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ONE

The landscape of maternal imprisonment: caregiving and family life

Introduction

This book explores the lives and experiences of family members and friends caring for the children of female prisoners in England and Wales. It provides an opportunity to understand some of the challenges and realities of (re)negotiating family life when a mother is sent to prison from the perspectives of caregiving relatives. Over 2.5 million children are thought to experience parental imprisonment across Europe every year (Noffke, 2017); meanwhile, the most recent estimates for England and Wales suggest that around 17,000 are separated from their imprisoned mothers a year (Howard League for Penal Reform, 2011; Crest Advisory, 2019). These high figures result from most women in prison being mothers, with research suggesting that children remain in the care of relatives – often grandparents and female kin¹ – while their mother is imprisoned (Caddle and Crisp, 1997; PRT [Prison Reform Trust], 2018). Previous studies highlight how the separation that maternal imprisonment brings has multiple adverse consequences for both mothers (Enos, 2001; Baldwin, 2015; Masson, 2019) and children (Sharratt, 2014; Jones et al, 2013; Minson, 2018a). Yet, much less is known about how the experience of a mother’s imprisonment impacts the daily lives and practices of the relatives who assume care for children. There is limited understanding about the ways in which caregiving is assumed and shared within families in the absence of the mother. There is little in-depth exploration of how caregiving kin interpret, manage and respond to these additional childcare responsibilities in their everyday lives; meanwhile, there is little discussion of the limited statutory support made available to these families.

This book answers these questions by situating caregiving kin at the heart of the inquiry through a family-centred analysis of existing knowledge and a privileging their own accounts of their circumstances when presenting the research data (Booth, 2017a). This was achieved through the application of Morgan’s (1996, 2011) theoretical lens of ‘family practices’, which facilitated a critical exploration of what families ‘do’, characterised by a sense of the everyday activities and relationships that have social meaning, and that are grounded in history and biography (for more information, see Chapter Two). Significantly, the application of this sociological theory to a field primarily studied by criminologists produced new insights into family constructions and caregiving practices. In particular, the study provides a greater understanding of the emotional, economic, relational, social and practical pressures that maternal imprisonment brings to the everyday lives of caregivers. Their accounts draw attention to the lack of statutory support available from both formal agencies within the criminal justice system and social welfare agencies. These findings come at a particularly opportune moment, providing much-needed evidence to policymakers and practitioners who have taken more interest in understanding the role and significance of family ties for prisoners in recent years (Farmer, 2017; JCHR [Joint Committee on Human Rights], 2019; MoJ [Ministry of Justice] and HMPPS [HM Prison and Probation Service], 2019a).

The landscape of maternal imprisonment: a family affair

Of course, women in prison have different relationships with their family than men. These range from all the issues surrounding pregnancy and mothers and babies in custody, to the disruption of many women’s role as the primary carer when they are taken into custody, to contact with family once a woman is in prison. These issues are vastly different in type and scale to those experienced by men. (Former Chief Inspector of Prisons Nick Hardwick, 2012: 8)

As Nick Hardwick suggests, there are substantial gendered differences that need to be considered when discussing issues pertaining to prison. Women constitute just 5 per cent of the prison population in England and Wales (House of Commons, 2018), which is consistent with female prisoner populations elsewhere, including Australia (8 per cent) and Sweden (6 per cent) (World Prison Brief, 2019). However, decades of research has shown how women have specific needs and vulnerabilities, having already experienced trauma and abuse, poor educational attainment, and issues with substances and mental health on entry to prison (Carlen, 2002; Carlen and Worrall, 2004; Corston, 2007; Baldwin, 2015; Masson, 2019). Added to this, it is believed that over two thirds of women in prison are mothers with dependent children, and that most were living with their children prior to their incarceration (Caddle and Crisp, 1997). It is expected, then, that the majority of children who have an imprisoned mother might have had daily contact with them prior to prison. It comes with little surprise that the literature is filled with concerned discussions about mother–child separations and the familial circumstances of women in prison (see, for example, Worrall, 1981; Matthews, 1999; Carlen, 2002; Gelsthorpe and Morris, 2002; Chesney-Lind and Pasko, 2003; Corston, 2007; Baldwin, 2015; Masson, 2019). However, it is important to consider how these gendered and familial issues bring about particular challenges for the family members left looking after the mothers’ children. For instance, it may be helpful to refer back to the Preface of this book and consider how Linda assumed immediate care for her three grandsons following her daughter’s unexpected imprisonment.

