Ken
03-12-2003, 06:30 PM
Posted on Sun, Mar. 09, 2003
Society shuns ex-cons
By Bob Ray Sanders
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
They had come by the hundreds, eager and excited about the possibilities that had enticed them to this unique event.
But the exhilaration did not last long.
As I approached the podium and stood before them Wednesday morning, their faces spoke volumes before I ever heard their voices.
There was more than disappointment displayed in their facial expressions and other body language. They were utterly disgusted, and many of them were quite angry.
I was the guest speaker for this first-of-its-kind job fair, but it was quite clear this crowd was in no mood for speeches.
So, other than to tell them that I understood their feelings and that I was a supporter willing to tell their story, I was not about to give a formal speech. Instead, I announced that I wanted to hear from them, and they were ready to be heard.
They were parolees -- ex-cons, if you will -- who had come looking for work. Some were dressed in business attire, many of them brought resumes and a few had brought along family and friends for support.
The problem was that the event's organizer, Texas Inmate Services, had invited 1,500 prospective employers and only two (Avon and a truck driving school) and a handful of social service agencies showed up.
Many long, empty folding tables that were to serve as company booths remained bare and unmanned. It was a rather depressing sight.
On arrival I noticed a disgruntled murmur in the crowded room, and it didn't take long to realize that something was very wrong.
"Where are the folks doing the hiring?" was the most asked question.
"We can't worry about that now," I told them. Rather, I said, we should talk about what they were going to do to fulfill one of the terms of their parole -- getting a job -- and take care of their other responsibilities.
We turned the meeting into an Oprah-Phil-Montel-type forum.
The individuals present had no fear of approaching the microphone and voicing their concern about the lack of job openings for them, their worries about trying to support their families and their contempt for a society that doesn't seem to want to give them a second or third chance to prove their worth.
Some have been looking for work for months. Rodney, a 38-year-old Haltom City man who was paroled in November, told me later that he had been pounding the pavement every day since December, filling out applications, but that employers won't even give him the courtesy of a call back.
"We go out there to find a job," he said, "and they slam the door in our face."
Many of the parolees had advice for others in the room: change your attitude, present yourself well, be persistent and continue to trust in God no matter what happens.
They are aware that these are tough economic times, and that many people who have no criminal record are also looking for jobs. They also realize that society has a natural prejudice and fear of people who have been to prison.
But their major concern is that too many employers only look at one thing on their applications, no matter how skilled they are or how many good recommendations they have.
That one thing is the response to the question, "Have you ever been convicted of a felony?"
If they answer yes, they are usually not hired. If they answer no and get the job, they are often fired the first time a parole officer calls or comes around checking on them.
We have a responsibility to these men and women who have served their time. Our society can't simply discard thousands of people because they have a criminal record. We owe them a chance.
Otherwise, in these tough economic times, we should be prepared to build another billion dollars worth of prisons and be prepared to take care of their families when no one else is around to provide for them.
Society shuns ex-cons
By Bob Ray Sanders
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
They had come by the hundreds, eager and excited about the possibilities that had enticed them to this unique event.
But the exhilaration did not last long.
As I approached the podium and stood before them Wednesday morning, their faces spoke volumes before I ever heard their voices.
There was more than disappointment displayed in their facial expressions and other body language. They were utterly disgusted, and many of them were quite angry.
I was the guest speaker for this first-of-its-kind job fair, but it was quite clear this crowd was in no mood for speeches.
So, other than to tell them that I understood their feelings and that I was a supporter willing to tell their story, I was not about to give a formal speech. Instead, I announced that I wanted to hear from them, and they were ready to be heard.
They were parolees -- ex-cons, if you will -- who had come looking for work. Some were dressed in business attire, many of them brought resumes and a few had brought along family and friends for support.
The problem was that the event's organizer, Texas Inmate Services, had invited 1,500 prospective employers and only two (Avon and a truck driving school) and a handful of social service agencies showed up.
Many long, empty folding tables that were to serve as company booths remained bare and unmanned. It was a rather depressing sight.
On arrival I noticed a disgruntled murmur in the crowded room, and it didn't take long to realize that something was very wrong.
"Where are the folks doing the hiring?" was the most asked question.
"We can't worry about that now," I told them. Rather, I said, we should talk about what they were going to do to fulfill one of the terms of their parole -- getting a job -- and take care of their other responsibilities.
We turned the meeting into an Oprah-Phil-Montel-type forum.
The individuals present had no fear of approaching the microphone and voicing their concern about the lack of job openings for them, their worries about trying to support their families and their contempt for a society that doesn't seem to want to give them a second or third chance to prove their worth.
Some have been looking for work for months. Rodney, a 38-year-old Haltom City man who was paroled in November, told me later that he had been pounding the pavement every day since December, filling out applications, but that employers won't even give him the courtesy of a call back.
"We go out there to find a job," he said, "and they slam the door in our face."
Many of the parolees had advice for others in the room: change your attitude, present yourself well, be persistent and continue to trust in God no matter what happens.
They are aware that these are tough economic times, and that many people who have no criminal record are also looking for jobs. They also realize that society has a natural prejudice and fear of people who have been to prison.
But their major concern is that too many employers only look at one thing on their applications, no matter how skilled they are or how many good recommendations they have.
That one thing is the response to the question, "Have you ever been convicted of a felony?"
If they answer yes, they are usually not hired. If they answer no and get the job, they are often fired the first time a parole officer calls or comes around checking on them.
We have a responsibility to these men and women who have served their time. Our society can't simply discard thousands of people because they have a criminal record. We owe them a chance.
Otherwise, in these tough economic times, we should be prepared to build another billion dollars worth of prisons and be prepared to take care of their families when no one else is around to provide for them.