From the Inside: Harm Reduction in a System That Still Exists
Reentry is About Partnerships in Unexpected Places
Opening
I’ve heard it more than once.
People get angry when formerly incarcerated folks go back into prisons as volunteers.
They question the motives. They question the impact. Sometimes they question the integrity of it.
I’ve also seen tension when people who work inside the criminal justice system show up to reentry, prison reform, or abolitionist spaces. There’s suspicion. Friction. Sometimes outright hostility.
And I understand where that comes from.
But I also think we’re missing something important.
“Systems change takes years. Survival is daily. We don’t get to abandon people while we wait.”
What’s Happening
There are two kinds of work happening at the same time.
There are people working on the outside to change laws, dismantle systems, and push for abolition. That work matters. It’s necessary. It’s long-term.
And then there are people working inside or alongside the system as it exists right now.
That includes:
Public defenders trying to get someone the least harmful outcome possible
Peer support specialists walking alongside people in crisis
Probation and parole officers balancing enforcement with discretion
Judges making decisions inside a narrow legal framework
Addiction counselors working with people in active struggle
Diversion center staff trying to create alternatives to incarceration
Reentry specialists helping people navigate release, supervision, and stabilization
Organizations working directly with courts, probation, parole, and system officials to coordinate services and reduce failure points
Volunteers going back inside to reach people before release
That work is immediate. It’s today.
The tension comes when we treat these efforts as if they cancel each other out.
Why It Matters
Because while we argue about strategy and ideology, people are still inside.
People are still sitting in cells. Still navigating violence. Still trying to survive environments most folks never have to think about.
People are still cycling through courts, probation, and parole systems that can either stabilize them or send them right back.
People are still being routed through diversion programs and reentry pathways that may be the difference between a second chance and another conviction.
And people are still coming home every day with nothing. No housing. No income. No support. No roadmap.
Systems change takes years. Sometimes decades.
But survival is daily.
If we don’t hold both realities at once, we risk abandoning people in the name of long-term change.
Where the System Breaks
The system doesn’t pause while we organize.
It doesn’t wait for better policies. It doesn’t slow down for reform cycles or legislative timelines.
People are processed through it continuously.
And inside that system:
Public defenders are often overloaded, with limited time per case
Judges operate within constraints that don’t always allow for real solutions
Probation and parole can become technical traps instead of support structures
Diversion options exist, but access is inconsistent
Reentry coordination between systems is often fragmented or nonexistent
Organizations working with the system are frequently under-resourced and stretched thin
Treatment is often underfunded, fragmented, or conditional
Even on the outside, after release:
Housing is unstable or unavailable
Employment is difficult to secure
Supervision requirements can set people up to fail
Mental health and substance use support is inconsistent
Navigation between systems becomes a barrier in itself
The system isn’t designed around successful reentry. It’s designed around control.
So people fall through the cracks. Over and over again.
What This Looks Like in Practice
Going back inside as a volunteer isn’t about endorsing the system.
It’s about reaching people where they are.
It’s sitting across from someone who is about to be released and helping them understand what they’re walking into. It’s sharing information that isn’t always clearly given. It’s offering a level of honesty that people inside don’t often get.
It’s showing someone that there is life after incarceration, not in theory, but in practice.
And it’s not just volunteers.
It’s a public defender taking the extra time to explain options instead of rushing a plea.
It’s a probation officer choosing to connect someone to services instead of immediately filing a violation.
It’s an addiction counselor meeting someone where they are instead of where policy says they should be.
It’s diversion center staff creating a space where people can stabilize instead of being booked into jail.
It’s a reentry specialist helping someone navigate IDs, housing, supervision requirements, and basic survival.
It’s organizations coordinating with courts, probation, and parole to keep someone from slipping through gaps that shouldn’t exist in the first place.
It’s peer support showing up consistently when systems don’t.
That doesn’t mean the system is okay.
It means people inside it are still human.
And sometimes, they are the only point of contact someone has before everything goes sideways.
Analysis
This is harm reduction.
Not in the narrow sense, but in the broader reality of reducing harm inside systems that produce it.
Harm reduction means we don’t wait for perfect conditions before we act.
We don’t say, “We’ll help once the system is fixed.”
Because the system isn’t fixed. And people are still moving through it every day.
There’s a tendency in advocacy spaces to draw hard lines. To separate people into categories. Inside vs. outside. System vs. movement. Complicit vs. aligned.
But reality is messier than that.
And yes, I understand that there are times and spaces where people directly impacted need to be with each other. Spaces that are closed. Spaces that are about healing, safety, and not having to explain anything to anyone outside that experience.
Those spaces matter.
But they are not the whole of the work.
People exist in overlap.
A judge can be bound by law and still try to use discretion where possible.
A probation officer can enforce conditions and still try to keep someone from falling apart.
A public defender can operate in a broken system and still fight for better outcomes.
A reentry organization can work with courts and still be committed to long-term change.
A peer support specialist can bridge gaps that policy doesn’t even acknowledge.
And someone can believe the system should be dismantled and still show up inside it to help people survive it.
Those are not contradictions.
That’s complexity.
What Needs to Change
We need to stop treating harm reduction work inside the system as betrayal.
We need to recognize it as part of a larger ecosystem of change.
That means:
Valuing the people doing real support work inside and around the system
Recognizing the role of reentry specialists and organizations coordinating across systems
Making space for collaboration without losing accountability
Holding systems responsible while still supporting the people navigating them
Understanding that survival work and systems change are not competing priorities
It also means being honest about timelines.
Policy change is slow. Cultural change is slower. Systems don’t dismantle overnight.
So the question becomes:
What are we doing for the people inside right now?
Closing
There are people working to tear down broken systems.
And there are people working to help others survive them.
Sometimes, those are the same people.
We need both.
Because until those systems change, people are still living inside them.
And survival can’t wait.
Sources
Primary Reporting & Data
Bureau of Justice Statistics — Recidivism and reentry outcomes
U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development — Housing instability and reentry
Research & Background
Prison Policy Initiative — Barriers to reentry
Urban Institute — Reentry and system coordination
Lived Experience & Field Practice
Author’s experience in incarceration, reentry, and homelessness systems
About Reentry & Beyond
Reentry & Beyond sits at the intersection of incarceration, homelessness, and the barriers people face rebuilding their lives. Grounded in lived experience and real-world work, it examines how systems function, where they fail, and what it takes to move forward.
About the Author
Atma Meek is an abolitionist, strategist, and reentry advocate based in Austin, Texas. Formerly incarcerated and system-impacted, they focus on bridging gaps between reentry, homelessness, and community systems to improve real-world outcomes.