The number of men and women sent to prison worldwide has dramatically increased over the last few decades (World Prison Brief, 2019). The prison population in England and Wales is twice as large as it was in 1993 (MoJ, 2016, 2018a). On any one day, just under 4,000 women are detained in prisons serving England and Wales; meanwhile, 8,000 women entered prison in 2017 (MoJ, 2018b). This is because most women (83 per cent) are imprisoned for non-violent offences, meaning that 62 per cent serve shorter custodial sentences of six months or less (MoJ, 2018c; Masson, 2019). When applying a family-centred lens to analyse these trends, a critical concern is the significant repercussions that this brings to the whole family because as the female prisoner population grows, so does the number of children separated from their mothers requiring replacement caregivers.

However, being in prison does not remove a mother’s willingness to continue mothering (Corston, 2007; Booth, 2017b) or automatically strip her of her legal parental responsibility in England and Wales. Instead, it is by virtue of the detainment that being imprisoned significantly alters, if not compromises, many of the roles and practices that a mother had previously undertaken. Most notably, this includes the daily care of children.

Caregiving during maternal imprisonment

A large proportion of mothers in prison (around 70 per cent) had been living with their children prior to custody (Caddle and Crisp, 1997). In the event that a sole or primary caregiver is imprisoned, children will require an immediate replacement carer. Usually, family members look after the children in the mother’s absence, often with grandparents and female kin (mostly aunts and sisters) assuming this responsibility. Around 14 per cent of children are taken into social care, with a smaller minority (around 10 per cent) looked after by their fathers (Caddle and Crisp, 1997). As evidenced here, much of what is known about caregiving arrangements is gleaned from a comprehensive (albeit now outdated) survey of the female prisoner population conducted by the Home Office (Caddle and Crisp, 1997). Despite some smaller subsequent studies similarly reporting that grandparents are the main carers (Boswell and Wood, 2011; Raikes, 2016; PRT, 2018), improved and updated data are sorely needed to better grasp these family formations during maternal imprisonment (see the recommendations of the Joint Committee on Human Rights [JCHR, 2019]). Children being cared for by, and within, the family is also seen as preferable to children being taken into social care (Mackintosh et al, 2006). This is similar to informal kinship care arrangements when parents are absent for other reasons, including death and illness (Selwyn et al, 2013). However, another blind spot in statistics occurs because there is no systematic data gathering about prisoners’ children in England and Wales (Williams et al, 2012) – or, indeed, internationally (Flynn, 2011). Instead, there is reliance on these estimated figures and patchwork information about family constructions. Frustratingly, this means that there are few opportunities to pinpoint the exact caregiving arrangements or easily identify the kin caregivers of female prisoners’ children at a national or international level.

What is known about the reallocation of caregiving following maternal imprisonment indicates that only 5 per cent of female prisoners’ children remain in their own homes during their mother’s prison sentence (Caddle and Crisp, 1997; PRT, 2018). An important facet of this process, currently poorly acknowledged or understood, is what these domestic changes mean for caregiving relatives. When a father is imprisoned, up to 90 per cent of children remain in the care of their mothers (Dodd and Hunter, 1992), do not need a new caregiver and do not move home; therefore, family members as caregiving kin are relied upon to a lesser extent (Friestad, 2016). Several studies have provided invaluable insights into the many challenges facing women caring for children during their father’s imprisonment (Shaw, 1992; Losel et al, 2012) but only a few have explored the pressures and experiences of caregivers of female prisoners’ children. However, the experiences and treatment of women in contact with the criminal justice system are distinct from those of men.

