SWOP Behind Bars stories

For most people, the idea of college brings to mind lecture halls, laptops, and late-night study sessions. But for incarcerated women—especially survivors of trafficking and violence—higher education looks very different. It’s not about campus tours or dorm life. It’s about handwritten essays, 37-page packets, weeks of waiting for feedback, and figuring out how to pay for a textbook with commissary wages. In this second post of our...

When a certain child rescue organization—you know, the one whose name sounds like a Christian indie band—published their recent reflection titled “Mistakes happen in anti-trafficking work. We must learn from them,” a strange thing happened across the sex worker rights community.

We collectively blinked. Really slowly.

Not in shock, but in that tired, long-suffering way you blink when someone finally repeats back something you’ve be...

For years, prisons were called “crime schools” because people learned more about how to survive in the underground economy than how to build a stable life. But over the past two decades, peer educators, survivor-led programs, and small but mighty prison college initiatives have begun to shift that narrative. Inside, women are not just learning—they’re teaching. They’re guiding each other through case law, GED exams, and grief recov...

For criminalized women—especially those who’ve survived trafficking, incarceration, and generational poverty—the idea of “formal education” often feels like a fortress: high walls, locked gates, and a very specific key held by someone on the other side. If you didn’t get your high school diploma at 18 or walk across a stage in a cap and gown, you’re somehow seen as less equipped, less capable, less… educated.

But let’s break down h...

Let’s be real—if myths about sex work were dollar bills, every stripper in America would be retired by now, sipping cocktails on a beach somewhere and finally getting paid what she's worth. But instead of cashing in, sex workers are still stuck cashing out the emotional and legal damage from decades of moral panic and misinformation.

These tired narratives don’t just misinform—they fuel stigma, drive harmful legislation, justify po...

Education is one of the few concrete tools that can reduce the risk of re-exploitation. Survivors who are able to return to school—whether to finish a GED, complete a college degree, or learn a trade—gain more than academic knowledge. They gain economic mobility, self-efficacy, a supportive peer community, and the tools to advocate for themselves in complex systems. Studies consistently show that financial insecurity is one of the ...

There’s a version of feminism out there that wears a pussyhat, clutches her pearls, and still calls the manager when a sex worker speaks at a panel. She’s the board member who proudly posts “women supporting women” selfies, yet signs off on policies that systematically exclude trans women, criminalized mothers, and survivors who sell sex just to stay housed. She believes in women’s empowerment—as long as it arrives wrapped in a col...

The GED Gap — Why Basic Education Still Isn’t Basic (Especially if You're a Woman in a Cage

Let’s be clear: education has always been hyped as “the great equalizer.” A ladder out of poverty. A ticket to freedom. Blah blah bootstrap narrative. But for incarcerated women—especially survivors of trafficking, abuse, and generational poverty—education isn’t just inaccessible, it’s practically mythical.

We’re talking about women who’ve b...

Ashley’s only “crime” was surviving. Years earlier, she had been trafficked. Then criminalized. Then released. And like so many others, when resources ran out and opportunities closed, she turned back to the only means of survival she knew. The system didn’t offer support. It offered a cell.

And when she asked for help—real help, in the form of a diversion program—they slammed the door in her face.

She was taken from court the next...

We’ve spent the last five blog posts tracing the landscape of reproductive injustice, pregnancy and birth behind bars, mental health neglect, and the painful gaps that derail reentry for women who’ve been incarcerated. And now, in this final post, we turn toward hope and action.

Because while the criminal legal system continues to fail women—especially Black, brown, trans, disabled, and low-income women—communities are leading the ...

The moment a woman is released from incarceration is supposed to mark a new beginning. But for many, especially those with untreated health conditions, trauma, or chronic illnesses, reentry is more like walking off a cliff with no net below.

Incarcerated women often leave prison or jail with no medical records, no prescriptions, no referrals, and no support. After months—or years—of inadequate care, their health needs remain unreso...

At SWOP Behind Bars, we don't just talk about justice—we embody it. And let’s be real: in this work, survival alone isn't the goal. We're here for thriving. That means care that's intentional, compassion that's culturally competent, and connection that doesn't vanish when the paperwork's done.

Our team isn’t made up of robots or case numbers—we’re human bein...

Here’s the million-dollar question—and it says more about society’s deep-seated stigma than it ever will about the capability, wisdom, or contributions of sex workers and sex worker rights activists: Why aren’t sex workers being recognized and utilized as powerful tools in the fight for good and evil? It’s a question that should make everyone uncomfortable, because the answer isn’t rooted in a lack of experience, insight, or leader...