Laura Pavlou is the founder of the organization Women’s Wellness and Integrated Social Health (WWISH), which runs weekly workshops for incarcerated women.
Women’s Wellness and Integrated Social Health (WWISH), an organization I founded, runs workshops for incarcerated women where they learn cognitive and behavioral skills. Courtesy of WWISH

A couple of months ago, I switched on the television and a wall of women’s faces filled the screen. Some of them I knew. A reporter declared that these inmates at the Washington Correction Center for Women had tested positive for illegal drugs "hundreds of times" while still in prison. As the women’s faces floated in the background, the news report suggested these women are unrepentant drug addicts who have no desire to get better. "I don’t think she has any intentions of becoming rehabilitated," said a man named Paul, whose last name was not provided and whose expertise is apparently that he was robbed once.

I don't believe statements like his are helpful. For over six years, I have facilitated a program for women serving time in prison through an organization I founded called Women’s Wellness and Integrated Social Health, WWISH. In my years of working with inmates, I have not heard one woman tell me that she likes being a drug addict or wants to continue criminal behavior.

What I have heard is completely the opposite. Their life stories contain unimaginable details of abuse, incest, violence, poverty, and neglect. KIRO 7 does not mention that such women are almost always raised by people with drug addictions and felonies, people who often teach their children that they are responsible for their own victimization. WWISH’s goal is to help these inmates put their life into true perspective and find the power in themselves to change.

Since 2009, I have witnessed countless women do just that. In two-plus-hour weekly sessions, we teach cognitive skills that initiate changes in thinking, reasoning, and problem solving. The curriculum includes a workbook that prompts inmates to think through various adversities. It encourages them to focus and reflect on relevant themes and habitual behaviors. The ability to reflect and learn from past experiences is not automatic. It takes time and practice to acquire and improve. Over 12 weeks of interactive learning, women are given the opportunity to practice reflective thinking and behavioral activities, thereby opening pathways to healing and empowerment.

Recently, a tall, thin woman—I’ll call her Angie—stood up to share her story. With flaming red hair and a significant baby bump, visible even through the baggy prison khakis, she told us she was in her first weeks of a second stint in prison. Through tears, she said she was grateful to be in prison this time because it was the only way her baby could survive. Raised by a crackhead mother who sold her for sex when she was a small child, she had slept in a doghouse, she said, eating dog food to survive. "I want to be a woman who knows how to parent a child," I remember her saying. "Someone who knows how to live life without drugs."

I have met hundreds of women like Angie who are dead serious about learning new ways of being. In the workshops—which rely on trust—I do not ask women if they have access to illegal drugs, are doing drugs, or are on prescribed medication. Instead, I ask them if they want to get better and can commit to a rigorous 12 weeks of learning new ways of being. That's not something many of these women have ever been offered.

Because evidenced-based programs are needed in prison, and because I believe women in prison have the power to change if they have the education and resources, I hired an external research group to conduct a study to show the effectiveness of the WWISH program. For two years, they collected qualitative and quantitative data studying the social, emotional, and behavioral effects of the program. The analysis revealed that the program instilled a new sense of confidence in problem solving and an awareness of their own ability to find solutions to transition issues such as housing and finances. Bottom line—inmates' perceptions changed from I can’t to I can.

When the KIRO story turned its focus to another inmate I knew well, I was struck by the disparity between what was reported and the woman I worked with over a six month period. The woman I knew held herself accountable for her crime. I was impressed with her vulnerability and her abilities as a leader. She had a following of other inmates who wanted to learn how to be as open and as honest as she. Like others, her childhood was a mix of abuse and incest. Consequently she left home at a young age and turned to prostitution and drugs. "I used crack cocaine, alcohol, and whatever I could get my hands on to kill the pain of my existence," she said. "My mother knew what was happening to me and she did nothing to save me." As the facilitator, I encouraged her to write her mother a letter with questions about her childhood. Later, she said, “My mother wrote back. I still wanted to hate her for not protecting me but now I understand that the abuse also happened to her. I truly have found compassion for her and I forgive her.”

I am not discounting the effect that perpetrators of crimes can have on innocent individuals. But the sad truth is that people who only know trauma usually create more traumas—and if they're not trained to do anything else, the cycle is only going to repeat perpetually. Prison is a punishment, but it can also be a place to start over. With evidenced-based programs, mental health support, and intense drug rehabilitation programs, we can reduce infractions in prison and recidivism once inmates get out of prison. Humans do better when they know better. Instead of KIRO 7 airing a story that suggests inmates don’t want to get better, I suggest they put Amy Clancy on assignment to spend time getting to know women in prison. They are not just a wall of faces.

Laura Pavlou is the founder of WWISH.