Maternal Imprisonment and Family Life. Booth, Natalie
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NATALIE BOOTH
MATERNAL IMPRISONMENT AND FAMILY LIFE
From the Caregiver’s Perspective
First published in Great Britain in 2020 by
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© Policy Press 2020
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ISBN 978-1-4473-5229-7 hardcover
ISBN 978-1-4473-5231-0 ePub
ISBN 978-1-4473-5230-3 ePdf
The right of Natalie Booth to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Contents
List of tables
Acknowledgements
Preface: Linda’s story
oneThe landscape of maternal imprisonment: caregiving and family life
twoResearching the caregiver’s lived experiences
threeFamily constructions and caregiving practices
fourRenegotiating family life: caregiving in the aftermath of the mother’s imprisonment
fiveNavigating the criminal justice system
sixSocial support, familial stigma and release
sevenKin caregiving: occupying a disenfranchised status while serving the family sentence
eightReflections on the research process
References
Index
List of tables
2.1Caregivers: their demographics and childcare arrangements
3.1Doubly invisible children
3.2Fathering practices
5.1Distance from home to prison (one way)
There is a long list of people who have helped and encouraged me during this study, and my thanks go to all of them. My particular thanks go to the families who took part in the research for the trust they placed in me as they openly shared their stories and experiences. I hope that I have done justice to their accounts and have stayed true to their views and meanings. I would also like to thank the staff at the four female prisons for their assistance, especially Nessa. I am grateful for the generous financial assistance provided by the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) for my studentship.
I would particularly like to express my gratitude and appreciation for the heartening guidance, encouragement and advice that I received from Professor Tess Ridge. Special thanks are also reserved for my academic colleagues, family and friends who supported me with this task, and especially to those who supported me during fieldwork and read earlier versions of my work – you know who are you are, thank you. I am especially grateful to Denise for her enduring support, to my Mum for her unwavering confidence in me and to my husband, without whom doing this work would have seemed impossible.
I would like to dedicate this work to two very important people who are unfortunately no longer with me, my grandma and grandad. They were the kindest and most generous of grandparents who taught me that love is the key ingredient in life.
A woman in her 50s approaches me. In one hand, she is carrying two, slightly torn black bin bags bulging with clothes, while the other hand rests on a pram where a little bundle of joy lies asleep. It is January and despite only just coming inside from the cold street, her forehead is shiny with small droplets of perspiration. Her face is drawn, her body vibrating a little. Her mouth does not move, but she speaks to me. I feel her eyes desperately search my face for an indication of hope, and this tells me that she needs my help.
One bus, two trains and a 40-minute walk later, Linda has arrived. Linda is not her real name of course, but she is a real person. Linda has not been to a prison before. Then again, neither has Linda’s daughter. She tells me this while scanning the room suspiciously. I explain that we are sat a little outside the prison in the prison visitor’s centre and that I work with the prison family support team. We drink a cup of tea together, and I try to answer her questions: “Do I have the right ID for the visit?”; “Who do I give the bin bags of clothes to?”; “Is she safe?” I learn that Linda is proud to be Nana to the bundle of joy still asleep in the pram, as well as to two little blonde-haired boys – one aged seven and one aged five. Fighting back tears, she tells me that the children have not seen their mum since Thursday morning. She tells me that the teachers had phoned her and asked her to collect the boys from school. Linda had been confused and worried but she went, still wearing her bright green ASDA T-shirt, and was perspiring much like she is today – except today is Tuesday.
Linda said that her daughter had been summoned to court on Thursday, but until the school had phoned, she had thought nothing of it. She explained