Mothers in contact with the criminal justice system

As a ‘response’ to lawbreaking women, prison is often too severe and inappropriate, and there have been repeated calls to reduce the number of custodial sentences given to women (Corston, 2007; Baldwin, 2015; Women in Prison, 2017; Masson, 2019). The long-awaited Female Offender Strategy (MoJ, 2018d) similarly echoed these calls but, sadly, there has been no significant reduction as yet.² This is likely the consequence of practical and financial problems, as well as political delays, which hinder the implementation of the proposed strategy (Booth et al, 2018). Theoretically, this may be explained by the socially constructed and prescriptive conceptions of femininity that posit the disjuncture between womanhood and lawbreaking activities. Carlen (2002) suggested that women are deemed ‘doubly deviant’ as their lawbreaking activities indicate a twofold breach: first, against the law; and, second, against those expectations placed on her as a woman – mother, wife or daughter (see also Baldwin, 2015). Such conceptions have led to differential – and often harsher – treatment of women in the criminal justice system. Evidence shows that women are more likely to be sentenced to imprisonment on their first offence than their male counterparts (MoJ, 2015), which, as was learned for Linda’s daughter (see the Preface), could cause significant disruptions to caring responsibilities.

Courtroom practices are not accountable for ascertaining the primary caregiving status of defendants. This means that women can receive a custodial sentence before their dependent children are identified by criminal justice agencies. Pre-Sentence Reports (PSRs) are recurrently identified as a method to address this problem (PRT, 2015; MoJ, 2018d) as they inform sentencers about the defendant’s personal circumstances, including children. However, a continued failure to use PSRs in practice not only removes opportunities for statutory agencies to consider the needs and welfare of children in sentencing decisions (Epstein, 2012; PRT, 2015; JCHR, 2019), but can also delay or obstruct opportunities to organise childcare arrangements with caregiving relatives. Granted, some mothers are reluctant to disclose information about their children to criminal justice agencies out of fear that social services will remove them from their care (Brooks-Gordon and Bainham, 2004). This may occur as a result of negative past experiences with practitioners or ‘stories’ about the role and practices of social welfare agencies. Nevertheless, many mothers are not given the chance to disclose details of their children or to seek advice about childcare provisions in the event that a custodial sentence is given. This is despite courts serving England and Wales being bound by European legislations which state that a primary consideration should be given to the best interests of the child when a court is considering a decision to separate a child from their parent through a custodial sentence (see the European Convention on Human Rights³ [ECHR] and the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child [UNCRC] [United Nations, 1989]). Short, informative videos aimed at sentencers and mothers produced from research conducted by Minson (2018b) are an attempt to bridge this gap, though the potential of these films can only be reached if they are shared widely and changes are implemented consistently.

Mothers were also found to be failed at court by following advice from legal practitioners to plead guilty in order to avoid prison (Masson, 2019). This poor counsel left mothers wholly unequipped for the custodial sentence that then followed, and significantly impacted opportunities to prepare children for the separation, or to organise childcare. Of critical concern is that all these practices can also exclude family members – as potential caregivers – from the process and the decisions that will directly concern them as the ones caring for children thereafter. One study with mothers at Her Majesty’s Prison (HMP) Holloway reported that a quarter of caregivers had not anticipated a custodial sentence and were given little notice, or opportunity, to prepare to assume these childcare responsibilities (Boswell and Wood, 2011). Again, a glance back to Linda’s story in the Preface shows some of the practical and emotional realities that can face relatives with little time or opportunity to prepare to assume the full-time care of children.

