Stranger everywhere

Women who have served time in Russian prisons often end up back behind bars. Nobody helps them when they are free

According to data for 2017, Russia was in third place in the world in terms of the number of women in colonies and prisons: now there are about 40 thousand of them. Almost two-thirds of them have been convicted more than once: former prisoners often do not understand how to adapt to ordinary life, and soon find themselves behind bars again. This is especially true for women convicted under the “people's” Article 228 of the Criminal Code, which provides punishment for drug-related crimes. At the request of Kholod, Sasha Graf, an employee of the Consortium of Women's Non-Governmental Organizations, who works a lot with women in prisons, talks about how their lives turn out after the colony - and why they often turn out badly.

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It's either prison or the grave

The first time Ella (she asked not to give her last name) went to prison because of drugs was in 2000 - then she was 14 years old, and after several months spent in a pre-trial detention center, the charges against her were dropped and released. By that time, her relationship with her family was almost completely damaged - and, once free, Ella began using drugs again: this time hard and intravenously. When she turned 18, she was detained again, but now she was convicted and given five years in prison for drug possession. Already when Ella was taken to the colony, she was found to have HIV.

At 23, she was released and found that she had nowhere to live. At the age of 18, already in prison, she changed her passport and, at the request of her mother, checked out of the family apartment. Her mother refused to register Ella with her new passport.

Sociologist Tatyana Dvornikova, who studied the features of post-prison adaptation of women in Russia, explains that convicted women are more likely to face stigmatization than men. “Men who have done time are much more common, so they are less surprising, although they remain marginalized,” she says. — Women make up only 8% of prisoners; they are perceived as “black sheep.” And in the absolute majority they try to hide their criminal record [in everyday life].”

However, hiding a criminal record may not be so easy. When Ella tried to get a job, she was not hired precisely because of her prison past. The girl turned to old drug-using friends for help - and in their company she met a man with whom she started an affair. Together they stole to buy drugs, and in 2018 Ella was caught red-handed. However, the girl remained free: as she says, a report was drawn up against her, but that was all (Kholod was unable to confirm this information).

Two years later, Ella discovered that she was pregnant and decided to quit drugs for the sake of her unborn child. She began to experience withdrawal symptoms, but did not know where to turn for help, and so, in her fifth month of pregnancy, she went to the police, saying that a theft case had been opened against her. According to her, this is how she wanted to get rid of her addiction and cut off contacts with her company. “I called [the child’s father] and said, well, so and so, I’m in a pre-trial detention center, pregnant with your child, my sentence is short - a year and a half,” says Ella. “He wished me luck and our conversation ended.”

When the girl was released with her son, who was less than a year old at the time, no one met her. According to Natalya Kostina, director of the “Lend Your Hand” foundation, which has been helping women in pre-trial detention centers and colonies since 2014, this is a common situation in such cases: “Most often, as practice shows, men want to move on with their lives and shrug it off. It’s easier for them to close their eyes and move on.”

Ella found shelter in Rostov-on-Don: local Protestants invited her to live in a crisis center at their church (“Kholod” could not clarify its name) . She agreed because there was no choice: “Either prison or a grave.” Now she has a roof over her head and food, Ella is on antiretroviral therapy and no longer uses drugs. According to her, Ella is now preparing to convert to a new denomination.

Ella’s story is quite typical - women who have served time in prison, when released, are often left to their own devices. There are no state rehabilitation centers in Russia that specialize in helping former prisoners. Their function is taken over by private initiatives that see their tasks differently. Crisis centers at various religious organizations are one of the possible options. However, it is impossible to find in the public domain lists of rules for living in such centers, as well as rehabilitation mechanisms. What exactly should help a woman return to society in each specific case is unknown, and it is impossible to assess the effectiveness of resocialization.

In addition to religious centers, there are so-called work houses. Their owners provide housing and food, and in return require former prisoners to work. Most of the money raised goes towards maintaining the center. This concept is not much different from the work of convicts in colonies.

There are very few centers that are not tied to ideology and exploitation. One of them is called “Choice” and is located in Perm. Its leader, Anna Kargapoltseva, believes that they often try to make a “finished product” out of former prisoners that will suit the leaders of the organization, correspond to their religion, and ideas about the norm. In her work, Kargapoltseva adheres to another principle - to help with adaptation and leave the right of choice to the ward: “Women must learn to make decisions themselves. After all, a colony deprives you of the opportunity to think independently. We need to start small: which dress to choose - red or white, what to eat today - dumplings or salad.”

Apathy and confusion

When Ksenia Kravchenko was 17 years old, she entered the architectural academy in her native Taganrog - as she dreamed of, having been interested in drawing since childhood. That's when she tried drugs for the first time. When the girl was in her third year, her brother died of a sudden heart attack, and Kravchenko became depressed. “I decided to move [from Taganrog] to Moscow and start all over again, I found a job in an architectural bureau,” she says. “But quitting drugs didn’t work out as I planned.” Two years later, she was arrested in Moscow for selling amphetamine and sent to a penal colony in the Stavropol Territory for five years.

Kravchenko was lucky: her family did not turn away from her. “My mother came from Taganrog to Moscow for all the court hearings, and brought me huge parcels to the colony,” she says. In addition, the colony administration, having learned that she was a professional architect, sent Kravchenko to work in an art workshop: she made wall newspapers, painted icons and paintings for prison competitions, and designed costumes for productions with the participation of prisoners. “We had a lot of events, and I did a lot of my own free will, because I liked it,” recalls Kravchenko. “For example, I painted a wall in our hairdressing salon.”

