than half of women left prison with settled accommodation in the year to March 2023.
In the open prison where I spent time, access to support and advice services was severely limited. Women eligible for Home Detention Curfew were often unsure where they would stay after they were released, with many facing the real prospect of becoming homeless. The was often little information about organisations that could provide grants for basic needs like clothing and bedding.
Rehabilitation efforts often felt superficial. The courses offered to women in prison seemed more like mandatory hoops to jump through rather than genuine attempts at preparing us for life outside. While the basic educational qualifications on offer had some benefit, in general there was little to address underlying issues like addiction or mental health.
The disparity between men’s and women’s open prisons was also evident. From conversations with male ex-prisoners, it became clear that the rules and restrictions in women’s open prisons are far more stringent, despite us typically being lower-risk offenders.
In my experience, women’s prisons simply don’t function as places of rehabilitation. The current system is not only ineffective but also damaging to communities and families who rely on each other for support. It’s right that Shabana Mahmood is seriously considering alternative methods of punishment that are more cost-effective and less destructive.
We need to completely reevaluate our approach to female incarceration, focusing on community-based alternatives for non-violent offenders and providing genuine support and rehabilitation for those who need it most.
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