As well as being physically separated from children and families by the custodial sentence, women are also held in prisons geographically far away from their homes (Corston, 2007; HMIP [Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Prisons], 2010; NOMS [National Offender Management System]2013). The sizeably smaller female prisoner population means that there are fewer female prison establishments (currently 12), which are dispersed across England. Despite calls for women to be housed closer to their children and families (NOMS, 2013), with Baroness Corston’s (2007) review suggesting that this could be achieved through a dispersed set of smaller custodial hubs, visitors of female prisons continue to travel longer distances for face-to-face contact. There are also no female prisons in Wales (NOMS, 2013) or the Isle of Wight (Baldwin, 2017); therefore, all female prisoners are detained in England,⁴ potentially causing more practical and financial obstacles for families from other regions to maintain contact through prison visits. In addition, research has highlighted the myriad of challenges facing family members wishing to sustain contact with a loved one in prison (HMIP, 2016). This includes the stress of taking long journeys to the prison (Christian, 2005), stringent and degrading search procedures (Arditti et al, 2003; Condry, 2007a; Codd, 2008), restrictive visiting environments that can prevent meaningful parent-child interactions (Booth, 2016, 2018a), and costly telephone calls (PRT, 2006; Booth, 2018b). It is important to consider what this means, as well as how this is managed by family members caring for children during maternal imprisonment. Otherwise, recent policy attention (Farmer, 2017, 2019; JCHR, 2019; MoJ and HMPPS, 2019a) directed towards supporting prisoners’ family ties runs the risk of failing families.

Discussions about contact in the prison setting take a different form when mothers are given a place on Mother and Baby Units (MBUs). Mothers of babies and young children usually under 18 months of age may be eligible for one of six MBUs located inside female prisons serving England and Wales (NOMS, 2011c). The motivations behind MBUs ‘reflect society’s normal assumption that the best place for a young child is with his or her parent’, and they operate in the best interests of the children who reside there (NOMS, 2011c: 2). Recent studies have contributed much-needed insights into mothers’ experiences of MBUs (O’Keeffe and Dixon, 2015; Abbott, 2018); however, it is not clear how fathers or other caregiving family members consider these facilities. Familial perspectives are of value given that they may be supporting the mother practically, emotionally and financially while also attempting to maintain family relationships with the baby housed in the prison.

Taken together, the process of incarcerating women cannot be divorced from their roles and responsibilities as mothers. Yet, as prisons are stubbornly favoured as the ‘response’ to lawbreaking, and policymakers continue to evade, ignore or fail to implement gender-specific policies for mothers (Corston, 2007; MoJ, 2018d), it is vital that room is made to voice the experiences of people for whom maternal imprisonment is a reality. In this book, it is the caregivers’ narratives and experiences that are privileged.

Caregivers: the forgotten family members

Recently, a considerable body of knowledge on the impact of imprisonment on families (Condry and Scharff Smith, 2018) has developed, alongside an increased focus on the ‘collateral consequences’ of imprisonment (Turanovic et al, 2012) and rising prisoner populations internationally (World Prison Brief, 2019). Most of this has focused on the experiences of partners and children (Jardine, 2018), especially when a male relative is imprisoned (Codd, 2008). Likewise, there is an increasing amount of evidence that highlights the degree to which mothers and children suffer; yet, while it is widely acknowledged that children often require a replacement caregiver and are looked after by relatives, these relatives’ accounts still remain largely absent or ‘forgotten’ in academic research, as well as policy. This is likely an unintended consequence of the overriding social concern for the mothers, their children and the dyadic mother-child relationship. However, as caregiving relatives also occupy a prominent position in the wake of the mother’s imprisonment, there are important lessons to be learned from looking more closely at these forgotten kin.

A closer look at caregivers’ experiences

Research with prisoners’ families has indicated how the bulk of the familial responsibilities fall to women (Condry, 2007b; Codd, 2008). This attunes with research identifying children’s caregivers as grandparents and female relatives during maternal imprisonment (Caddle and Crisp, 1997). In England and Wales, research with grandmother-caregivers (Raikes, 2016; Baldwin, forthcoming) indicates the emotional challenges of looking after children in later life and with limited support. Following previous research with prisoners’ families (Condry, 2007a), feelings of stigma were also pervasive (Minson, 2018a). Undoubtedly, these studies have improved our understanding of some of the challenges and concerns of caring; however, as with women in prison (Rowe, 2011) and the children of prisoners (Laing and McCarthy, 2005), caregiving kin are not a homogeneous group with homogeneous experiences (Turanovic et al, 2012; Jardine, 2018). Although it is ‘known’ that most children are looked after within the family when the mother goes to prison, there is little evidence that shows how their families may be constructed or what their familial circumstances might look like before, during and after prison.

