Imprisonment creates burdens for families

Post #261

500 words; 3 minutes to read

Audio summary by student volunteer Kimberly Duong.

Summary:  Interviews with 29 family members of incarcerated people shows the heavy burdens families face, often due to services not provided by the prisons.

by Jourdan Gohn, law student, Bora Laskin Faculty of Law, Lakehead University.

Virtually everyone in jail in Canada has a partner, parent, or friend on the outside. Having someone incarcerated places major burdens on these supporters, affecting their finances, mental health, and personal relationships. Yet, the vital work these caregivers do is rarely acknowledged in discussions about criminal justice. A recent paper from researchers at McMaster University and The University of Alberta addresses this gap. Through a series of interviews with 29 individuals supporting men in prison, conducted during the COVID-19 pandemic, the authors speak to the burden faced by families.

“Feeling obliged to address needs they believed were better provided by the system itself, participants were resolved to offer the best care possible for their incarcerated kin. Still, they were often exhausted by and disillusioned with the process and consequently became disinclined to collaborate with a system they perceived as callous, ineffectual, and disinterested. In these interactions, we emphasize how systems of punishment permeate beyond prison walls and into the lives of caregivers.”

The paper uses the concept of “burden of care” to capture both the tasks and the emotional strains caregivers face. In the context of incarceration, these burdens stem from a prison system that fails to provide adequate programming or resources. Caregivers essentially become counselors, case managers, and advocates, devoting significant time and energy to meeting needs the institution should address.

Burdens

As a result, caregivers endure what the authors describe as “objective” burdens (the real, tangible tasks like arranging housing, filing legal paperwork, or seeking mental health treatment) and “subjective” burdens (the stress, frustration, and sense of hopelessness that can arise when they feel unsupported and undervalued). This unpaid labor can leave them feeling burned out and disillusioned, and it deepens their distrust of a prison bureaucracy they see as indifferent.

While the study addresses these themes, it also presents firsthand stories from individuals such as “Elle,” “Aria,” and “Mina,” whose experiences illustrate how far these caregiving roles can stretch.

Elle’s Story

“Elle,” one of the respondents, described how her husband’s incarceration placed a heavy burden on her. He struggled with PTSD and addiction, but she believed that prison programs either didn’t exist or were inadequate for individuals with complex mental health needs. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, Elle visited her husband up to five times a week—often amounting to 20 hours—to keep him connected to the outside world and to “teach him right from wrong.” At the same time, she was raising children, coping with her own financial uncertainty after being laid off, and attempting to manage her mental health.

Despite facing her own stresses, Elle worked hard not to reveal her worries during phone calls or visits. She believed that maintaining an outwardly positive demeanor would help her husband hold on to hope. This left her feeling isolated because she had few outlets for expressing her own fears and frustrations. On top of these emotional challenges, she also dedicated significant time to searching for resources—anything from basic mental health support to external therapy providers—since she saw no signs that the prison was addressing those needs. Elle was especially concerned that if her husband didn’t receive the right help inside, he would struggle even more after his release.

Other Respondents

Aria, a psychologist by training, fought for seven or eight years to secure a formal bipolar diagnosis for her husband. She encountered so much red tape that she considered spending thousands of dollars on an outside evaluation—something many other caregivers simply couldn’t afford. Meanwhile, Mina, an Indigenous mother of five, took on her husband’s Supreme Court case. She described having to learn the intricacies of the justice system to file legal motions on his behalf. This work eventually evolved into broader advocacy against systemic racism in prisons.

Shared Challenges

Although each caregiver’s story differs, there is a consistent pattern: when prison systems fall short, loved ones step into the gap. Caregivers often resent having to assume unofficial roles as counselors, caseworkers, and legal aides. They also worry about being labeled “that wife” or “that mother” who stirs up trouble if they push too hard for better services.

Still, individuals like Elle and Mina keep going because they fear that without their efforts, their loved ones would have no support at all. They act out of love, but the cost is steep. They are part of what the authors term “secondary prisonization,” in which the ripple effects of incarceration extend well beyond prison walls and into caregivers’ daily lives. Their experiences underscore the need for prison reform that includes acknowledging caregivers’ burdens; whether through better in-house services, clearer paths to resources, or genuine collaboration between prison staff, families, and community agencies.

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