Kravchenko’s mother regularly came on dates with her daughter and brought her gifts. “I remember she came to me on New Year’s Eve,” the girl recalls. “They took me into a room, and she apparently went out to smoke.” There were bottles of vanilla cola on the table. Her fur coat lay on the bed. I hugged this fur coat, it smelled like my mother’s perfume. It was just something indescribable."

Three and a half years later, Kravchenko was released on parole - and she went home to Taganrog. The mother tried to help her adapt - for example, she gave her a puppy so that her daughter could walk and get used to freedom. But even so, returning to normal life was difficult for Kravchenko. “It seemed to me that I was a stranger everywhere, that they didn’t understand me,” she says. “I was constantly waiting for calls from my friend who remained in the colony. I felt like a character in a computer game, where I was moved from one location to another, and I don’t know what to do. The apathy was strong. A young man appeared, but even with him I felt lonely. We eventually broke up." Now Kravchenko lives in her parents’ house in Taganrog, paints paintings to order and waits for the release of the girl with whom she managed to become friends in the colony.

Director of the “Lend Your Hand” Foundation Natalya Kostina confirms: even when relatives support former prisoners, when they are free they are completely at a loss. They have no one to talk to, they don’t know which store to go to, and they’re afraid to cross the road. Essentially, they have to relearn the world around them - and at the same time they develop a social stigma that largely determines their new life. In such circumstances, women often return to the same addictions that landed them in prison. Kravchenko’s story is one of the rare examples of successful adaptation: when a family fully devotes itself to supporting a former prisoner and helping her fully return to society.

No mechanisms other than criminal prosecution

“Not a single colony in Russia has programs for rehabilitation and recovery from drug addiction,” says Yana Leontyeva, who works at the Andrei Rylkov Foundation, which helps drug users. “There are themed hours where they talk about how drugs are terrible, that everyone hates drug addicts, but they don’t offer people any ways to solve the problem.” Leontyeva knows what she’s talking about: 10 years ago, she herself ended up in a colony under Article 228 - and since then she has not seen any positive changes in how the state conducts drug prevention in prisons - or helps those released not to return to their addictions.

“Judges themselves often don’t know what to do with those who go under Art. 228 of the Criminal Code: “Well, we’ll close him for a while, he’ll have a break there and come to his senses,” adds Maxim Malyshev, program coordinator of the Rylkov Foundation. “We have no other mechanisms other than criminal prosecution.” Over the years in a colony, people do not acquire new ways to cope with external and internal sources of stress. “They end up going back to drugs.” According to statistics , most people released from Russian prisons soon find themselves under investigation again.

By law, after a colony, released prisoners have the right to state assistance, but in practice, this assistance - for example, social housing - often has to wait for years. And when it is given, it often turns out to be unsuitable for normal life. When Anna Kotelnitskaya was released from a colony settlement in the Perm Territory in 2021, she had nowhere to go - and the administration of the city of Kizel offered her a place in a dormitory. “There are 60 apartments in our entrance, six of them are residential, the rest are empty,” Kotelnitskaya described her new house. — I live alone in the wing on this floor. How much shit I had! Just a mountain of garbage. There are no doors. The bathroom is black. At first I thought the apartment was on fire. There was no hot water or heating.”

In January 2022, the Ministry of Justice introduced a bill on a probation system , which involves the social adaptation of former prisoners; it should soon be submitted to the government. However, human rights activists criticize the ministry’s proposals: they believe that probation cannot be entrusted to the Correction Service, and in addition, the law does not stipulate in any way a mechanism for monitoring how the FSIN will carry out new functions. According to Doctor of Sociological Sciences Iskander Yasaev, such probation is likely to turn into another supervision mechanism: the system will continue to monitor a person who has already served his sentence, instead of helping him avoid going to prison again.

Sofya Ilyina (name changed at the request of the heroine) was convicted of drug possession in her youth. After serving time, she managed to return to life in freedom - she got married and gave birth to two sons. At first she didn’t tell her husband about her past, and when she made up her mind, he announced that he would divorce her. The court gave the children to their father, and he moved with them to another city, turning them against their mother.

“After my husband’s betrayal, my heart was filled with such pain that it is very difficult to express it in words,” Ilyina writes in letters from the colony. “When you walk into an empty house where children’s laughter once sounded... I didn’t find any other way to forget about what happened except to return to drugs.” In 2018, she was caught stealing and was jailed again. She is currently serving time in a colony in the Kemerovo region; The woman should be released in 2026. Her husband doesn’t write or call her. Sophia doesn’t know what her grown sons look like.

List of organizations you can contact for help:

Help for victims of domestic violence in Moscow - Nasiliyu.net

Legal and humanitarian assistance to prisoners and their families – Social movement “Sitting Russia”

Help for women in the colony and their children – “Reach Your Hand” Foundation

Hotline for victims of domestic violence - ANNA Center

Free lawyers and advocates to protect the rights of victims of domestic violence throughout Russia - Consortium of Women's Non-Governmental Organizations
Helping homeless people in Moscow and St. Petersburg – Nochlezhka Foundation