An important consideration is the way in which families construct ‘new family obligations’ (Hairston, 2009: 10) following a mother’s prison sentence. Of particular interest is the impact on domestic, relational and emotional circumstances, as well as the shifting roles and responsibilities as family members adapt their everyday, family practices to respond to the changed circumstances (Morgan, 2011). This relates to both the short-term renegotiations immediately after the mother is imprisoned and to changes in the long term to account for the continued absence, the children’s shifting needs and the experiences of navigating around the criminal justice system. Likewise, most children move home when their mother goes to prison (Caddle and Crisp, 1997; PRT, 2018) but little is known about the household into which the children move, including the presence of other dependants, such as the caregivers’ own children. Thus, awareness of the wider familial context surrounding the mother’s imprisonment will also help to unpack the nature and scope of caregiving experiences within the wider family. This includes further exploration of the role and positionality of children’s fathers, who are poorly explored in discussions of caregiving in this context (Flynn, 2011), either as sole caregivers to children or as a potential form of support to other caregiving relatives (for example, grandmothers). For instance, it may be appropriate to question the relationship that the father of Linda’s grandsons might have, and what role he might assume in the absence of their mother (see the Preface).

Kin caregivers might have – or have had – a close relationship with the mother in prison. Research refers to the ‘double’ pains of grandparents raising grandchildren in the absence of their own children, whether a temporary or permanent loss, and for whom they are grieving (Selwyn et al, 2013; Raikes, 2016). For the children of prisoners, this loss has been conceptualised as ‘ambiguous’ (Bockneck et al, 2009) as their parents can be emotionally present while physically remote (Boss, 2016). As such, the emotionality of the loss and separation that may be experienced by caregiving kin is worthy of further exploration. The research conducted in the US by Turanovic and colleagues (2012) indicates that parent-caregiver relationships influenced childcare arrangements and practices, including the maintenance of contact. Indeed, several studies in the US have highlighted the caregiver’s role as a ‘gatekeeper’ or facilitator of mother–child contact due to their central role in enabling communication during the prison sentence (Barnes and Cunningham Stringer, 2014; Tasca et al, 2016). It is because of this critical role in maintaining mother-child contact that research with caregiving kin needs to capture nuances in interpersonal relationships and family dynamics, which, as Codd (2008) argues, are more suited to qualitative research methods.

Existing literature strongly suggests that being in a position of providing kinship care (Selwyn et al, 2013) or in a prisoner’s family (SEU [Social Exclusion Unit], 2002; Christian et al, 2006; Codd, 2008; Dixey and Woodall, 2012) can involve significant strain on low-income families. The loss of income from the imprisoned person and financially supporting a prisoner – by sending money to a relative in prison or owing to the high costs of maintaining contact – can be burdensome. Likewise, child rearing brings its own set of financial requirements, from feeding and clothing children, to paying for nursery places and other essentials. Increased childcare responsibilities may impact a caregiver’s ability to participate in paid work and, as previous research suggests (Selwyn et al, 2013; Raikes, 2016), grandparent-caregivers may struggle to afford these necessities from their pension pots. Therefore, there is a need to expand our understanding of kin caregiving by qualitatively exploring the everyday lives, practices and perspectives of relatives who assume childcare responsibilities. A key part of this ought to focus on how the caregiving relatives perceive their roles and responsibilities, and how these insights will help to inform policy and practice by identifying what support they might receive – and also need.

