Author shares message with women inmates

Susan Burton asked for a show of hands among nine women who sat in a circle on beige plastic chairs, each wearing identical bright orange shirts and baggy pants with ACCF INMATE emblazoned in large, black letters down the left leg.

"How many of you have been in jail before?"

All nine women raised their hands. They were part of an addiction recovery support group that met on Friday, April 6, at the Albany County Correctional Facility.

The jail is ground zero for the heroin epidemic, where 16 percent of female inmates in 2017 disclosed they had a heroin or opioid addiction, double the percentage just three years ago. Statistically, female inmates at the jail are twice as likely to be addicted to heroin or other opioids as male inmates.

One of the women who raised her hand was Kiersten Henderer, 33, of Albany, a mother of three. This was her sixth time at the jail, all on drug-related charges stemming from her heroin addiction. She has a degree in nursing and was an honors student at an all-girls high school.

"Heroin doesn't discriminate," she said.

Burton, 67, of Los Angeles, a former inmate herself and a prison reformer, is the author of "Becoming Ms. Burton: From Prison to Recovery to Leading the Fight for Incarcerated Women." She came to Albany for a conference on female incarceration sponsored by the University at Albany's School of Criminal Justice, with a film screening and discussion cosponsored by the Writers Institute.

Burton arrived Thursday night after a cross-country flight from Los Angeles, but insisted on visiting the Albany County Jail Friday morning to meet with women prisoners, as she has done in numerous cities across the country while promoting her book. She invited me to accompany her on the jail visit.

Despite the grim toll of fatal heroin overdoses and a distressingly high rate of recidivism, Burton delivered an uplifting message during an emotional 90-minute session marked by revelations, tears and hugs.

An inmate in her 40s said she started using heroin because it was cheaper and more readily available than crack cocaine. She said heroin's high lasted longer and numbed her more deeply as she performed sex on a dozen men or more a night as a sex worker. "Dope is better than being in pain," she said. She instructed her 16-year-old daughter on use of an overdose-reversal medical kit. "I hate to admit it, but I taught her how to shove the Narcan up my nose so I wouldn't die from an O.D."

An inmate in her early 20s talked about being admitted to a local private drug treatment program, where she was offered a menu of illicit drugs. "I had my choice of heroin, meth or crack," she said, and soon relapsed by shooting heroin after three days of sobriety. "Drugs were easier to get in the facility than on the streets."

A 50-year-old inmate said she lost count of the number of times she had been incarcerated due to her drug addiction. She is set to be released soon and plans to move into a halfway house this time instead of returning to her old neighborhood and bad habits. "I have to try something different. I don't want to come back here," she said. "My addiction is a lot stronger than I am."

Burton spoke with the flinty voice of experience and resilience, as someone who had walked a path of pain and shame not unlike these women in orange jail garb.

Burton gave each woman a copy of her memoir of redemption, written in collaboration with journalist and author Cari Lynn. The book chronicles in frank terms Burton's drug and alcohol addiction that led to her serving six prison terms over 17 years. She eventually got into treatment, which was not available in prison, her recovery took hold and she created a transitional housing and assistance program, A New Way of Life, based in South Los Angeles. She now operates five residences with a staff of 25 and the program has helped more than 600 formerly incarcerated women build sober and productive lives over the past two decades. She reminded the women that she failed treatment many times, finally got clean and sober at 50, and that if she could do it, they could do it too.

"There are no throwaway people," Burton said. "Your life matters. It's possible to fight for yourself, to love yourself and to find a way out. I believe in you. Never give up."

Due to rising demand, an eight-bed intensive heroin addiction recovery program dormitory for women was established at the jail five months ago, similar to a 30-bed dorm created two years ago for men. The jail offers a variety of 12-step recovery groups and treatment programs for women during incarceration and community support service referrals after release. "Our goal is to break the cycle of recidivism," said Theron Rockwell, the jail's director of services. They've had some success, although one of the 17 women who completed the intensive program died of a heroin overdose shortly after she was released from prison.

"We never give up hope. I've seen a lot of miracles in 18 years here," said Joan Wennstrom, a credentialed alcohol and substance abuse counselor at the jail.

Burton urged the women to tap their inner strength. "You have all been through the fire and you have a resilience that many people don't have," she said. "I'm rooting for you with all my heart."

Burton went around the circle and asked each woman to describe a dream they have for their lives. Several wished to reunite with estranged children, to find a job, to repair their broken families and to stay clean.

Henderer said she spoke by phone with her three children, 13-year-old twins and a 6-year-old, but does not let them visit her in jail. She keeps details vague about her incarceration.

"I tell them Mommy is away getting better," she said. "I'm learning to love myself again and to deal with life on life's terms."

Paul Grondahl is the director of the New York State Writers Institute at the University at Albany and a former Times Union reporter. He can be reached at grondahlpaul@gmail.com