AARP Hearing Center
Burton gives female parolees tools for rebuilding their lives after prison and advocates nationally for such support.
At 46 years old, Susan Burton didn’t have a lot going for her. It was 1997. She was fresh out of jail, and not for the first time. On her way out the prison guard said, “I’ll see you back in a little while.”
It wasn’t unlikely. Years before, Burton’s 5-year-old son had been killed when he ran into the street and was struck by a car being driven by an off-duty police officer. Wild with grief, she took drugs, became addicted, got arrested for a nonviolent crime, went to prison, got out and then did it all over and over again for nearly 20 years. Her relationship with her daughter, who was 15 when her brother died, collapsed.
But this time a friend helped Burton find a job as a live-in caregiver for an elderly woman. Wanting to further improve her life by staying off drugs, Burton went to a treatment facility. The help she got in treatment made her realize that there was “another way.”
Soon she had saved $12,000 and bought a bungalow on a flat, sunbaked street in South Los Angeles, a notoriously rough neighborhood. Finally, she was ready to start anew.
Staying sober was one thing. Finding support was another.
“I just knew that doors were shutting everywhere,” Burton says.
When she tried to sign up for a program to become a licensed home care aide, for instance, she found out that a felony conviction meant she could never earn a license in the field. Virtually all the resources an addict trying to keep clean and out of jail might need – food stamps, housing assistance, easy employment access – were out of Burton’s reach because of her record.
Steadfast about not going back, Burton came up with a new plan. “I know what I can do,” she recalls thinking. “I can help other women like myself, and nobody can stop me.”