Supporting prisoners’ families: policy, practice and wider society

Prisoners’ family ties have received considerable policy attention in recent years (Farmer, 2017; JCHR, 2019). This has come from the publication of several government documents (SEU, 2002), policy initiatives (Home Office, 2004) and prison policies (NOMS, 2011b) that have advocated the maintenance of family ties between prisoners and their relatives. This interest stems from a perspective that has gained legitimacy and which supposes that family ties can produce better outcomes for the prisoners and society. This is because families can function as a source of social capital, bringing social and relational connections, as well as practical support with housing and employment, to the prisoner’s development and resettlement process. The need to support family ties is too closely intertwined with discussions about reducing reoffending, which, unsurprisingly, is a social and economic anxiety of the government given that 64 per cent of people reoffended within one year of release from prison in 2016 (MoJ, 2019). Although there are pragmatic reasons why familial relationships should be considered as a resettlement agency, Codd (2007) has cautioned that an overreliance on under-supported and under-resourced family members is problematic. There has also been little consideration of the different needs or circumstances of different ‘families’ discussed in policy rhetoric (see Booth, 2017c; Masson and Booth, 2018). Thus, the fashioning of families in this capacity focuses only on their usefulness in supporting the prisoner, as well as the prison service and the state, while failing to appreciate the characteristics or challenges associated with being a family grappling with the repercussions of having a member in prison.

Prisoners’ families are heavily reliant on services provided by third sector and voluntary organisations, including the Prisoner Advice and Care Trust (PACT), Partners of Prisoners (POPS), Barnardo’s and Children Heard and Seen. Providing virtual support, the ‘Prisoners’ Families Helpline’ is an effective free phone service funded by the government but managed by the voluntary sector to provide information and guidance to the family members of prisoners (Codd, 2007; Sharratt, 2014). The positive developments that emerged following Lord Farmer’s (2017, 2019) landmark reviews are welcomed, for instance, through increased accountability and pressure on prisons to produce and publish ‘Family and Significant Other Strategies’ for the National Information Centre for Children of Offenders (NICCO⁵). Arguably, the traction that has accompanied Lord Farmer’s reports from policy to practice has increased awareness and prominence of family work in some prisons. However, the Assisted Prison Visits Scheme (APVS) is the only statutory, economic resource for low-income family members seeking financial support to engage in prison visits. It is not clear how widely this resource is used by families, including the caregiving kin of the children of female prisoners. Moreover, sustained and adequate funding for charities (Codd, 2008; NPC [New Philanthropy Capital], 2011), alongside cuts to public sector funding (Ricketts, 2018), create a ‘postcode lottery’ (Raikes, 2016) of support for families and bring about serious challenges for the voluntary sector to continue bearing responsibility for the needs of those with a loved one in prison.

One reason that the families of prisoners are systemically disregarded and under-supported in policy and practice links to negative depictions of this social group derived from erroneous and discriminatory social perceptions of prisons and prisoners. Prison remains hidden in society (King and Wincup, 2000; Martin, 2000) and so it is difficult for many people to grasp its unique essence.⁶ Linked to this, people in the general population often draw on media representations to gain some insight into prisons and prison life, though these are dramatised and present inaccurate images of the realities of crime and punishment (Sparks, 1992; Mason, 2007; Marsh, 2009). The lack of social verification for families experiencing imprisonment may therefore occur as prison is not viewed as a familial ‘loss’ that is socially significant (Arditti, 2016) or worthy of attention and support. Their proximity and relationship to the prisoner – as someone who is a devalued individual in society by virtue of their crime (Goffman, 1963) – results in a diminished social status for the families. From her research with the family members of serious offenders, Condry (2007b) found that ‘kin contamination’ and ‘kin culpability’ were widely experienced in these families. ‘Kin contamination’, attuned to Goffman’s (1963) ‘courtesy stigma’ theory, found that the family’s relationship to the stigmatised individual caused their status to be similarly devalued. Meanwhile, ‘kin culpability’ refers to the application of blame to families for their failure to successfully function and produce citizens to the expectations of society. Put another way, kin culpability might be better known as family blaming.

It is unclear how occupying this vulnerable and largely under-supported social position – conceptualised in this book as a ‘disenfranchised social status’ – affects the lives and experiences of family members responsible for children whose mothers have been removed into prison by the state. This is problematic against the current backdrop of policy rhetoric that has seemingly advocated support for prisoners’ family ties in recent years (SEU, 2002; Home Office, 2004; MoJ and HMPPS, 2019a). Of critical concern is that this knowledge gap may undermine recent policies supposedly directed towards prisoners’ families and children as without a clear picture of the issues, policies run the risk of failing to respond adequately to the needs and often disadvantaged circumstances of these forgotten family members.

Relatedly, readers are asked to keep in mind that the discussions about family members and children reveal the challenging experiences of people who have themselves committed no infractions; they have not been accused or convicted of breaking any law. From many standpoints – legal, ethical, logical, humanitarian and economic – these relatives ought not to be punished as a result of the mother’s conviction, though realistically they are. Thus, to try to account for the nature, scope and ways in which this custodial sentence – as a penal punishment aimed, legally, at the mother – spills over into the lives and experiences of caregivers and the wider family, the concept of the ‘family sentence’ is also developed and woven throughout this book.

Chapter overview

Chapter Two outlines the methodology used in this book, including the theoretical framework and methods selected. Importantly, this chapter also introduces each of the 15 families who participated in this study to ensure that the reader is well acquainted with their lives and experiences. Chapters Three, Four, Five and Six present the accounts of caregiving relatives looking after the children of women in prisons serving England and Wales. Chapter Three examines family constructions and caregiving practices within families, paying close attention to the relationships within families and social networks. Chapter Four looks at the different ways in which caregivers had to renegotiate their lives in the aftermath of the mother’s sentence, both in the short and long term. Chapter Five focuses on the caregiver’s experience of navigating the criminal justice system, and Chapter Six explores the caregiver’s social status, including experiences of stigma.

Tying together the empirical findings, Chapter Seven reviews the key themes that underpin the research and that have emerged from listening to the caregiving kin: the ‘family sentence’ and the caregiver’s ‘disenfranchised social status’. In looking to the future and listening to families, these nuanced insights are used to inform recommendations to improve policy and practice. Finally, Chapter Eight is a reflective chapter that seeks to shed light on the experience of ‘doing’ the research.

Summary

Many of the issues traditionally associated with maternal imprisonment focus on the adversities and challenges facing mothers and children. This chapter has shown why there is also a need to understand the demands placed on the wider family – and especially caregiving relatives – during this time. Failing to do this ignores the social, penal and familial costs of separating thousands of family members every year. It could also perpetuate one-dimensional images of maternal imprisonment in the criminal justice system, the media, policy and society that do not do justice to the severe complexities and ramifications of this form of punishment for the whole family. To begin to redress this balance, this book intends to highlight the lived experiences of caregiving kin so that they may be incorporated into our understanding of the implications of imprisoning a mother. The Preface to the book began by introducing readers to the story of Linda, a grandmother caring for her three grandsons following her daughter’s unexpected imprisonment. Likewise, the family-centred approach underpinning the study places the caregivers’ thoughts, perceptions and experiences at the heart of the research process and, correspondingly, throughout this book.

Notes

¹Following definitions of ‘kin’ and ‘kinship’ in the sociological literature, throughout this book, this term denotes anyone related to, or associated with, the family, including those traditionally seen as family through blood marriage and law, as well as friends and other members within the family’s social network (McCarthy and Edwards, 2011).

²However, there are welcomed discussions taking place which propose that sentences of six months or less should be removed (Dearden, 2019).

³This is through the adoption of principles in the Human Rights Act 1998.

⁴Depicting the population of female prisoners (both Welsh and English) in the prisons in England, the term ‘serving England and Wales’ will be used to account for the distribution of women’s prisons in this book.

⁵NICCO is an online information service established for anyone (for example, professionals and academics) who comes into contact with children and family members who have a relative in prison (see: https://www.nicco.org.uk/).

⁶Awareness of how prison is ‘hidden’ in our society was a key motivator for the prison placement that was undertaken before planning the study (see the Preface).