Healing Together: A Women’s Support Group Transforms Justice in Ramsey County

 

 

 

A unique support group in Ramsey County is fostering healing and change for women involved in the legal system. Founded three years ago, the group brings together individuals from diverse backgrounds, including women re-entering society, judges, attorneys, and other community members, to share experiences and support one another. The group is exploring ways to manage its rapid growth while maintaining its core mission of mutual support and healing.

Brenda Roth, a participant, credits the group for helping her confront past trauma and find strength. “The support here has been life-changing,” she says. The weekly gatherings, held at the Wilder Foundation, focus on conversation, healing, and community-building. She wishes this kind of healing had been possible before her incarceration. “Someone who understood that I needed treatment would have helped.”

The women’s group started with fewer than a dozen people. Today there are nearly 70 people attending the weekly gatherings for 1.5 hours of conversation and food. “We’ve had people from different counties in Minnesota [coming] to see and listen who were very impressed,” says Roth. “There’s so much healing going on. Everyone, no matter where they are in life, share their stories with us and show that they have imperfections. That makes me want to be better because, dang, they’ve experienced things that I’ve experienced.”

Group members support each other in practical and emotional ways. “Every adversity I’ve had thrown at me, they’ve helped me through,” Roth says. “Sometimes it’s just showing care and concern. Or they can help you get your driver’s license back. Some days there are so many women there that we only get to check in, but that is still fulfilling. Because we all want to help the next person. What an ugly place I have been in — I don’t want to see others there.”

 

Emma Koski, public defender

Emma Koski joined the group as it started three years ago. At the time, founding judges Sara Grewing and Nicole Starr wanted to make life easier for women who have experienced barriers that led them into the court system. Since then, Koski says, the group has evolved to “being like a safe, supportive space of women who want to see each other succeed and to recognize the struggles that we’ve all been through. We recognize that we can relate to each other more than we ever thought we could.”

One woman wondered “why would these important people want to sit in a room with me?” After being involved, Koski says, the woman realized that everyone struggles with work, time management, and parenting. “I think she’s gained confidence knowing that other people care. It’s important that women know there are people in all fields, including judges and prosecutors, who want to see them do well. We don’t all want everyone to be locked up, which I think for some of them is a surprise. It’s helpful to understand that a judge wants to see you out in the community.”

Koski says the experience of this connection has made her a better public defender. She has also benefited personally from the group. She has otherwise tended to be guarded — not realizing people will listen if she needs support. “One of the great things is that we can take off our work hat and just put on our human hat. We’re an extended family now — the kids all hug you when you arrive.”

Maria Mitchell, Ramsey County judge

As a previous public defender for 15 years, and a volunteer, Maria Mitchell understands some of the issues facing people who appear for trials and sentencing in her courtroom. She is involved with the group because otherwise she is not consistently talking to people about issues on the street and the barriers getting in their way.

“Being in this group keeps me grounded,” Mitchell says. “I have learned about the capacity to reinvent self from the women in the group. I started reading about indigenous healing of self from emotional trauma, and that has become my main goal. It feeds my spirit to learn how to be more restorative. If you are invested in the community, then you are not going to want to harm the community.”

She says the justice system is not yet capable of doing restorative work. “There is an epidemic of loneliness, and that is when you often make bad choices,” Mitchell says. “You want to be around people who are encouraging and make you know that you matter. Even though not everything [that comes out of group] is good, it is refreshing to see positive things when you see so much negative all week. I want to make change, and being in court doesn’t necessarily fulfill that for me.”

Mitchell says the key for many participants in the group is to learn how to be vulnerable and “talk about hard stuff and process it so it doesn’t come out sideways. Healing, in my mind, is the root of everything. We all have generational trauma, including family members suffering from alcoholism and physical abuse. I have seen in court more than five people who saw their mother murdered in front of them — that has lasting impact on them.”

Lyndsey Olson, city attorney

As the Saint Paul city attorney, Lyndsey Olson is the chief prosecutor who discusses high-level cases with her team and builds programs that include “how we think about our role of prosecution, how we think about justice and our mission.”

One program, Ethos, is a restorative justice program that connects people who have committed crimes and people who have experienced trauma. “I think it’s our duty as prosecutors to help people come full circle after they commit crimes, and particularly with misdemeanors — we’re not talking about folks who are committing violent felonies. A lot of times our folks don’t need jail. They need trauma healing, reintegration, community support, and wraparound services in order to be successful.”

Olson shares information and resources in the group, such as how to find an attorney in another state to respond to a warrant. “Just being able to say, ‘Here’s what you do, and I can provide a resource to contact,’ is helpful. It might otherwise cost $450 to find an answer to a simple question.”

She acknowledges that the group is about much more than sharing information.“We acknowledge that we have very different experiences because of age, race, our socioeconomic status, our job, our justice-involved past — but we all have things that bond us as human beings and as women. That is genuinely shared in a very raw way.”

The group has grown quickly because people bring others who are working on staying sober, getting into housing, finding a job, wanting to get an education.

“There are amazing stories of transformations. I feel fed by the group. I take joy in their success. Many of them are extremely brave and strong and amazing individuals that have done a lot of work. It’s inspiring.”

The group uses the Seeking Safety curriculum to help shape conversations. It can be stressful for participants to open up about heavy topics such as addictions and trauma in a group setting. When she is tapped as facilitator, Olson sometimes uses light-hearted prompts, such as a session when she asked everyone to share a song that uplifts or gives them a sense of connection.

“I talked about how music affects your brain, how it feeds you, why that is, and how it connects your emotions,” Olson says. “We played bits of the songs people mentioned. It can be a happy minute to bond with people and not talk about the most traumatic thing that happened to you. People need that too.”

 

Lessons to Share

One of the growing pains the group is figuring out is how to accommodate a growing number of people and help them feel safe. “So many of the women that have been incarcerated are there because of unhealed trauma,” Mitchell says. “It would be nice to heal trauma before they are involved in the justice system. Healing from this group is primarily about simply being in community with others, but we’re not therapists.”

The group has offered tapping and breathing exercises for healing, cosmetic cleansing as self-care, and housing assistance. Two guest speakers included someone from a domestic abuse shelter and a female police chief who talked about individual safety plans and taught self-defense. A judge brought in her sister, who taught CPR. After a woman witnessed an overdose on the train, Ramsey County chemical health people came in to talk about and give out Narcan. Others have talked about what good therapy looks like and how to advocate for the care you need. Members of the group have been directed to WomenVenture and Propel for Nonprofits to try to create a paid peer-to-peer network.

What helps the strength of the group, Mitchell says, is having consistent justice-involved people and volunteers. Ten people are on a planning email to help facilitate the conversations. One to two people moderate each evening’s conversation on a rotating basis. A prosecutor orders food, which is served to make sure there is enough for everyone. Someone in the public defender’s office does the bookkeeping. Mitchell keeps a suitcase of age-appropriate activities in her car for child care, which could range from 1–16 kids. Roth organizes a summer picnic.

The director of Ramsey County Community Corrections, Monica Long, strongly believes in the group to give people options to break cycles that prevent them from leading safe and supported lives. Says Mitchell, “We started off with money from a racial equity fund in the county manager’s office. After that ran out, Monica made room in her budget so we can give participants a hot meal and gift cards.”

The group requires that people check in and stay the whole time. Says Olson, “We want everyone to respect the people that want to get something out of it. We want people to be part of the conversation and meet others.”

Participants do not all live in Ramsey County, since many women have to find less expensive living options elsewhere. One woman drives two hours each way to be in the group.

Olson adds that it is important that everyone participates on a level playing field.

“We’re not there for the same reasons, but we’re all talking about our day. It helps create the bond and trust. I’m the city attorney, but I am not there on a different level, the way it feels in court. We are together in a circle — all just women and human beings talking.”

 

---

To help us continue our coverage of transformative justice, please support us as a Badass member: