University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Every space counts: how ex-prisoners with mental illnesses navigate public space and interactions in everyday life

(USC Thesis Other)

Every space counts: how ex-prisoners with mental illnesses navigate public space and interactions in everyday life

PDF

Download

Open document

Flip pages

Download a page range

Download transcript

Copy asset link

Request this asset

Transcript (if available)

Content 1

Every Space Counts: How Ex-Prisoners with Mental Illnesses Navigate Public Space and
Interactions in Everyday Life

Liat S. Kriegel, MSW

August 2017 Degree Conferral
Doctor of Philosophy (Social Work)
Graduate School
University of Southern California

Dissertation Guidance Committee
Benjamin Henwood, PhD (Chair)
Lawrence Palinkas, PhD
Elyn Saks, PhD

2
Table of Contents
List of Figures and Tables ............................................................................................................... 4
Dedication ....................................................................................................................................... 5
Acknowledgements ......................................................................................................................... 7
Abstract ........................................................................................................................................... 9
Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................. 10
Significance ............................................................................................................................. 13
Prisoner Reentry of Individuals with Mental Illness ........................................................ 13
Social Integration of Ex-Prisoners with Mental Illnesses ................................................. 15
Public Space Challenges and Possibilities ........................................................................ 19
Interactions, Relations, and Stigma in Public Space ......................................................... 21
Conceptual Framework ........................................................................................................... 25
Public and Private Spaces ................................................................................................. 25
Ontological Security ......................................................................................................... 26
Research Questions ................................................................................................................. 28
Chapter 2: Research Design and Methods .................................................................................... 31
Research Design Overview ..................................................................................................... 31
Recruitment and Inclusion Criteria ......................................................................................... 33
Data Collection Procedures ..................................................................................................... 34
Self-Report Interview Protocol (see Appendix B) ............................................................ 35
Semistructured Interview with Community Mapping (see Appendix C) ......................... 36
Go-Along Interviews ........................................................................................................ 37
Analytic Approach .................................................................................................................. 39
Chapter 3: Public Landscape of Reentry ...................................................................................... 44
Sample Descriptives ................................................................................................................ 44
City Descriptives ..................................................................................................................... 50
Types and Uses of Public Space ............................................................................................. 52
New Haven Green (see Figure 3) ...................................................................................... 53
New Haven Free Public Library (Ives Main Branch) ....................................................... 60
Fellowship Place ............................................................................................................... 62
Coffee Shops ..................................................................................................................... 64
Other Spaces ..................................................................................................................... 65
Temporality of Public Spaces ................................................................................................. 66
Moving among Spaces by Walking Around ..................................................................... 67
Seasonal Changes in Space ............................................................................................... 69
Ontological Security in Public Space ..................................................................................... 71
Participatory Mapping Structure and Organization ................................................................ 77
Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 80
Chapter 4: Between Intimacy and Isolation: The Role of Public Space Interactions ................... 81
Carceral Identities and Transformations of Self ..................................................................... 81
Benefits and Burdens of Intimate Relationships ..................................................................... 87
Benefits of Intimacy .......................................................................................................... 87
Burden of Intimacy ........................................................................................................... 90
Risks of Reciprocity .......................................................................................................... 93
Public Space Interactions during Reentry ............................................................................... 96
3
Limits of Public Space Interactions ................................................................................ 104
Familiar and Intimate Stranger Support ................................................................................ 105
Intimate Stranger Support ............................................................................................... 106
Familiar Stranger Support ............................................................................................... 109
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................ 115
Chapter 5: Discussion, Implications, and Conclusions ............................................................... 117
Discussion ............................................................................................................................. 117
Social Work Implications ..................................................................................................... 127
Limitations ............................................................................................................................ 131
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................ 132
Bibliography ............................................................................................................................... 134
Appendix A: Informed Consent Form ........................................................................................ 150
Appendix B: Self-Report Interview Protocol ............................................................................. 154
Appendix C: Semistructured Interview and Community Mapping Guide ................................. 160

4
List of Figures and Tables
Figure 1: Data Collection Procedures ........................................................................................... 35
Table 1: Coding Template ............................................................................................................ 41
Table 2: Demographic Characteristics (N = 36) ........................................................................... 46
Table 3: Reentry Period (Less than 3 Years) ................................................................................ 48
Table 4: Reentry Period (More than 5 Years) ............................................................................... 49
Figure 2: Map of Yale with New Haven Green ............................................................................ 52
Figure 3: The New Haven Green .................................................................................................. 54
Figure 4: Grant’s Map (Risk Zones) ............................................................................................. 79
Figure 5: Jackie’s Map and Amos’ Map (Routines) ..................................................................... 79
Figure 6: DeMarcus’s Map and Chris’s Map (Artistic Depiction) ............................................... 80
Figure 7: Public Space Interaction Narrative Arc ....................................................................... 124

Running head: EVERY SPACE COUNTS 5
Dedication
To my grandparents. To my Grandfather Alter, whom I never met, but whose legacy as a
civil rights activist and social justice advocate is seared into my consciousness. To my Grandma
Ida, whose fierce independence and creative spirit inspire my every decision. To my Saba, whose
courage to fight pushes my willingness to take risks. And finally, to my Savta, who passed away
only a few months before I began this journey. My greatest challenge after I lost her was learning
to believe in myself as fiercely as she believed in me. She survived a holocaust that stripped her
of her childhood and her family, but she never lost hope for a better and more just world for her
children and grandchildren. I will always carry that hope in my heart.
To Ema and Aba, who raised me to be kind, to resist injustice, and to recognize humanity
especially when others fail to. To Tamir and Elan, who challenge me to think critically and
remind me every day that my value is not limited because I am their sister and a woman, but
rather strengthened by it.
To Michael, who walks through public space with me every day and gives every
interaction with a stranger a chance because he see humanity in every person he meets. He
challenges me to think harder and supports me when I think I can’t. He also read this entire
dissertation, which is quite a feat.
To the DeLand and Messe families, who welcomed me with open arms and an open
heart.
To all my friends (from nursery school to the doctoral program), who give me joy and
support. Especially to Rohini, Lisa, Anthony, and Liz, who paved the way in the doctoral
program and reminded me to live my life and laugh, and Jessush and Avivush, who are the twin
pillars on whom I stand (to paraphrase Rory, another “person” I should be thanking).
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 6
To my spleen: I gave you away to science ten years ago today. Now science is giving me
this degree. Full circle.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 7
Acknowledgements
I want to acknowledge and thank the many people who have carried me through my
research career thus far.
Dr. Ben Henwood: I’m not really sure I can say in words the impact your mentorship has
had on my doctoral career. You gave me space to grow, to be creative, to think big, but also
carefully reined me in when I went too far. You let me color outside the lines, but reminded me
to stay on the paper. My dissertation, and my joy writing it, is a direct result of your mentorship.
Thank you.
Dr. Elyn Saks: You always seem to have a handle on the singular idea that can make or
break a study. Thank you for your intellectual guidance and financial support through the Saks
Institute for Mental Health Law, Policy, and Ethics.
Dr. Lawrence Palinkas: Your support and attention to detail ensured this dissertation
would be the best version of itself. Thank you for your willingness to come on board a little late
in the game, but with no less commitment than someone who had been there from the start.
Dr. John Brekke: You helped me grow in this program on my own terms and in my own
time. Thank you.
Dr. Jeffrey Draine and Dr. Amy Blank Wilson: You introduced me to research and then
taught me to use research as a form of resistance. Your lessons shape every decision I make in
this field.
Dr. Julie Cederbaum: You implanted the idea to pursue a PhD. It took me five years to
hear you, but now I’m here. Thank you for a decade’s worth of support and guidance.
Dr. Michael Rowe, Patty Benedict, Dr. Annie Harper, Billy Bromage, Dr. Chyrell
Bellamy, and the CCC team: Your work is inspirational and I am forever grateful to you all for
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 8
your willingness to bring me on board. You are all the light in a dark world for so many people
who live because you give.
And especially to Bridgett Williamson: Your relationship to public space might be the
reason I have a dissertation and your kindness is the reason I have a friend.
And of course, to the men and women who gave me their time and trusted me with their
stories, thank you. I appreciate you.
I appreciate all of you.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 9
Abstract
Prisoners with mental illness are released from prison into environments wherein they are
undertreated and undersupported by our criminal justice, social service, and health systems.
Public space and the interactions in those spaces have been shown to have positive effects in
other similar populations, including individuals with mental illness. This qualitative study aimed
to understand which kinds of connections and spaces have greater capacity to increase or reduce
recidivism, hamper or strengthen community integration, encourage or offset social isolation,
and influence a sense of ontological security. I recruited 36 ex-prisoners with mental illness and
conducted semistructured baseline interviews during which I asked them about both their
experiences of public spaces and their interactions in these spaces. Participants were asked to
draw maps of their communities and identify public spaces. They identified both spaces of
inclusion and exclusion and interactions in those spaces. Ethnographic fieldwork was conducted
as a follow-up to these interviews with a subsample of 11 participants to identify and describe
public spaces and interactions in those spaces. Phenomenological and template analyses were
used to analyze the collected data. Participants described an array of public and private spaces in
which they spent time and reconstructed their identities during reentry. In these spaces,
participants fostered supportive relationships with intimate and familiar strangers. This form of
“stranger support” was juxtaposed against the burdens and risks of reciprocal intimate
relationships. Public space and public space interactions can provide support streams to
counterbalance the more complex and mixed support of intimate relationships. Providers might
consider the utility of familiar and intimate strangers in helping clients to navigate these
sometimes risky but potentially fruitful spaces.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 10
Chapter 1: Introduction
Prisoners with mental illness are released from prison into environments wherein they are
undertreated and undersupported by our criminal justice, social service, and health systems. The
success of reentry in the United States is so tenuous that it is often measured by its failure
through recidivism. The recidivism rate in the United States hovers around 70% within 3 years of
release from prison (Durose, Cooper, & Snyder, 2014). This number is even higher among ex-
prisoners who also have mental illnesses (Baillargeon, Binswanger, Penn, Williams, & Murray,
2009; Cloyes, Wong, Latimer, & Abarca, 2010)—reflecting a deep-seated disintegration of
social and spatial connections and a futile reentry process. This disintegration leaves ex-prisoners
feeling unsupported and insecure as they reenter their communities.
This research explored the public space experiences of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses
as they seek to reestablish themselves in their communities. Interventions for ex-prisoners with
mental illnesses often rely on social networks established in private spaces, including family and
friends and treatment providers, to provide both resources and social capital and to support
needed social integration (Draine & Herman, 2007; Pettus-Davis, Howard, Roberts-Lewis, &
Scheyett, 2011). For some good reasons, these networks tend to encompass the person’s most
familiar and regular relationships that take place in private, bounded places like homes and
treatment centers. These relationships are often longstanding and present the greatest opportunity
for ongoing support. But such relationships have limits as well. These networks, especially for
ex-prisoners with mental illnesses, tend to be disproportionately small and exhausted (Davis &
Brekke, 2013; Skeem, Louden, Manchak, Vidal, & Haddad, 2009). Also, family and friends may
have encouraged criminal activity in the first place or may hold onto a stigmatizing image of the
ex-prisoner. For these reasons, understanding the formation of new ties and new networks is
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 11
essential. Public space provides opportunities to explore unconventional sources of security.
Interactions in public can contribute to some of the fundamental elements of ontological security,
including social environment constancy and identity construction. In this study, I explored
relationships and interactions in public space with the idea that more fluid social settings could
provide a critical opportunity for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses to form new ties, embrace
other identities, and create constancy and control in public spaces that may also be home spaces.
Public space, which can be defined as a space that is widely accessible, even if privately
owned, can facilitate a spectrum of opportunities—both good and bad. Public space can present
opportunities to reengage in risky behaviors or criminal activity. It can be a space of risk and
exclusion, of drug deals and gang dispute. This is public space as often researched. Yet public
space and the interactions in those spaces have also been shown to have positive effects in other
similar populations, including individuals with mental illness (Fields, 2011; Kloos & Townley,
2011). Public space interactions can both ground a sense of community belonging and permit
identity reinvention on the outside (Cattell, Dines, Gesler, & Curtis, 2008; Francis, Giles-Corti,
Wood, & Knuiman, 2012). Unlike private space, where a person is known and his or her identity
is formed (e.g., an ex-prisoner with a mental illness), public space permits freer identity
construction. Although private spaces (e.g., home, work, or treatment facilities) can facilitate
comfort with known others in isolation, they also may serve to tie ex-prisoners with mental
illnesses to identities they hope to escape. Public spaces, on the other hand, can potentially offer
value as places where people live relatively anonymously. They can present an opportunity for
people to introduce themselves outside of established networks and stigmatized identities
(Oldenburg, 1989).
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 12
This opportunity emerges through situated interactions with the unknown, the hardly
known, familiar strangers, and acquaintances encountered in public spaces (Lofland, 1998;
Milgram, 1977; Morrill, Snow, & White, 2005). These familiar faces, although sometimes
acknowledged in community integration literature, are rarely explored as meaningful sources of
identity or capital for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses. Though sometimes less welcoming,
exclusive, and risky for individuals who are leaving prison, these interactions can also be
stepping-stones toward community reintegration. After a long absence, neighborhood
acknowledgement through fleeting encounters (e.g., a head nod at the park where you spend time
or name recognition at the deli where you buy your coffee) can be meaningful. Although the
impacts of just one fleeting interaction might seem trivial, over time these interactions may breed
a sense of community and social integration. They announce a measure of belonging and
potentiate relationships that can provide support, capital, and security. Public space interactions,
however, are also fluid, unpredictable, and fleeting. As a result, the challenge of understanding
their import for community reintegration is in large part methodological.
This study explored public space and how public spaces and the interactions within
influence both ontological security and social isolation for individuals with mental illness leaving
prison. Thirty-six men and women with histories of mental illness and incarceration were
interviewed about their experiences of public space and social isolation. A subsample of 11
participants was additionally shadowed for 1 year to understand more fully the experiences of
public space and public space interactions. The goal of the study was to understand whether
public spaces and interactions in those spaces could offset the experiences of social isolation and
contribute to the social integration of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses and how public spaces
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 13
and public space interactions fit into the reentry narrative, particularly for individuals with
mental illnesses.
Significance
Prisoner Reentry of Individuals with Mental Illness
Despite efforts to change the reentry landscape, research continues to demonstrate a
pattern of futility for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses. The United States has a striking
incarceration rate, with nearly 1 in every 35 adult citizens under some form of criminal justice
supervision (Glaze & Herberman, 2013). Prisons and jails in particular disproportionately house
vulnerable populations, including men and women with mental illnesses (Steadman, Osher,
Robbins, Case, & Samuels, 2009). Of those incarcerated, 14% to 17% have a serious mental
illness, which is 3 to 6 times the rate in the general population (Prins, 2011; Steadman et al.,
2009).
In the United States, ex-prisoners are often caught in a cycle of criminalization and
recidivism. This cycle is perpetuated by structurally limiting policies that generate and normalize
stigmas for a class of undereducated, underemployed, underpaid, and disenfranchised men and
women (Mauer & Chesney-Lind, 2002; Roberts, 2004; Uggen, Manza, & Behrens, 2004).
Research has shown that individuals with mental illnesses are more vulnerable to this cycle and
they experience both incarceration and reentry unequally. Ex-prisoners with mental illnesses
have longer incarceration stays, lower likelihood of attaining and maintaining community
supervision as a condition of early release, higher rates of recidivism, and shorter community
tenures than ex-prisoners without mental illness (Prins, 2011; Skeem, Manchak, & Peterson,
2011). Further, compared to other ex-prisoners, ex-prisoners with mental illnesses have higher
rates of recidivism, homelessness, substance use, and general medical problems (Cuddeback,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 14
Scheyett, Pettus-Davis, & Morrissey, 2010; James & Glaze, 2006; Roman & Travis, 2004;
Solomon Waul, Van Ness, & Travis, 2004). Rates of recidivism are even higher among ex-
prisoners with dual diagnoses (i.e., a mental illness and substance abuse disorder) as compared to
ex-prisoners with one diagnosis or none (Castillo & Alarid, 2011; Wilson, Draine, Hadley,
Metraux, & Evans, 2011). Despite these inequities and the prevalence of mental illness in the
criminal justice system, catered discharge planning for prisoners with mental illness is both
sporadic and inconsistent, which affects the reentry process (Draine, Wolff, Jacoby, Hartwell, &
Duclos, 2005).
The overrepresentation and undertreatment of prisoners with mental illnesses in addition
to the discontinuity of care after release necessitate reentry interventions. Existing interventions
are often resource-based or “connecting” interventions that are vulnerable to a general dearth of
services in most spaces of need (Epperson et al., 2014). Forensic Assertive Community
Treatment, Forensic Intensive Case Management, and Critical Time Intervention are among the
more notable interventions adapted to the needs of forensic populations and provide reentry
services for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses in the community.
The effectiveness of these modified interventions, although often variants of evidence-
based practices, is not well researched. Recent systemized reviews of extant literature suggest
that although these interventions might achieve specific positive outcomes, there are significant
limitations in the studies and analyses of the interventions (Martin, Dorken, Wamboldt, &
Wooten, 2012; Skeem et al., 2011). Barrenger and Draine (2013) pointed to ways in which
connecting interventions can be more or less successful depending on certain aspects of the
community context. If the intervention operates in an especially risky environment, its impact
may be diminished.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 15
This is particularly relevant to ex-prisoners in public space because research has shown
that prisoner reentry is a concentrated phenomenon. Ex-prisoners do not disperse, but rather they
tend to leave and return to the same communities. Travis, Solomon, and Waul (2001) cited
expansive research demonstrating that a large volume of individuals return to a small number of
disadvantaged urban neighborhoods. Community context can shape public space in this way. For
men and women who live in concentrated social disadvantage, public space might be more
resistant to positive and integrative encounters.
Social Integration of Ex-Prisoners with Mental Illnesses
Wong and Solomon (2002) defined community integration as a three-pronged process
that includes physical, psychological, and social components. Integration includes the degree to
which a person participates in (i.e., social), feels a part of (i.e., psychological), and exists (i.e.,
physical) in a community. Community tends to encompass familiar support networks, treatment
programs, and the geographic boundaries of neighborhoods, but is not strictly or standardly
defined, despite its fundamental role in community integration (Wong, Sands, & Solomon, 2010;
Yanos, Felton, Tsemberis, & Frye, 2007). Social integration, as one element of community
integration, can also include different aspects of each of these components, although traditionally
it is solely characterized by the social component (Wong, Matejkowski, & Lee, 2011). Ware,
Hopper, Tugenberg, Dickey, and Fisher (2007) redefined social integration as an integration
process that although distinct from the community integration experience, encompasses social
iterations of the psychological, physical, and social components through citizenship and
community belonging. Rowe, Kloos, Chinman, Davidson, and Cross (2001) also introduced an
alternative to traditional social integration conceptualizations through citizenship, which they
defined as the strength of an individual’s connection to rights, roles, responsibilities, resources,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 16
and relationships. These alternative definitions provide a window into some of the conceptual
areas of need in the process of social integration—areas that are less often highlighted in the
operationalizations of community and social integration.
One response to the difficulty in operationalizing community integration is to focus on
the challenges and failures inherent in the process, including effects of forced isolation, stigmas,
and structural barriers enacted at different levels. One intentional element of incarceration is the
forced separation of prisoners from their communities. This structural isolation and the
subsequent punishment is particularly incongruent with the needs of individuals with mental
illness, as evidenced by research on the unique effects of social isolation, solitary confinement,
and institutionalization (Brandt, 2012; Kupers, 2006; O’Keefe, 2007; Rotter, McQuistion,
Broner, & Steinbacher, 2005). Ex-prisoners with mental illnesses experience additional
challenges during the social integration process because of community perceptions of mental
illness and the subsequent isolation of individuals who symptomatically express their mental
illness in ways not congruent with social norms (Feldman & Crandall, 2007; Goffman, 1963;
Hartwell, 2004).
Social integration can also include the range of invisible punishments that ex-prisoners
with mental illnesses experience on a daily basis. Prohibitive policies can tacitly restrict an
individual with an incarceration history from attaining gainful employment and welfare and
participating in civil activities, including voting and civic engagement (Travis, 2002; Uggen et
al., 2004). Although these particular social features of reentry are not interpersonal, they fortify
participation and engagement, which social integration and citizenship theories hold to be
tantamount to social exchanges in offsetting social isolation.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 17
A common empirical operationalization of social integration involves social networks
and their attributes, including social capital and social support. Social networks describe who is
in a person’s network of social contacts. Social capital is a function of social networks in that it
characterizes the social resourcefulness of the network (Lin, 2001). Social support, on the other
hand, speaks more specifically to the functions performed by social network members and a
person’s subjective experience of them (Valente, 2010). Prisoners with and without mental
illnesses have small networks of nonincarcerated family and friends and few visitations, which
have been associated with likelihood of rearrest (Bales & Mears, 2008; Skeem et al., 2009). Size
and composition of social networks have been shown to be associated with rearrest, probation
violations, and HIV risk behaviors (Davis & Brekke, 2013; Kriegel, Hsu, & Wenzel, 2015;
Skeem et al., 2009). Social support provided by these networks during incarceration is associated
with a higher quality of life for prisoners with serious mental illnesses (Jacoby & Kozie-Peak,
1997). Positive social support has been found to ease community reintegration for prisoners with
and without mental illnesses (Hochstetler, DeLisi, & Pratt, 2010). Smaller networks and strained
relationships through physical separation, however, often mean that support capital, including
treatment and housing support, is not available during reentry (Skeem et al., 2009). Social
support and social and support capital are often limited by the reciprocal nature of relationships
between ex-prisoners and their network members. Ex-prisoners might have intention to
reciprocate support and generally contribute good to their communities, but lack the resources to
actually reciprocate tangible support (Barrenger & Draine, 2013; Maruna, 2001). Martinez and
Christian (2008) found that family and friends who provide informational and instrument support
to recently released prisoners expect similar support in return.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 18
These traditional measures of community and social integration provide critical insight
into the process of reentry of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses. They can help researchers
conceptualize elements of relationships that have contributive value and elements that are more
detrimental. However, the literature focusing specifically on the social networks of ex-prisoners
often conflates these social network characteristics (e.g., network size and composition, social
support, and social capital), which has resulted in an uneven understanding of social experiences
of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses. As an example, although the significance of social capital
and social support in the process of reentry is clear, less is known about actual network size and
composition.
These measures also suffer the delimiting consequences of simplification and
categorization. Social networks, as measured, tend to focus more on familiar and regular
relationships and less on stranger interactions and acquaintanceships that are more fleeting. In
addition, measurements of social dimensions like support and capital are static (i.e., a person
provides a certain amount of support or does not), despite the dynamism of social interaction. In
other words, what is known about social integration of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses is
based on the reduction of fluid interactions and relationships to static measures of networks and
supports. The measures themselves lack the more fleeting dimensions of social interaction.
Social interactions are often situated in broadly defined or undefined communities. These
too often vague definitions narrow the reaches of any given community structure and isolate
communities in a larger society (or larger community) from one another. This study took
exception to two consequences of the common tendencies of community integration as
traditionally explored: (a) predefining communities as treatment communities or neighborhoods
means data are at the behest of researchers and not participants and (b) setting community
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 19
boundaries excludes, or at best minimizes, the shared space between and the fluid boundaries of
bordered communities (e.g., sidewalks and streets, library steps, etc.). This study employed
participatory measures, including community mapping, to execute a more inclusive study of
integration and prisoner reentry.
Public Space Challenges and Possibilities
Much of the existing mental health and criminal justice literature has focused on the
dangers and pitfalls of public space (Barrenger & Draine, 2013; Beckett & Herbert, 2010; Dear
& Wolch, 1987; Mears, Wang, Hay, & Bales, 2008). In the United States, Dear and Wolch
(1987) identified landscapes of despair, or “service-dependent ghettos,” following
deinstitutionalization for individuals with mental illness. Service-dependent ghettos also exist
among ex-prisoners, who leave and return to the same deprived neighborhoods. These ghettos
perpetuate social isolation of individuals with mental illness and histories of incarceration from
mainstream society.
Treatment programs attempt to offset social isolation and provide inlets into integration
through treatment communities (Pinfold, 2000). Rather than enhanced community integration,
however, we see a shift toward “program citizenship,” in which participants feel integrated in
their treatment communities, but not the general community (Rowe & Pelletier, 2012). This shift
can, in part, be explained by the corruption and privatization of public space. As green spaces
become less user-friendly to homeless individuals and neighborhoods engage in practices of
restricted access, public space research becomes less about utility and more about exclusion
(Mitchell, 1995). Even among police officers working in marginalized spaces, community
integration is defined primarily by recovery and rehabilitation, perpetuating a treatment culture
and program citizenship (Stuart, 2014). The tendency toward studying public space exclusion,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 20
although empirically grounded, results in a failed opportunity to consider the routine, everyday
features of public space. These features, when explored, can provide a glimpse into the daily
lives of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses as they meet the practical challenges of life on the
outside.
The value of public space is particularly relevant for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses,
because of combined social stigma and social isolation. Research has pointed to the lingering
significance of these spaces despite legalized exclusionary tactics that attempt to curate the
public space experience (Stuart, 2014). Ex-prisoners often suffer at the hand of legalized
methods of “cleaning up” public space. Qualitative research has pointed to use of public space as
a social arena as a primary reason for order violations (Beckett & Herbert, 2010; Stuart, 2014).
Beckett and Herbert (2010) found ex-prisoners with exclusion orders often violated these orders
because the spaces provided necessary social contact and were the only places participants felt at
home. One critical implication of that study is that despite exclusionary tactics, ex-prisoners
experience a degree of integration in these spaces and rely on their presence to sustain social
relationships.
Researchers have also explored terms of negotiation with different spaces (e.g.,
neighborhoods) and spatial dynamics of experience (e.g., mental health geography, Marxist
geography) in discussions of public space and community integration. In his critique of mental
health geography, Yanos (2007) called for the consideration of effects of place on mental health.
Townley, Kloos, and Wright (2009) quickly heeded his call with new place-based methods for
conceptualization and measurement of community integration.
Subsequent research demonstrated a significant relationship among neighborhood
experiences, neighborhood social climate, and psychiatric distress and the spatial dynamics of
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 21
community integration for individuals with mental illness (Fields, 2011; Kloos & Townley,
2011). The experience of place and its relationship to reentry is also a feature of recent literature
(Beckett & Herbert, 2010; Leverentz, 2010). Leverentz (2010) found that female ex-prisoners
reframed their neighborhood contexts to align with their needs, which highlights the critical role
place plays in creating an integrative environment for ex-prisoners. Individuals set back by a
social disadvantage ultimately seek ways to create a sense of community and an experience of
belonging in public and shared spaces.
Interactions, Relations, and Stigma in Public Space
Public space potentiates interactions with strangers, many of which are routine despite
the anonymity of their participants. The relationships derived from these interactions are often
characterized as acquaintances and familiar strangers (Lofland, 1998; Milgram, 1977). They can
provide nontraditional types of support and can heighten a sense of community belonging by
combining a “feeling of good will with a feeling of no personal responsibility about our private
affairs” (Jacobs, 1961, p. 60). Jacobs’ (1961) assessment of public space interactions provides
the foundational “bits and pieces” of community belonging for ex-prisoners with mental
illnesses. She referenced a fundamental trust that can exist among neighbors. Ex-prisoners are
often designated less trustworthy because of past criminal activity or unpredictable mental health
symptoms. These public space interactions can engender the trust often withheld by network
members who know ex-prisoners’ stigmatizing identities. Both trust and belonging can drive a
person’s desire to contribute to the community and desist from crime (Burnett & Maruna, 2006).
Some scholars counter this rosier view of public space interactions with the “urban
interaction problem” (Duneier & Molotch, 1999; Gardner, 1995). Strangers in power struggles
can employ “interactional vandalism,” in which individuals break conventions in public space
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 22
and make others feel unsettled and unsafe (Anderson, 2011; Duneier & Molotch, 1999). Both
positive and negative public space interactions demonstrate the range of public space interactions
and ring true to the fundamental dynamism of relationships in general.
Positive fleeting exchanges, similar to Jacobs’ (1961) initial description and Duneier’s
(1999) later ethnography, can also provide value because in a space in which anonymity is
sustained, a multistigmatized individual like an ex-prisoner with a mental illness can both
acknowledge and be acknowledged (Henning & Lieberg, 1996). Sociologists and anthropologists
have studied a variety of spaces and places in which a diverse range of people gather.
Restaurants (Duneier, 1992), laundromats (Kenen, 1982), bars (Cavan, 1966), dog parks (Robins,
Sanders, & Cahill, 1991; Wolch & Rowe, 1992), clothing stores (Wiseman, 1979), public parks
(DeLand, 2014; Jacobs, 1961; Low, Taplin, & Scheld, 2005), and street corners (Anderson,
1978; Duneier, 1999) have all been shown to accommodate positive, communal, and sometimes
fleeting interactions. Nonetheless, although the diverse array of people who populate these places
and spaces can integrate into a charming community, the possibility of tension is ever present.
This is particularly true when considering the social inclusion of individuals who have socially
nonnormative characteristics and are consequently stigmatized. Existing sociological research
has failed to suggest practical and concrete ways in which the integrative capacity of public
space can be extended to those experiencing stigma and institutional disenfranchisement.
Individuals with incarceration histories are marked by their criminality. Their offenses
can linger well beyond an incarceration despite pretenses of rehabilitation efforts. The genesis of
rehabilitation involved the “restoration of [a] person’s reputation and full citizenship” (Maruna,
2014, p. 125)—not treatment by program or behavioral modification it seems to currently
emblematize. Rehabilitation today, particularly as enacted by the criminal justice and social
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 23
service systems, propagates the idea that a person needs to change to integrate without
considering the impact of a tarnished reputation or lingering stigma. In fact, an individual can
rehabilitate by current standards and still experience the “burden of irreversibility” (Arendt,
1958, p. 213). An individual, despite for his or her wrongdoing and serving time, is forevermore
an ex-prisoner.
Goffman (1963) talked about stigma as visible or concealable. An incarceration history
can be concealed in a setting of superficial and anonymous interaction. The presence of a serious
mental illness, however, can be quite visible. This is especially evident as a consequence of
antipsychotic medication side effects and untreated symptoms like psychosis (Bellamy, 2005;
Rüsch, Angermeyer, & Corrigan, 2005). In addition, mental illness can incite a desire for social
distance among individuals who do not have mental illnesses (Baumann, 2007; Link, Phelan,
Bresnahan, Stueve, & Pescosolido, 1999). Ex-prisoners with mental illnesses, in this way,
experience a particularly difficult obstacle. They are at least doubly marked and their integration
is challenged by their excessive otherness.
Public space interactions, however, can provide a positive integrative experience for
individuals with multiple stigmas. As Jacobs (1961) noted, they do not require substantive
investment. In addition to Jacobs’ observations, public space interactions generally exist on a
superficial plane (at least initially). These interactions do not necessarily subsist on identity
disclosures, which means an ex-prisoner with mental illness can present a preferred version of
self (e.g., an artist, athlete, etc.). That said, the superficiality of these interactions should not
discount the consequent impact on participants. For those who live with institutionalized stigma,
fleeting public space interactions may, in fact, provide a deep sense of comfort and belonging.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 24
Further, given ex-prisoners with mental illnesses have smaller networks, public encounters may
have a relatively heightened impact on their well-being.
Mental health researchers have acknowledged the value of social contact in public space
(Townley, Miller, & Kloos, 2013; Wieland, Rosenstock, Kelsey, Ganguli, & Wisniewski, 2007).
Leyden (2003) cited neighborhood design as enabling or disabling social interaction in his work
on built environment. Spontaneous interactions between familiar strangers are, in part, a function
of the built environment, and the consequence of its presence can be particularly meaningful in
creating a sense of trust and belonging. A recent study of distal support, or “weak ties”
(Granovetter, 1973), found that distal support provides tangible support and can help predict
community integration among individuals with mental illness (Townley et al., 2013). This
research helps frame the usefulness of public space interactions, although the methods and
definition are rather limiting. The study used a measure that defined distal supports in the same
way as proximal supports and by the same support delineations (i.e., emotional, tangible, and
informational support; Wieland et al., 2007), which prevents our understanding of broad-based
differences between the two. As an example, the study found tangible support to be the primary
type of support provided by distal support, despite past indicators of a spectrum of emotional and
tangible support inherent in public space interactions (Jacobs, 1961; Duneier, 1999).
In addition, by exploring distal support rather than distal interactions, or familiar
strangers, past research has statically defined the product of a relationship or the type of support
and capital the relationship offers (Granovetter, 1973; Townley et al., 2013; Wieland et al.,
2007). Interactions with familiar strangers can momentarily be proximal given the right setting.
Familiar strangers can become intimate suppliers of emotional support given an environment of
less familiar or stranger interactions. The dynamic nature of public space relationships is best
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 25
described in Jacobs’ (1961) exploration of sidewalk interactions, in which she identified the sum
of casual public contact as a “a feeling for the public identity of people, a web of public respect
and trust, and a resource in time of personal or neighborhood need” (p. 56). These unique
interactions are the substance of community integration, weaving together public identity and
private need.
Conceptual Framework
This study drew on multiple frameworks to conceptualize experiences of space and
interactions in space among ex-prisoners with mental illness. For this study, I drew on Lofland’s
(1973) fluidity of space and Oldenburg’s (1989) third place as frameworks for understanding
public space as a social space. These definitional frameworks inform a greater understanding of
how public space and community integration intersect. The study also drew on the concept of
ontological security to ground the experiences of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses in public
space.
Public and Private Spaces
Public space is generally regarded as space that is publicly used, or open and accessible
to all with no entry fee, despite elements of limited use (e.g., libraries are public, although you
need a card for a book loan; Neal, 2010). Access, however, operates as a continuum rather than
as a binary distinction. A bar is only publicly accessible to those over 21 years of age (or those
with a convincing ID card). Public restrooms generally exclude exactly half the population. And
many other public places require certain forms of normative and civic behavior (Goffman, 1963).
Although public space exists, in many ways, as a complement to private space, their
relationship can be rather fluid. Depending on knowledge of particular public places, people may
develop a sense of personal intimacy in public. In general, people develop privacy in public by
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 26
forming little groupings that tacitly exclude random passersby. This form of privacy can range
from the most fleeting encounters to “home territories,” in which people develop strong
communal attachments to particular public places that become a “home away from home”
(Lofland, 1973, p. 119).
Oldenburg (1989) introduced the concept of a third place. Third places include spaces
that invite regular, voluntary, and informal gatherings outside of home and work whose purpose
includes primarily the enjoyment of another’s company. This study employed the term public
space as a derivative of public use in alignment with Oldenburg’s definition of third places.
More importantly, this study was framed by Lofland’s (1973) characterization of public and
private spaces as subjective and shaped by an individual’s perception of the privacy or
publicness of interactions in space.
The relationship between public space and community integration, though understudied,
is not novel. Environmental psychologists, in particular, have explored the relationship between
public space and sense of community (Cattell et al., 2008; Francis et al., 2012). Francis and
colleagues (2012) drew on socioecological frameworks to conceptualize the relationship between
public space and sense of community and found that presence of quality public space was
associated with a sense of community. Other research explored welcoming public space, or
therapeutic landscapes, which has been found to be beneficial to the physical, mental, and
emotional well-being of individuals (Cattell et al., 2008; Gesler, 1992; Williams, 1999). This
study drew on the findings of these past studies as a framework for pursuing public space and its
interactions as a potentially beneficial resource for ex-prisoners with mental illnesses.
Ontological Security
Ontological security is simply the security of being, of existence. In his conceptual
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 27
introduction, Laing (1969) suggested that reliability of identity and autonomy engender the key
elements of this type of security. Giddens (1991) added that the experience of ontological
security also encompasses the constancy of social and material environments in such a way that
an individual can sustain control and intuit meaning. Both conceptualizations draw on a
fundamental “confidence and trust in the world as it appears to be” (Dupuis & Thorns, 1998, p.
27). The most prevalent and organic manifestation of this type of security is in the subjective
experience of feeling at home (Dupuis & Thorns, 1998; Hiscock, Kearns, MacIntyre, & Ellaway,
2001; Padgett, 2007). When achieved, home, however defined, is a space of constancy and
reliability.
This study specifically drew on the methods and framework of Padgett’s (2007) study of
ontological security of individuals with serious mental illness. Her study presented the
phenomenological experience of home as a dynamic process rather than a static process. To
honor that distinction, Padgett (2007) sought to understand how participants experienced,
enacted, and described having a home and the extent to which those experiences reflected
ontological security markers—finding that ontological security markers were experienced by
participants who lived in their own apartments. This study asked similar questions, though it is
differentiated by an exploration of ontological security in public spaces and whether markers can
be achieved in those spaces. The markers of ontological security identified by Dupuis and
Thorns (1998) in their study of home and used in Padgett’s (2007) study include: (a) a space
featuring constancy in the social and material environment; (b) a space for the routine, quotidian,
and daily activities of living; (c) a space where individuals sustain control and are liberated from
the control of others (e.g., surveillance); and (d) a space that permits identity construction. An
aim of this study was to map onto Padgett’s (2007) findings and understand whether, in the
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 28
presence of a home, ex-prisoners with mental illnesses can also experience ontological security
in public spaces. In the presence of ontological security markers, the study further questioned
whether this type of security can help us understand experiences of isolation and integration.
Despite exclusionary tactics and negative interactions with space, there are indicators that
certain public spaces can provide minimally housed and otherwise vulnerable populations a
homelike environment. In their study of banishment and exclusion as control practices, Beckett
and Herbert (2010) quoted a participant:
Them are the blocks that you walk around and keep your feet warm, or hustle, whether
you panhandle, whether you wash windows, or whatever it is. That’s where you live.
That’s your home, downtown. So, I mean, and a lot of times what they consider to be a
dope area is not a dope area. You know it might be a place where a few smokers go
smoke, or, um, but that’s it. But it’s your home too. (p. 20)
Public spaces, where unpredictability is a constant, are often depicted as the antithesis of
home. We often characterize public space and private space as dialectical; private space
engenders home and public space is shared, open, and belongs to everyone so as to become not
home. The experience of this ex-prisoner, however, suggests a distinctly private element of
public space, one that Lofland (1973) aptly described as “home territories” and a “home away
from home” (p. 119). In the spirit of Lofland’s conceptualization of public and private space, I
hypothesized that ontological security can be enacted in public space in part because the routine
and familiar nature of public space interactions can create a home away from home.
Research Questions
This study elaborated on the conception and use of public space and the different types of
connections people make in those spaces. It also explored in more detail the kinds of connections
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 29
and spaces that have greater capacity to increase or reduce recidivism, hamper or strengthen
community integration, encourage or offset social isolation, and influence a sense of ontological
security. Using both the literature review and conceptual framework, I asked three primary
research questions and a subset of key questions derived primarily from existing literature:
1. How do ex-prisoners with mental illnesses experience, enact, and describe public
space and interactions in those spaces?
2. To what extent does public space facilitate or offset social isolation among ex-
prisoners with mental illnesses?
3. To what extent do these experiences reflect indicators of ontological security?
Although the literature supports the proposition that public space can present an
opportunity for community integration, it also points to the barriers of space because reentry is
concentrated in a smaller number of urban areas. Ex-prisoners with mental illnesses suffer the
consequences of returning to known neighborhoods with known acquaintances. This can mean a
number of things. First, ex-prisoners are returning to communities and networks that potentially
facilitated their criminal behavior. Second, although cities are large, the actual geography of
lived experience can be much smaller, which means ex-prisoners are, in fact, known to
individuals in their community’s public and private spaces. This can prevent anonymity
sustained in less dense, more privileged communities.
To address these limitations, several key questions were considered during the data
collection and analysis process:
1. Does the cycle between the same community or neighborhood and institution prevent
anonymity and consequently, identity reinvention?
2. How are the experiences of anonymity and stigma related?
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 30
3. To what extent are ex-prisoners with mental illnesses afforded the trust embedded in
Jacobs’ (1961) account of public space interactions?

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 31
Chapter 2: Research Design and Methods
Research Design Overview
Thirty-six ex-prisoners with mental illnesses were recruited through local mental health
and reentry programs in New Haven, Connecticut. Each person participated in a face-to-face
interview that involved a demographic survey, social isolation measure, an open-ended
qualitative interview, and a participatory mapping component—each of which is described here
in more detail. Ethnographic shadowing and go-along interviews were employed with a
subsample of participants to observe how the participants identified and described public spaces
and interactions in those spaces beyond the scope of their initial interviews. Although the
original intention was to conduct go-along interviews with a select and focused subsample of
individuals who scored highest and lowest in social isolation, the tendency of participants to
hang out in similar places and interact with one another resulted in data collection that was
overlapping and more ethnographic in nature. Go-along interviews with identified participants
often included regular interactions with other study participants such that the original go-along
subsample grew from six participants to 11 during the course of fieldwork. Three of the
participants captured in ethnographic fieldwork fell among the top five scores and another two
were among the bottom five scores of the social isolation measure. The remaining participants
reported more average social isolation, which is to say their scores were relatively midrange and
hovered around 50 (the measure’s range is 20–80). In many ways, the baseline interviews
provided a backdrop to what became an ethnographic study of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses
in New Haven.
I aimed to understand whether public spaces and interactions in those spaces could offset
the experiences of social isolation and contribute to the social integration of ex-prisoners with
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 32
mental illnesses and how public space and public space interactions fit into the reentry narrative,
particularly for individuals with mental illnesses. The study elaborated on the conception and use
of public space and the different types of connections people make in those spaces. I explored
which kinds of connections and spaces had greater capacity to increase or reduce recidivism,
hamper or strengthen community integration, encourage or offset social isolation, and influence a
sense of ontological security.
The study itself was primarily qualitative, although it invoked quantitative measures
mostly for the purposes of sampling and convergence. Use of this type of mixed-methods
approach in both capacities has precedence in similar research (Palinkas, Horowitz,
Chamberlain, Hurlburt, & Landsverk, 2011). Convergence involves the triangulation of data and
in this case, use of qualitative data and quantitative data to complement each method’s strengths
and weaknesses. Use of these methods to inform sampling provided an opportunity to look at the
lived experience of public space and its interactions among people who experience different
levels of social isolation.
Qualitative methods were employed as the dominant method to accommodate the
exploratory nature of the study. To answer the three primary study questions, I first administered
a semistructured qualitative interview with sociodemographic and community-mapping
interview components. The interview included a measure of social isolation initially used to
recruit a subsample of participants for go-along interviews. Participants were asked to draw maps
of their communities and identify public spaces. During these interviews, participants were asked
to identify spaces of inclusion and exclusion, and I probed for interactions in those spaces.
I then conducted ethnographic shadowing and go-along interviews with a smaller sample
to systematically identify and explore the nature of public spaces that participants regularly visit
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 33
and interactions in those spaces. This phase of interviewing also permitted further exploration of
experiences of ontological security and the subset of key questions.
A benefit of including ethnographic methods is that it can guard against the inevitable
consequences of using predefined concepts, including community and public space. Any prior
clinical or research exposure to these terms might evoke a very specific response that excludes
public space and public space interactions. The use of ethnographic methods incorporated
experiences that traditionally exist outside the terms of these concepts.
Recruitment and Inclusion Criteria
The study included a respondent-driven sample of 36 individuals with incarceration
histories and mental health diagnoses and a purposive sample of 11 participants from that larger
sample in New Haven, Connecticut. New Haven is a mid-size pocket of postindustrial poverty in
the Northeastern United States. Initially, participants were recruited through community-based
referrals from mental health and reentry agencies in New Haven. Respondent-driven sampling
was subsequently used to identify a broader network of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses who
were not necessarily affiliated with a treatment or community program. Inclusion criteria
included: (a) released from prison during the prior 3 years or no incarceration for 5 or more
years; (b) incarceration of at least 1 year; (c) a mental health diagnosis; (d) adult status, i.e., at
least 18 years of age; (e) ability to speak English. The researcher sought a sample of participants
with both recent recollection of their reentry experiences (i.e., released during the prior 3 years)
and participants who demonstrated success in their reentry (i.e., individuals with histories of
prison incarceration who had not recidivated for 5 or more years). The aim in creating such a
variable sample was to understand whether patterns of behavior in public space were more
typical of successful reentry. A provider or known contact first vetted potential referrals for
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 34
interest. Interested referrals contacted the researcher. For potential participants who did not have
access to a phone, a time to meet was scheduled through the provider or contact. Once eligibility
was verified, the researcher explained the study to the prospective participant and answered any
questions. If the prospective participant expressed initial interest, a time was arranged to meet to
obtain consent to participate. Participants participated in a single consent process (see Appendix
A), in which the possibility of being recruited for a series of go-along interviews was both
introduced and elaborated. A participant could choose to not to participate in this second phase,
even after providing consent. The consent process took place prior to the baseline interview and
if after a thorough review and an opportunity to ask consent-related questions, they consented to
participate, the researcher began the baseline interview. One participant was not consented
because he did not demonstrate an understanding of the study after reviewing the consent form.
Participants received compensation for each phase of the study. Participants received $20 for
their participation in the baseline survey interview and $30 for their participation in each go-
along interview. To protect the confidentiality of all participants, data were deidentified and each
participant was assigned a pseudonym.
Data Collection Procedures
The study employed a primarily qualitative approach with quantitative methods for the
purposes of sampling and convergence (see Figure 1 for a procedural flowchart). More
specifically, the study used a combination of ethnographic shadowing, go-along interviews, a
social isolation measure, and community mapping interviews to explore the nature of public
space, public space interactions, and social integration of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses. All
interviews were audiotaped and subsequently transcribed.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 35
Figure 1: Data Collection Procedures
Self-Report Interview Protocol (see Appendix B)
Participants were asked to provide demographic information, including age, gender, race
and ethnicity, employment, housing, finances, religion, mental health history, substance use
history, and incarceration history. Substance use questions were adopted from the Vulnerability
Index Survey because of their brevity (Kanis, 2009). The survey also included a question asking
for the specification of drug or alcohol type used by participant. The interview protocol included
the 20-item Revised UCLA Loneliness Scale (Russell, Peplau, & Cutrona, 1980), which
demonstrated high internal consistency with an alpha coefficient of .94. Using social isolation
scores, we recruited a subsample from the baseline group for go-along interviews and
ethnographic shadowing. By intentional design, of the 11 participants who participated in the
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 36
ethnographic phase of the study, three were among the five highest scores and two were among
the five lowest scores. Some participants who were eligible because of their social isolation
scores were not ultimately included in the second phase because they could not be located or
contacted. In these cases, other participants who fell close to either the upper or lower range of
social isolation were contacted.
Semistructured Interview with Community Mapping (see Appendix C)
The researcher conducted semistructured baseline interviews with the larger sample of 36
ex-prisoners with mental illnesses immediately following the first interview protocol. The
qualitative portion focused broadly on experiences of community integration, focusing on
markers of ontological security (constancy, routine activities, control and surveillance, and
identity construction). At the end of the semistructured interview, participants participated in a
community mapping process. Community mapping was used to study place-based interactions
and include participant-driven descriptions of community spaces and icons (Parker, 2006).
Community mapping incorporates elements of inclusion, transparency, and empowerment and is
widely regarded as an action research method. The specific approach employed by the researcher
was introduced by Townley and colleagues (2009), who employed mapping to similarly study
communities of individuals with serious mental illness.
Participants received markers and a large sheet of paper on which to draw a map of
spaces where they spend time outside the home. The interviewer provided participants with the
following prompt:
Ok, now I’m going to ask you to draw a map of the places you mentioned so we can see
where they are in relation to one another. This might also help you think of additional
places where you spend your time that didn’t come up. Once you’re done I’ll have some
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 37
questions for you about the map. When creating the map, think about and include spaces
you often go to, spaces you feel are important, and spaces where you feel included and
excluded.
Once participants indicated they had completed their maps, the interviewer asked the
participants to identify the spaces they felt were most important, in which they spent the most
time, and in which they felt they belonged the most. Questions were also asked regarding the
completeness of the map, how participants get from place to place, and what participants do at
mapped spaces. Participants were also asked to describe people they typically see in the spaces
and the nature of their interactions. Two of the participants did not participate in the mapping
process. The first participant did not complete the interview. The second participant
demonstrated memory loss during the interview that affected his ability to recall places and
interactions required of the community mapping process. This participant, however, was part of
the ethnographic shadowing process, which enabled more complete understanding of his public
space experiences.
Go-Along Interviews
Taking a phenomenological approach, this study explored relations in public as an
ongoing interaction process rather than a static and variable outcome. This was achieved through
ethnographic shadowing and go-along interviews with 11 people. Phenomenological methods
favor smaller samples because of the depth and number of interviews (Padgett, 2012). Go-along
interviews combine interviews with ethnographic observations to explore participants’ stream of
experiences and practices as they interact with social and physical environments. During these
interviews, interviewers’ accompany individuals on their natural outings. Traditionally, go-along
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 38
interviews can include both walk-along interviews and ride-along interviews and are often about
90 minutes long (Kusenbach, 2003).
The go-along interviews were introduced to the participants as an opportunity to learn
about their typical day. During the course of the interviews, the interviewer sometimes followed
up on specific interactions and spaces mentioned during the initial interview. In the tradition of
naturalistic inquiry, participants identified the amount of time that made sense for each go-along
outing, within a range of 90 minutes to 4 hours. These interviews sometimes involved a degree
of ethnographic fieldwork beyond the scope of traditional go-along interviews. This generally
occurred when participants invited the researcher to an event (e.g., program graduation) or
meeting (e.g., community organizing meeting) or simply through encounters with participants at
various locations. Of the 11 participants shadowed during the course of 1 year, six participants
participated in multiple go-along interviews depending on their availability. All of the go-along
interview participants (i.e., Kelly, Matt, Patrice, DeMarcus, Grant, and Daisy) were shadowed
more than five times because they (a) proactively sought out the researcher during periods of
transition or simply because they were involved in an activity they described during the
interviews or (b) were present during another participant’s interview. The remaining five
participants were not identified for go-along interviews through their social isolation scores.
Rather, these participants were present during other go-along interviews or they ran into the
interviewer in public spaces. In both cases, the participants initiated interactions with the
interviewer. To protect the privacy of participants, the interviewer allowed participants to self-
disclose their participation to other participants, but never volunteered that information. In most
cases, go-along participants assumed recognition of other participants was a result of the
interviewer’s work with different mental health and criminal justice programs in New Haven
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 39
(and mentioned such to the interviewer during the course of the go-along interview). Only one
participant just acknowledged the interviewer without initiating further interaction. In this
situation, the interviewer observed the participant in space and the nature of his interactions, but
did not record the content of those interactions.
In the spirit of ethnographic data collection, the researcher developed relationships with
participants that often entailed regular communication and life updates and sometimes assistance
(e.g., helping participants move, giving them rides, etc.). This provided for more naturalistic
observations of participants’ public space experiences and interactions that were otherwise
difficult to identify or understand. Ethnographic data collection continued until the interviewer
had reached saturation with regard to the study questions. Following each go-along interview or
field outing, the interviewer recorded field notes describing the events and interactions of the
day. Go-along interviews were conducted with six participants, and an additional five individuals
were shadowed during those go-along interviews. In total, 11 participants were shadowed during
the course of 1 year.
Analytic Approach
A dual analytic approach was used to understand the lived experience of ex-prisoners
with mental illnesses in public spaces as a phenomenon and to explore the relationship between
ontological security markers and public space.
Because the study itself was exploratory in nature, it required a broad, less inhibited
analysis. I employed methods of phenomenological analysis to analyze interview transcripts and
field notes. Phenomenological analysis requires researchers to bracket bias and assumption in
favor of a phenomenon’s inherent essence (i.e., epoché; Husserl, 1931; Padgett, 2012). I first
became immersed in the 36 participant narratives by reviewing all interview transcripts, their
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 40
associated maps, and the 50 pages of field notes I recorded. I then developed narrative
summaries for each participant. Each narrative was developed around significant statements
invoked from the data through a process called horizontalization (Moustakas, 1994). I then
combined significant statements across interviews into themes or clusters of meaning (Cresswell,
2007). The narrative summaries, which were developed following horizontalization and thematic
analyses, were composed of a textural description (or a synopsis of what participants
experience); a structural description (or a synopsis of how participants experience; e.g.,
conditions, contexts, and situations); and finally a summary of major themes, or the essential,
invariant structure (essence of the experience; Cresswell, 2007; Moustakas, 1994). This
phenomenological analysis resulted in 36 narrative summaries with invoked statements and an
initial set of themes and subthemes. This method of analysis permitted a broad exploration of
public space as a phenomenon in the reentry of ex-prisoners with mental illnesses.
To account for markers of ontological security, a template analytic approach was used to
frame the investigation of experiences of ontological security in public space following the initial
phase of phenomenological analysis (Crabtree & Miller, 1999). Template analysis is particularly
useful when using an existing conceptual framework because it allows for the use of a priori
codes. In this case, I used the findings of the phenomenological analysis and the research
questions informing the study to develop a preliminary code list. These transcripts were
subsequently analyzed with a focus on experiences of public space and ontological security.
These codes were used to explore how and if ontological security was experienced in public
spaces or if this type of security was reserved for private and home spaces. A priori codes
included four markers of ontological security (i.e., constancy, routine activities, control and
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 41
surveillance, and identity construction) and public and private space, reentry process, and social
interactions.
Two researchers co-coded a subset of the transcripts using the a priori codes. During their
initial analyses, they marked any additional themes not reflected in the codebook. Codes were
modified and dispensed during the transcript immersion process to reflect the actual data. Once
the researchers agreed on a set of codes, a coding template was created and hierarchically
organized into broader themes and subthemes (see Table 1). The researchers then coded two
transcripts each with the template and met to systematically address any discrepancies during the
analytic process (King, 1998). This process included treating descriptives, like reentry period and
demographics, as analytic axes. Constant comparative analysis using memo writing was used
during the coding process to systematically identify similarities and differences across all
interview sources, including the community mapping interview and go-along interviews (Strauss
& Corbin, 1994). To guard against researcher bias, I returned to the New Haven community to
discuss my findings with a social worker, a community organizer, and a person with lived
experience who also worked as a peer in a local reentry program. All three of these community
members were actively involved in programs helping individuals with serious mental illnesses
and incarceration histories professionally, personally, or both. These conversations helped to
both elucidate some unclear findings and confirm conclusions drawn from the data.
Table 1: Coding Template
Theme Definition
Public space
Types and uses of public space The different types identified by participants
and the ways in which they used those spaces
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 42
Movement through public space “Walking around” public space as a way of
hanging out
Variability of public space The different ways participants structured and
organized their maps and elements that affect
which spaces they used
Ontological security in public space
Constancy Spaces wherein participants experienced
constancy in the social and material
environment
Routine activities Spaces for the routine, quotidian, and daily
activities of living
Control and surveillance Spaces wherein participants could sustain
control and were liberated from the control of
others (e.g., surveillance)
Identity construction Spaces wherein participants felt they could
participate in identity construction
Reentry process
Carceral identities and transformation of self How the criminal justice system facilitated
stigmatized identities and the ways participants
coped with those assigned identities
Intimate social relationships
Benefits of intimacy Support and security provided through intimate
relationships
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 43
Burdens of intimacy Risk and burden of intimate relationships
(often linked to past risky or criminal
behaviors)
Risks of reciprocity Accrued debt or obligations of immediate
reciprocity in intimate relationships
Public space interactions
Familiar stranger support Strangers with whom participants regularly
and exclusively interacted with in public
spaces, who provided tangible and emotional
support without expectations of reciprocity;
these relationships could be two sided, but not
exclusively so
Intimate stranger support Known strangers (like providers, volunteers,
and probation officers) who were familiar with
personal characteristics of the participants and
provided non-reciprocal support; these
relationships were exclusively one sided

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 44
Chapter 3: Public Landscape of Reentry
Participants in the study spoke extensively of public space and how it affected their day-
to-day lives. They engaged these spaces for both practical and social purposes. Use of different
spaces was not merely accidental and haphazard, but rather planned and intentional. In this
chapter, I describe the sample and the city in which participants lived. I then explore the range of
public spaces as detailed in both my field observations and participants’ interviews. To do this, I
first introduce the types and uses of public spaces, then their temporality in participants’ lives,
and finally how participants built a sense of ontological security in public. The chapter closes
with a discussion of participants’ cognitive perceptions of the spaces in which they spent the
most time. Although public spaces shared common features and utility, participants understood
these spaces and their relationships to one another in vastly different ways.
Sample Descriptives
The final sample featured 36 participants (24 men, 12 women; 83% Black; see Table 2).
Twenty-four of the participants had been released during the prior 3 years, whereas the
remaining 12 had been out of prison for 5 or more years (see Tables 3 and 4). A great deal of
variability existed among participants in each group. Some interviews occurred mere days after
release and others were closer to the 3-year mark. A majority of the recent releasees, however,
were interviewed within 1 year of release. A typical prison sentence in Connecticut is connected
to a probation sentence to be served after release. Though these data were not systematically
collected, many of the newly released participants indicated they were on probation during their
interviews. Like time in the community, time served varied among participants. An eligibility
criterion was that participants served at least 1 year in prison. Only two participants (Matt and
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 45
Chris) served only 1 year. In their lifetime, participants served between 1 and 40 years in prison
and jail (average time served was 10.7 years).
A majority of participants reported diagnoses of schizophrenia, schizoaffective, or bipolar
disorders or some combination. A majority also reported histories of substance abuse. The group
of newly released participants differed significantly from those who had been out longer in their
reports of past hospitalizations and emergency room (ER) visits for psychiatric or emotional
problems, t(11.6) = -2.4, p < .05; t(12.4) = -2.3, p < .05, respectively. Participants who had been
out longer reported more hospitalizations (M = 23.5, SD = 28.6) and ER visits (M = 12.3, SD =
13.8) than participants who had just been released (M = 3.1, SD = 7.0; M = 2.7, SD = 4.9,
respectively).
Although the sample was rather well educated (11 participants had either graduated high
school or earned their GED and 14 had completed some college or earned an associate or
vocational degree), participants were also underemployed. Only seven participants reported
being currently employed, five of whom had been out of prison for at least 5 years. Of the 36
participants, nine were homeless at the time of their interview. Eight of the nine homeless
participants were released during the prior 3 years. Only one homeless participant had been out
for more than 5 years. A large majority of the sample had been homeless at some point in their
lives (n = 28), a fact that was often connected to their narratives of public space. Even if
participants indicated that they preferred private or home spaces, they would talk about past
experiences of belonging to certain public spaces (usually parks) during their periods of
homelessness.
The mean social isolation score for the entire sample was 50, which is the midrange score
for the measure. The score in the more recently incarcerated sample (n = 24) was 51, whereas the
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 46
sample of participants who had been out for at least 5 years (n = 12) had a slightly lower mean
score of 47, although this difference was not statistically significant. Although these scores
provide some insight into the social isolation experiences of participants in the study, the
measure sometimes evoked longer and more descriptive answers. For example, Kelly qualified
her responses by invoking the impact of homelessness on her social life and Andre invoked his
recent release as a reason to start his social life from scratch. In other words, social isolation
scores, although drawn from a valid and reliable measure, were couched in more nuanced and
complex social experiences that were evidenced more clearly during the qualitative interviews.
Andre, whose social isolation score indicated greater isolation, may have been projecting less a
sense of social isolation and more a desire to separate himself from a life that led to his
incarceration. Similarly, Kelly, whose score also indicated greater isolation, went on to transition
into permanent housing from her transient tent life, which affected her relationships and social
interactions.
Table 2: Demographic Characteristics (N = 36)
Variable % or M (SD)
Time since incarceration
Within recent 3 years 24 (67%)
5 years or more 12 (33%)
Age (at baseline) 47 (7.5)
Gender
Male 24 (67%)
Female 12 (33%)
Sexual orientation
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 47
Heterosexual 28 (78%)
Gay or lesbian 2 (8%)
Bisexual 5 (14%)
Race and ethnicity
White or Caucasian 3 (8%)
Black or African American 30 (83%)
Latino 6 (17%)
Native American 4 (11%)
Relationship status
Single (never married) 19 (47%)
Married 9 (25%)
Separated or divorced 8 (22%)
Widowed 1 (3%)
Significant other (not married) 10 (28%)
Have children 25 (69%)
Member of religious congregation 14 (39%)
Education
Less than high school 11 (31%)
High school graduate or GED 11 (31%)
Some college 11 (31%)
College graduate or more 3 (8%)
Homeless
Currently 9 (25%)
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 48
Ever 28 (78%)
Age at first arrest 18.9 (7)
Times arrested (lifetime) 17.4 (19)
Time incarcerated (years; lifetime) 10.7(8.6)
Mental health diagnosis (self-report)
Mood disorder 15 (44%)
Psychotic disorder 17 (47%)
Panic disorder or anxiety 3 (8%)
Posttraumatic stress disorder 6 (17%)
Age at first interaction with mental health professional 22.4 (12.7)
Times hospitalized (lifetime) 9.9 (19.6)
History of substance or alcohol abuse 27 (75%)
Social isolation 50 (8.5)
Table 3: Reentry Period (Less than 3 Years)
Pseudonym Time Incarcerated Social Isolation Shadowed
Randy 10 54 No
Kelly 10 58 Yes
Kareem 15 51 Yes
Maurice 40 37 No
Monique 4 41 No
DeMarcus 10 57 Yes
Grant 9 39 Yes
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 49
Nicholas 5 48 No
Luis 6 46 No
Chris 1 54 No
Richard 11 65 No
Patrice 10 66 Yes
Andre 17 56 No
Matt 1 40 Yes
Elvin 8 53 No
Clarence 20 57 No
Dru 30 43 No
Lawrence 9 54 Yes
Alice 3 56 Yes
Pauline 5 49 No
Amos 22 57 No
Pedro 10 60 No
Terrence 7 40 No
Reggie 3 53 No
Table 4: Reentry Period (More than 5 Years)
Pseudonym Time Incarcerated Social Isolation Shadowed
Daisy 15 56 Yes
Ray 28 55 Yes
Michelle 2 51 No
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 50
Geraldine 4 44 No
Sheila 4 53 No
Gary 12 42 No
Danny 12 53 No
Betty Anne 15 39 No
Hakeem 6 60 No
Jackie 6 47 Yes
Lamar 11 31 No
Angelica 4 36 No
City Descriptives
Participants in this study generally lived in the New Haven area of Connecticut (primarily
in New Haven, as opposed to the Greater New Haven area, which includes neighboring towns).
New Haven is a mid-size postindustrial pocket of poverty in the Northeastern United States
(population = 130,322; U.S. Census Bureau, 2015). It is also home to Yale University, an Ivy
League institution and the largest employer and taxpayer in the city (DeStefano & Murphy,
2013). Despite the university’s overwhelming presence, it has a fraught relationship with
unaffiliated city residents. This, in part, is manifest in the city’s income inequality and
neighborhood income segregation, both of which are notably worse in New Haven than the rest
of Connecticut and surrounding regions. In New Haven, the top 20% of households earns 6.5
times as much as the bottom 20% (Abraham & Buchanan, 2016). Similarly, the poverty rate of
low-income neighborhoods is 33%, compared to 3% in wealthy neighborhoods (Abraham &
Buchanan, 2016).
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 51
In other words, a vast sea of difference exists between those with and without in New
Haven. It is not uncommon for members of the Yale community to warn students and
newcomers against crossing the New Haven Green, the park situated in the center of downtown
New Haven and immediately adjacent to the university’s old campus (see Figure 2). Likewise,
city residents who are unaffiliated with the university often comment on the unfair privilege of
university affiliates (focusing primarily on academic affiliates like faculty members and
students). Participants in this study echoed this sentiment in their interviews. They often
referenced the dearth of local residents who attend the elite institution, the strained relationships
between staff members who are from impoverished New Haven neighborhoods and Yale
students and faculty members, and specific resources that are willingly supplied to the university
and not local neighborhoods. One participant referenced the prompt cleanup of a bedbug
problem in a dormitory as a dramatic contrast to the ongoing bedbug problem at the local shelter.
An observed manifestation of the strained relationship between Yale affiliates and New
Haven residents was the coffee shop scene. As subsequently detailed in this chapter, coffee shops
were a highly frequented public space among participants. Because of its university culture, the
city is densely populated with coffee shops, yet there very little overlap between coffee shops
frequented by participants in this study and those coffee shops that faculty members and students
used for socialization and studying. Notably, these coffee shops were often in very close
proximity (within a mile of each other). In this way, neighbors can sometimes live parallel lives
in New Haven, frequenting many of the same types of spaces without much opportunity for
direct interaction or encounters.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 52
Figure 2: Map of Yale with New Haven Green
Source: Council on Southeast Asia Studies (n.d.).
Types and Uses of Public Space
Participants in this study demonstrated somewhat tenuous and outright variable
relationships to public space. Some participants spoke of public spaces regarding their more
traditional utility—restaurants for a family dinner, the mall for small shopping sprees, the park
for a quiet stroll—whereas others repurposed public spaces to fit their immediate needs—outlets
at Dunkin’ Donuts for charging, WiFi internet access at Starbucks to scroll through Facebook,
computers at the library for job applications, park benches for daytime naps. Public space, in this
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 53
study, was largely connected to daily routines and hangout spaces beyond participants’ treatment
or home spaces. The following spaces were those mentioned most frequently by participants in
the study: the New Haven Green, the public library, Fellowship Place, and coffee shops. Also
included is a section on other spaces that were mentioned by many participants, although not
necessarily common to a majority of the participants.
New Haven Green (see Figure 3)
One of the main spaces described by all participants in the study was the New Haven
Green (more familiarly called the Green). As noted, the Green is situated in the middle of
downtown, adjacent to Yale University. New Haven’s original layout included nine squares with
the Green in the center of the grid (Blake, 1898). The Green, though privately owned by the
Committee of the Proprietors of Common and Undivided Lands at New Haven, is a public space
in a major way; access to the square is unrestricted and open to everyone (Ryan, 1998). It is a
historical landmark in New Haven as much as it is a public space.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 54
Figure 3: The New Haven Green
Its history is entrenched in the enslavement of Black people, which is all the more
significant given the role it plays for Black men and women in New Haven today. The Green
was used as and called the Marketplace for much of its history (Blake, 1898). Typical of similar
spaces along the East Coast, this marketplace was used for buying and selling slaves until 1825.
Also typical of its counterparts along the coast, the Green was used as the town burial plot until
the Grove Street Cemetery opened in 1821 (Blake, 1898). In 2012, a homeless woman
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 55
discovered bones uncovered by the massive thrusts of Superstorm Sandy (MacMillan & Bailey,
2012). This discovery stirred the city and colored the ways in which people talked about the
Green. While spending time on the Green, DeMarcus and a friend, Dave (an older Black
homeless man who sleeps and spends all his time on the Green), referenced this history:
At one point in our conversation, Dave and DeMarcus told me that bones were uncovered
a couple years ago on the Green because the Green had been a burial ground for slaves. I
later asked DeMarcus how he felt about Black men and women who are homeless
spending much of their time there given its history, to which he responded: “We never
think about it. We never talk about it.”
Although DeMarcus and Dave seemed to conflate pieces of the Green’s history in their retelling,
their passing regard for such an ominous background for the racialized experience of poverty and
incarceration was a revealing portrait of the everyday function of the Green in their lives. The
New Haven Green is both a political and historical space, but it has been redefined and woven
into the present and everyday experiences of those men and women who spend a majority of
their hours there.
The Green has no walls, gates, or closing time. Although representing only a subsection
of downtown New Haven, the Green was often conflated with downtown in general. When
participants shared that they hung out downtown or avoided downtown, in follow-up responses
they clarified that downtown did not actually include the bars, restaurants, and shops frequented
by members of Yale’s elite Ivy League community. For participants in this study, downtown was
very often synonymous with the New Haven Green. Temple Street runs through the middle of
the Green and that divider, in some ways, separates the quiet from the raucous. The raucous is
associated with the eastern half of the park (or the lower Green), whereas the western half (or the
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 56
upper Green) is situated closer to Yale’s campus and is typically perceived to be quieter. Many
participants, when mapping or introducing the Green, would mark certain areas that they
preferred. Some participants wholly avoided the Green.
For many participants in the study, the southeast portion of the lower Green was regarded
as the risky area. Kareem, for example, had been incarcerated for a violent crime he committed
near the crowded bus stop on that corner. Now he normally sets up shop with a shopping cart
near the bus stop to sell various items. I ran into him one day while I was shadowing DeMarcus.
On that day, Kareem had left his storefront (shopping cart) elsewhere, which was notable to
DeMarcus, who pointedly asked Kareem where the cart was. Kareem shared that he was waiting
to get new stuff: “It’s good for me to have a day off.” Kareem still hung out in the space,
however, with his presumed client base, who were scattered throughout the bus stop, chatting
with one another. Kareem’s business orientation was not unique, though unlike the other
individuals who were selling illegal merchandise and drugs, Kareem had applied for and
acquired a vendor license. According to DeMarcus, the usual men and women who hang out in
that spot “brought the business” there (selling loosies, or single cigarettes; xanies, or Xanax pills;
and other pills) to make it a neighborhood. As if to confirm the assertions of the many other
participants who described this sector of the Green as risky and filled with drunks and drug
users, DeMarcus stated, “You know what day it is, right? It’s November 3rd. November 1st to
3rd, people be gettin’ their checks. Everyone’s at a hotel today, doing drugs.”
Many of the individuals in the space were visibly under the influence. Some were
hunched over and passed out (Kareem shared confidently, “That’s benzo right there. He’s on
benzo,” referring to the class of psychoactive drugs known as benzodiazepines). Others were
falling asleep while standing (which DeMarcus later described as a hallmark of K2, or synthetic
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 57
marijuana). At one point, a woman scurried over to pick up a small piece of paper. Both Kareem
and DeMarcus were quick to point out that the paper was actually a bag of drugs. Though it was
unclear if Kareem had used substances prior to our interaction, he did still use—a fact he both
reported during the earlier interview and exhibited (and confirmed) during that same interview
by falling asleep while answering questions.
This area of the Green, the bus stop, was very rarely highlighted as a hangout space for
participants in the study. Participants generally emphasized that the Green was “just a bad
place;” as Alice put it, “lots of police and nowhere I want to be.” Amos said that he avoided that
corner of the Green because of “all the hustling that’s going on and the ebb and flow of things of
what people are into and how they go about making their ends meet for their own personal needs
and stuff.” Reggie similarly shared that although he sometimes hung out at the Green, he avoided
the lower Green “because it’s a lot of tramps and chaos and there’s a whole buncha mess there
all the time.” Monique described a more general avoidance of the Green because her program
discouraged spending time in the downtown park. In fact, she noted that although she often
passes the Green on her way to the library or Dunkin’ Donuts, she won’t walk through the Green
itself. Rich, who was homeless, said that he avoided the Green because if he went:
[I’d be more] apt to talk to people that are so to speak, excuse my language, fucked up.
And because they are homeless and they are a little bit more out there, you know what I
mean? I don’t want to be a part of that.
Terrence likewise said:
It’s kind of a culture within itself down here. There are a lot of drug fueled—it’s a drug-
fueled community. If they’re not out here selling marijuana or their pills, there’s drunks
and disorderly conduct going down here. … So it becomes a circus.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 58
Many of these same participants, however, found the upper Green (behind the churches)
to be peaceful, meditative, and more conducive to simple hangouts with friends. Amos indicated
that he would find “a nice secluded area” specifically “behind one of the historical churches.”
During a go-along interview, Kelly and Matt, who were in a relationship, shared their favorite
spot on the upper Green in the northwest corner, separated from the bus stop and drug market by
several large and stately churches. The couple would often meet at one of the benches in this area
of the Green, where Kelly would enjoy writing in her notebook. Kelly also explained that she
likes to “treasure hunt” in this area of the Green, something she also marked on her map. She
hunted for different types of treasures, including recyclables, dropped Starbucks cards, or any
other items with some monetary value. Her descriptions of this part of the Green detail a
somewhat fantastical version of the space, a version borne entirely of her perceptions and hopes
rather than the grim reality others described.
Interestingly, Amos noted that spending time on the upper Green “keeps [him] away from
everything” in spite of its proximity to riskier areas. Elvin didn’t necessarily indicate a
preference for one side of the Green or the other, but mentioned that he liked to sit, observe
others, and write at the Green. Unlike others who experienced the Green in often extreme terms
and as a reflection of extreme behaviors, Elvin saw the drug use and homelessness as a natural
feature of the setting:
I see a lot of people on Benzos, on pills. I see a lot of people smoking weed, selling
cigarettes, drinking beer … everybody’s doing their own thing, you know? … I see
them—sometimes I’ll be sitting next to someone doing something, but I’m minding my
business, he’s minding his, you know?
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 59
Clarence also thought of the Green in these less judgmental terms: “I’ll be on the Green. I mean
it’s peaceful, you can pick your spot as long as you’re doing the right thing.” Danny
characterized the Green as always an option:
I might just walk around a little bit around the Green, see who’s out, if I know anybody,
what it feels like, if people are looking or if anybody’s speaking or if it seems like a nice
atmosphere, everybody all right with everyone.
On rarer occasions, participants divided the Green from north to south rather than east to
west. Reggie, as example, specified the midsection of the upper Green as a space he would visit
to meditate. He described part of the Green closest to Elm Street and College Street as “more laid
back.” Pedro emphasized a strong preference for the northern section of the lower Green, closer
to the library.
During my time spent there, the upper Green, while rarely featuring the hustle and bustle
of the lower Green, had its share of more intimate troubles as compared to the more public and
communal drama of the bus stop. During my walk with DeMarcus, he and Dave, who was
homeless and spent time in both halves of the Green, talked about the number of people who use
K2 in the upper Green, a fact that validated some of my prior observations. It was not uncommon
to see police cars and ambulances parked in the middle of the upper Green, responding to
apparent overdoses.
Although participants’ relationships to the Green were mixed, they were constant. No
matter how participants related to the space, they all had some relation. In part because so many
bus lines converge at the Green, it proved to be a common thread in each participant’s daily path
through New Haven’s public landscape. Participants described the Green as almost uniformly
having a social rhythm that made it predictable and communal. While participants expressed
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 60
varying degrees of appreciation for the space itself, they all seemed to measure themselves in
relation to it.
New Haven Free Public Library (Ives Main Branch)
Perhaps the space second-most frequented by participants was the public library, which
sits across the street from the New Haven Green on the northeast side. The library, despite its
limited hours, functioned primarily as a hangout spot (not a space to read or borrow books or
even sit quietly). Although true for housed participants to a certain extent, the library—especially
on weekends and during the winter months when the Green was snowed over or too cold—was
especially useful for homeless participants when warming centers, shelters, and other day
programs were closed. Unlike coffee shops that could offer similar services, the library did not
have any type of a monetary fee for service (e.g., no requirement to buy something to use the
free WiFi). Many of the people who hung out on the Green visited the library during the course
of their day as well, such that spending time in certain parts of the library (e.g., the main sitting
area near the first floor stacks or the computer area downstairs) sometimes seemed like a better
heated and slightly quieter version of the park. This similarity rings true especially during the
wintertime, when benches on the Green are snowed over and paths are icy. As it warms, the
library serves a more utilitarian purpose: as a technology hub.
Some participants used the library for its computers or accessed the free WiFi on their
tablets and phones. DeMarcus, as an example, described the library as a space to “kill time.”
Unlike some other participants, one of the ways he did this was by reading books in the stacks.
But more than the books themselves, the library was largely attractive because of its central
location:
I can’t go too far because I travel by bus line, so I don’t want to miss my next group. So I’ll
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 61
do—I’ll find somewhere to go, just blow off some time. Like I’ll go the library. To get on
the computer. And I go on Facebook, and mess around on there for a little while, until it’s
time.
Grant likewise used the library for its computers, but his reasoning was a bit different. Because
he missed certain technological advances while incarcerated, he said he goes to the library to
“show myself how to work the computer.” During one of our go-along interviews, Grant also
used the computer at the library to look and apply for jobs. The library as a technological
resource was common and referenced by many participants even if their relationship to the
resource was not the primary part of their public space experience.
For some of the participants, the library was not merely a space to relax, escape the cold,
and be alone, but also a space to meet up and hang out with particular others. As an example,
Amos played pick-up chess games in the library. These games became a stable part of his life
such that his visits to the library were entirely informed by the game:
When I come, if there’s nobody here then I go over to the book section where they have
chess magazines at, and books and stuff. I’ll read a couple of books. If they’re trying to
teach me how to look at—how this master played this particular game, then I’ll grab the
pieces and I’ll set it up. I practice. I learn, I read, and I study. I really don’t try to wait for
a pick-up game. People are usually around in the afternoon, early evening part. So when I
come around, they’re here and stuff. They’re like, “Here comes the champ,” and stuff like
that.
For Amos, the library is a highly validating space, one in which he is positively known for
something other than his incarceration history or mental illness.
The social utility of the library existed year round, but it was especially popular as the
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 62
weather cooled down and outside spaces became less accessible. When I met with Matt at the
library on a rather cold day, he, Kelly, and Patrice were hanging out at a table in the stacks. Kelly
and Patrice easily removed themselves from our conversation to spend time with their friends
who were hanging out, just chatting at a different table. Participants in this study seemed to
define the library in a way that was substantively different than how it might be typically
understood. Kelly even described the library as a social spot in her interview: “We will go talk to
all the people in the library. There’s different things to do in the library so you’re always running
into somebody.”
Fellowship Place
Another space commonly frequented by a bulk of the participants was a mental health
social club in New Haven called Fellowship Place. Fellowship Place is composed of different
programs, with variable access. The main space, or the clubhouse, requires club membership,
which is acquired through a referral. That said, multiple programs exist on-site and do not
require equivalent membership or clubhouse membership. Clients of these other programs may
choose to apply for club membership, but not all do. For many participants, Fellowship Place
was the sole exclusively mental health-focused program they mapped. Fellowship Place is less
accessible than the other spaces, which was apparent in my own access when interviewing
participants who spent time there. Although I was always permitted in and even sometimes
without going through the security measures required of guests of the club, as a nonmember I
was seen as an outsider. That said, the publicness and accessibility of the space largely depended
on the program visited.
Some participants in the study, including Kelly, Matt, Patrice, and Rich, spent a
considerable amount of time at Fellowship Place’s drop-in center, Fellowship Inn (or more
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 63
endearingly, the Inn), for homeless individuals with mental illness. These same participants were
not necessarily members of the club itself and rarely frequented the main space at Fellowship
Place. The Inn provided services on weekdays that enabled a daily routine more typical of
someone who is housed, including meals, laundry facilities, shower facilities, and a living room
environment with couches, a television, and games. Unlike the clubhouse, the Inn did not require
membership. Clients simply received services because they had a need. In some cases,
exclusively visiting the Inn was a way for certain participants to distinguish themselves from
those with even more serious mental illnesses who hung out in the main space. In fact, Rich, who
was receiving services at the Inn, maintained he had never seen a mental health professional and
did not have a diagnosis (neither of which could be true, given his active participation in the
mental health program). During a stint of nearly daily visits to Fellowship Place, Rich was at the
Inn every day.
Another program more distantly related to the main clubhouse is called Community
Reporting Engagement Support and Treatment (CREST). CREST is a day reporting program that
provides services for men and women with mental illnesses who are involved in the criminal
justice system. Rather than going through the main clubhouse and registering as a guest, visitors
to CREST would dial their number into a communication box at the front of the building and
speak directly with the program’s administrators. Some of the participants, including Grant,
Maurice, Chris, Elvin, and Daisy, cited visiting CREST as a routine part of their week, which
could sometimes be explained by mandated minimum participation (although some participants
self-selected to participate in the program more than required). This routine, which was specific
to weekdays when CREST was open, often included hanging out downtown and at CREST to fill
free time. For Daisy, CREST was part of her professional work routine because she attended as a
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 64
peer worker rather than a client. Only Grant identified the program as among the more important
spaces he frequented, in part because it served as a social substitute. Because his friends and
family were mostly active drug users, he relied more heavily on sobriety-promoting
environments: “I hang out at CREST. I really don’t go hang out with my friends no more.” For
this reason, Grant also split his free time between CREST and home rather than CREST and
downtown.
Coffee Shops
Coffee shops, like Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks, provide utility or space similar to the
library. Despite their shared utility, three primary differences existed between the two spaces:
cost, hours, and proximal variability. Whereas libraries are free and open access, coffee shops
require a fee for service through a coffee or food purchase. This was not always a limitation.
Many participants went to Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks not only for their social or technology
needs, but also because it provided relatively affordable coffee. Homeless participants were more
likely to express this limitation because of their reliance on these places as charging or fee-based
spaces. The second and third differences between the utility of coffee shops and the library for
participants in the study were related to the hours of operation and proximity. The New Haven
Free Public Library system has five branches, none of which are open on Sundays and only one
of which is open on Fridays. Even in the middle of the week, the library has relatively variable
hours—sometimes opening at 10 and sometimes at 12, sometimes closing at 5 and sometimes at
8. The main branch adjacent to the Green is most frequented and is open more than the other five
branches, but is still subject to this range. Coffee shops, on the other hand, are located throughout
New Haven with locations open 24 hours. Downtown New Haven, near the Green, is inundated
with coffee shops like Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 65
Another relatively unspoken difference between the two spaces was directly related to the
services provided. Unlike the library, which has immediate utility through access to computers,
books, magazines, and other similar resources, coffee shops are entirely self-serve. Participants
came to the coffee shops with their phones, tablets, or computers because of their accessibility,
but seemed to prefer the library because of its sociability. Although participants spoke often of
running into friends at the library, coffee shops seemed to be more solitary experiences. Social
interactions were often limited to brief exchanges with baristas. This difference is notable
because in more middle- to upper-class circles, the reverse is true: coffee shops are more often
regarded as social spaces whereas libraries are solitary and quiet workspaces.
Other Spaces
Although the Green, the library, Fellowship Place, and coffee shops were the most
commonly cited spaces, participants in the study cited other spaces as important, highly
frequented, and offering a sense of belonging. Among these spaces were religious centers (e.g.,
churches and masjids), soup kitchens, restaurants, retail centers (e.g., the mall, the dollar store,
clothing stores, Walmart, and the flea market), and entertainment spaces (e.g., the movies,
amusements parks). Although these other spaces seemed to provide more flexible opportunities,
they had preassigned meanings; they were more purposive and functional. These were the spaces
where participants ran errands (e.g., shopping for groceries, seeing movies, or buying clothes).
Mental health and treatment spaces were less consistently mapped (aside from Fellowship
Place).
In addition, though the New Haven Green was perhaps the most popularly referenced
green space, it was not the only one. The value of green spaces was echoed by many participants
as spaces that provided opportunities for self-reflection and meditative moments of relaxation.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 66
Participants commonly cited Edgewood Park, a large park in the Westville neighborhood of New
Haven. Some also talked about the peaceful solitude of beaches and other smaller parks.
Whereas the Green afforded social opportunities, these other green spaces were more solitary for
the participants. Patrice noted that she was “most comfortable sitting in a park” and singled out
Edgewood Park “because it has a lake, has water, ducks, and trees. And it’s like really green.”
For those participants who treated Edgewood as a social space, the socialization itself
was far more intentional than at the Green, where running into an old acquaintance or avoiding
associates who were drunk or high was standard behavior. At Edgewood, many participants
would sit by the water, sometimes feeding the ducks. Some participants, like Chris, Andre, and
Pauline, would bring children to the park because of its playgrounds.
For many of the participants, water in green space played a significant role in whether a
public space facilitated a sense of calm. Beaches (like West Haven Beach) and parks with bodies
of water (like Edgewood Park or the Lighthouse) were often cited for this reason. When asked
about places where they like to spend time, Chris, Angelica, Lamar, and Kelly all exclaimed, as
if quoting one another, that they loved the water. Gary, Patrice, and Elvin talked about how the
presence of water attracted them to certain spaces—they liked to sit and watch the water or
waves.
Temporality of Public Spaces
Thus far, I have described the most commonly cited and often most meaningful spaces
that participants identified and the types and patterns of use that unfolded in them. However, in
participants’ everyday lives and during the course of any given year, these places undergo
inevitable changes. I now turn to two forms of temporality in the public landscape. I first
describe how participants moved routinely between some of the most meaningful spaces in their
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 67
lives. This turned out to be an extremely meaningful form of public engagement in its own right.
Like the spaces themselves, the process of moving through space was an opportunity to connect
with others in public. I then explore the effects of changing seasons on how and where
participants spent time in public.
Moving among Spaces by Walking Around
Although many of the participants had routines that were specific to certain needs (e.g.,
substance abuse treatment, mental health treatment, social services), they also talked about a
public space routine that was more process oriented and less goal oriented. Participants talk
about moving through space, without aim or purpose, as a way to kill time between appointments
or groups or work shifts. This movement through space was also a means of filling otherwise
empty days with activity or interaction. For many of the participants, every time they left home
(or their homelike space), the routine of living and being—beyond the scope of prescribed
treatment goals—began. Clarence talked about this idea of leaving the house as an essential
component of his daily routine. He called it a “think as you go” process:
I get up early. I get up like a quarter to 6 or something like that. And you just think as you
go along what you gonna do. You know one thing you’re gonna do is you’re gonna get
out of this house. And you’re gonna travel somewhere. So it’s definitely probably gonna
be downtown unless you have business uptown. So this is downtown the further we go
that way.
For Reggie, moving through public space was part of how he spent his spare time and the
way he familiarized himself with the patterns of different spaces and the opportunities that might
be available. He shared:
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 68
I’m usually spread out you know because you know I’m trying to find out you know
different parts of the city and that kinda thing. Then I’m job searching so you know in my
spare time I kinda walk around the neighborhoods I’m trying to become familiar with or I
find employment so I know exactly how I can get there and that kinda thing.
Reggie talked about being “spread out,” which is a powerful reference to his relatively
spontaneous movement through and among the spaces he identified as meaningful to him. As
opposed to a predetermined sequence of destinations, Reggie spread out to explore opportunities
in different parts of town. In other words, although he pointed to specific places as more
important or more frequented, they did not curate the importance assigned. Rather, Reggie said
he seeks new opportunities while he’s out on improvisational trips through the public landscape.
Andre talked about walking through and to different places as not merely a form of a
transport, but as an essential part of his routine. Like Reggie, the walks were part of familiarizing
himself with a place he had been away from. Unlike Reggie, however, the walks were not simply
how he used free time. They were part of how he described his routine:
A lot of times I like taking long walks. … The city is different from when I left so I’m
getting to know the city again. When I go, I spend a lot of time at my mother’s home. I
spent a lot of time at Edgewood Park.
Andre’s walks constituted a routine and the places he visited were just stops along the way,
which is something he indicated by following up his walk description with “when I go.”
The experience of moving through space as a feature of daily routines was not restricted
to those who had only recently been released from prison. Participants like Gary talked about just
“walking around.” For Gary, walking around was an opportunity for reflection and did not
require an endpoint. These walks often included interactions with others along his path. Danny
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 69
also talked about walking around as a part of his daily activity. He talked about leaving home,
going to Christian services, the soup kitchen, the library, and then walking around. Betty Anne
said she takes the same walks, interacting with some of the same people, including her family
members, every time she leaves the house.
Seasonal Changes in Space
Depending on weather, these spaces were interpreted differently by participants. In this
way, although engagement in public space generally was relatively consistent among participants
in the study, the spaces frequented and the meanings attached to those spaces were more
variable. Kelly, as an example, was interviewed during the height of winter and pointed out
during the mapping process that her primary hangout (the beach) was inaccessible when it was
so cold. The effects of weather on her routine renewed itself during our go-along interview in
late spring. In fact, when I met up with her, the first thing Kelly wanted to tell me was about how
her life had changed now that the weather had changed:
Kelly and I chatted outside and she told me she had big updates now that the warming
center is closed (it closed on April 1). She told me that she was worried because the map
she drew during our first interview was very different now. She no longer hangs out in
that same neighborhood because she is not staying at the warming center and she is
looking for new places like a new Dunkin’ Donuts. She shared that she has been going to
a Dunkin’ Donuts near where they sleep now, but that they don’t have enough outlets.
She also told me that she and Matt are now staying in a tent off of Route 34 “in the
woods” with Matt’s uncle and his girlfriend.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 70
Terrence similarly drew on weather-related changes when describing how he spends his
time. He described spending more time outside in the fall and winter as because of his sensitivity
to warm weather (a byproduct of medication):
The fall and the winter are more so that I’m in transit than anything [to] … more
appointments. I’ll go out even more … to hang out even—you understand? To come
downtown or to—more socialization that I’ll do than during summertime.
Jackie also talked about how weather affected her time in public space. She shared that
she was learning how to play cards and would often go out and find people to teach her. She
talked about this as a recent and regular opportunity to “get in, fit in,” but then indicated that this
would change, which would ultimately challenge her current routine: “But the weather about to
change and we ain’t going out there too much.” Patrice likewise talked about how much she
enjoyed green spaces like Edgewood Park, but then mentioned that she had not gone to the park
in some time because the weather had been too cold.
Andre’s relationship with his daughter and the way they spent their time was likewise
largely defined by the weather:
From there, sometimes, Thursday, me and my daughter get together depending on the
weather. We go to Edgewood Park. We feed the ducks and the geese or play ball or we
just walk. We both like to exercise and walk.
For Andre, his relationship with his daughter was curated by the availability of certain
spaces, and this was hampered by a drop in temperature in New Haven. Monique cited the
weather as playing a role in the spaces she frequents on three different occasions during her
interview.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 71
Kelly, Matt, Patrice, and DeMarcus at various points during go-along interviews also
spoke of the unique impact of weather, particularly snowy and cold weather, on homeless
individuals. Whether drawing on current or past experiences, they each talked about the
seemingly arbitrary hours of certain public spaces or the lack of daytime weekend services for
homeless men and women. When I interviewed Kelly the first time, we were bracing for a
weekend of subzero temperatures. She stated:
That one thing that worries me for this weekend is they’re not supposed to close down the
warming centers but yet somebody told us that they—I guess they—have the right to
close them down? … Especially with the temperatures being as cold as they’re gonna be
this weekend, that’s what bothers me.
During the daytime she was less concerned because she could “bebop” to different spaces like
“McDonalds, Dunkin’ Donuts, the library, if they’re open.”
Ontological Security in Public Space
Given the variation and temporality of spaces, this study attempted to explore how
participants experienced a sense of ontological security in public space. Understanding the
expression of this type of security in public space, especially through its four markers, gave
greater depth and pattern to participants’ variable reactions to public spaces. Ontological security
describes a sense of comfort and safety in one’s existence—security in who and how we are
(Laing, 1969). The markers of ontological security include: (a) a space featuring constancy in the
social and material environment; (b) a space for the routine, quotidian, and daily activities of
living; (c) a space where an individual can sustain control and be liberated from the control of
others (e.g., surveillance); and (d) a space that permits identity construction (Dupuis & Thorns,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 72
1998). These markers were part of the semistructured baseline interview, although participants
often referred to them without initiation.
Many participants demonstrated a type of autonomy to live freely that was rooted in the
constancy of their built environments. Similar to Dupuis and Thorns’ (1998) conceptualization of
constancy through home ownership and family, participants expressed a sort of knowing and
comfortable relationship to spaces in New Haven and the people attached to those spaces. Many
of the participants moved with ease through spaces and engaged others in passing. For Kelly and
Matt, this was evident during a trip to the methadone clinic, where they had run-ins and long
conversations with friends from prisons. They often began their days with these trips and if their
days were otherwise empty, they would wear house clothing (e.g., sweats or pajamas). On one
occasion, Kelly called me to borrow clothing because she had bused to the clinic in her pajamas
and forgotten that she needed to be in New Haven that evening for her program graduation. For
Daisy, this was apparent in her relationship to the local “pop shop.” During a walk to the store,
Daisy spoke with pride of the store’s history and its upkeep. She even communicated a
relationship to the space that predated her residence in the neighborhood, demonstrating a rather
deeply felt ownership of the space itself:
When we got to the store, she told Nick, the Indian man who owns the store, that I was
shadowing her and then asked him to tell me how long he was open and about how bad it
was before. He said he opened the store in 1990 (not clear why she knew what the store
looked like then because she only moved into Section 8 housing in 2008 and lived in
respite on Whalley before that). She had a strong narrative about the dramatic change in
the store and a lot of pride in how it looked. “Look around! You can walk through the
store. See what they have!”
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 73
Home had variable meaning in the sample. Some participants referred to “their spot”
when referring to home (e.g., Patrice, Kelly, and Matt). Their spot was wherever their
encampments were and was relatively unstable. For other participants, home meant their room
(particularly if unshared; e.g., Grant, Terrence, and Monique). In these cases, experiences of
constancy in social and material environments—and the meaning attached to that constancy—
was enacted in public spaces rather than home. For these participants, being at home actually
meant a loss of agency in some ways. For example, some refrained from lighting a fire so that
housed neighbors would not find out that they had set up an encampment nearby. Others were
restricted by curfews through program-related housing. In these situations, being at home
actually felt somewhat constraining and they were more likely to feel a sense of agency and
autonomy in some of the public spaces they frequented. For Monique, the library was the space
that provided that homelike feeling:
I pretty much go in there and do—if I’m on the computer, I do what I have to do on the
computer, and then I may go into my own space and just—sometimes I bring some work
or homework that we get from here. I bring it to the library with me, just catch up, just
peacefully.
In some situations, home had lost that formerly ascribed meaning. Rather than a place of
safety and security, it became a place of risk and aversion. This was true for Michelle and
Patrice, who actively avoided the neighborhood they lived in prior to incarceration. It was also
true for Maurice, who avoided his hometown altogether: “I avoid Hartford as much as I can,
‘cause that’s where I’m from. And I know too many other grown people that even though when I
do go there, I go with the right people.” Dru was careful to say that although he did not actively
avoid his old neighborhood, he no longer saw a reason for going there: “There should be no
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 74
reason for me to wanna go, let’s say to my old street. … I spent more time getting high there than
anything else.”
For Andre, avoiding his old neighborhood was something he strived for despite the
inherent complexities: “I’m from the area I actually winded up living in which is ironic. So I
avoid a lot of people that I know. I don’t get in cars with people.” Like Andre, April avoided the
space where she lived. In front of April’s building were benches where residents could sit and
smoke and socialize. April described these benches as “lots of trouble” and said that “sitting on
the bench, you get wrapped up in the ‘he said, she said,’ everybody else’s business.” Notably, I
ran into April twice sitting on these benches, revealing the inherent complexities of her
relationship to the space.
For many other participants, however, the experience of home was isolated to being at
home. Terrence, as an example, talked about the significance of home, especially given his
history of homelessness. While homeless he would visit small parks to experience moments of
intentional solitude or comfort. But after obtaining housing, things had changed: “I’ve been in so
many situations where there’s chaotic behavior going on around me, so I enjoy a lot of—not a
lot, but I enjoy the space that I have to get my thoughts together and stuff.” For Luis, home in all
its forms (e.g., family homes, friends’ homes) was the singular space in which he felt
comfortable. In fact, Luis was in a minority of participants who mapped primarily private spaces:
his mom’s house, his brother’s house, two of his cousins’ homes, and two of his friends’ homes.
During our interview, Luis noted that he frequented spaces where he knew people, such that
familiarity or lack thereof largely restricted his everyday public space experiences.
Space for routine and daily activities of living was a primary means of describing
interactions with public space. In many cases when asked to talk about places they liked to go to,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 75
participants would respond by detailing their personal routines. These routines varied from
participant to participant, but often involved moving through public spaces like the Green, the
library, coffee shops, and retail stores. Sometimes, daily routine involved simple walks without
direction or purpose or bus rides to appointments. By nature of their description, these activities
were rote and predictable. Many of the participants found it easy to describe their favorite and
important spaces by taking me through a typical day or week (depending on the variability of
their days). DeMarcus, for example, talked about his routine, detailing the patterns of his days:
I have a routine. Yes. If I’m not going to my groups or whatever, or after my groups, I go
to the package store and I go to the park … If I’m not—if I don’t have no groups, because
usually—the only thing that keeps me from going to the package store early is because of
my groups. Some of my groups are in the morning, at 10:45. Like I have a group
tomorrow, Tuesday at 10—tomorrow will be Tuesday, so I have group at 10:45. And now
if I go to my second group at night, my night group, I can’t do nothing. I can’t drink until
after … my second group, which is at 6:30.
Routine was often a major part of the community mapping process as well. Some
participants opted to lay out daily or weekly schedules instead of maps to relay the spaces they
frequented. Other participants mapped along a path of their daily routine.
Although control and surveillance are often perceived to be matters addressed (or avoided,
for that matter) in private space, many participants indicated that they frequented certain public
spaces when they desired privacy and security. This sometimes occurred because they simply
lacked true private space (whether homeless or living with others who demanded responsibility),
but sometimes because participants simply identified with and felt comforted by certain public
spaces. Part of Daisy’s recovery involved learning how to find and sustain moments of privacy
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 76
or “do me” moments. As a caretaker for her husband with stage IV lung cancer, Daisy relied on
public space to experience these “do me” moments. For her, they happened while “sitting on the
Green or on the bench,” because going home meant caretaking or assuming certain family
obligations. She said at the Green, she is “waiting to exhale.” DeMarcus referred to specific
spaces that facilitated the type of “do me” moments that Daisy described. DeMarcus spoke about
Edgewood Park (a large park in the Westville neighborhood of New Haven) as his “antisocial
spot … because it’s quiet and you don’t see too many people.” He described the spot as serene
and facilitative of the type of meditative experience he seemed to seek for himself:
So you see people walking. People on walks back and forth all day, but it’s definitely
quiet. Just no noise. When you see them, you won’t even hear them go by. … It seem like
they do the same thing. Some people just feed the ducks, the geese that’s there or
whatever. People just use it to—I think the same thing, to release their mind or stress, try
to be stress free.
Amos described a small park as providing space to think about:
My book, myself, my wants and need, my goals … to stay out of trouble, to better
myself, to put my best self forward, to set goals for myself to take the steps that I need to
take to reach those goals, and find out what it’s like to have a stronger sense of
accomplishment, and to try to inspire—to ignite and inspire that kind of flame in other
people and hopefully become an example.
Kelly described the beach as a space that puts her most at ease. She described a moment right
after her release from prison when she and her sister stopped at a beach in the dead of winter just
to feel the sand, look at the water, and pick up shells. Chris similarly described the beach as
making him “feel somber and calm.”
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 77
Like his counterparts in the study, Lamar seemed to routinely experience security and
calm outside the home and particularly at green spaces. He described a pattern that facilitated a
sense of ease outside of the home:
What I do is, if I’m driving, so I would pull over to a place like Edgewood Park, just park
my car, sit in the car, and maybe smoke me a cigarette, and that’s—relax my mind. Other
times, I would go to West Haven Beach, park out there, and might take a walk out on the
pier or something like that or walk the boardwalk a little bit.
These examples collectively demonstrate private use of public space, reinforcing the
fluidity of these types of spaces. For many participants, parks and beach facilitated moments of
relaxation, reflection, and personal meditations on identity. These examples further demonstrate
the role that public space can play in securing ontological security, especially when participants’
relationships to home were tenuous.
Participatory Mapping Structure and Organization
All participants mentioned at least some of the aforementioned places as meaningful.
However, during the course of my interviews, they also revealed that those places could have
vastly different meanings, depending on the participant. The different ways participants
imagined New Haven’s public landscape was evidenced during a cross-case analysis of the maps
drawn by participants.
Mapping structure and organization was varied and often represented different ways in
which participants imagined, used, and related to public space. All participants were asked to
draw a map of places they identified during the course of a semistructured interview about places
they go to outside their homes. Despite this directive, most participants—even those who were
homeless—marked first the space where they lay their head. For many participants, their homes
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 78
were peripherally positioned, which is to say they were not centrally located in the drawing.
Many participants mapped their spaces around downtown or the New Haven Green. This central
marker was even used in cases wherein the Green or its subsidiary spaces (e.g., churches, the
library, the bus stop) did not appear in the participant’s narrative. This is particularly notable
given the square’s long history as a central feature of the city.
Participants mapped their public lives in a number of ways. For example, Grant mapped
along a line and rather than geographically orienting the spaces he frequented, he oriented them
according to their risk level (Figure 4). He expressly indicated this at one point, highlighting that
a specific place was in the “safe zone.” Jackie mapped according to her daily routine such that
her map looked more like a weekly calendar and the details of the days were merely the activities
in which she typically would engage. Amos also mapped based on routine, though he focused
exclusively on a daily routine, marking both a typical day routine and an alternate day routine
(Figure 5). DeMarcus, who attended art school for a brief spell, focused more on the graphic
depictions of spaces. He drew prominent features of spaces (e.g., the fountain at the Green or
handcuffs at adult probation). Likewise, Chris drew a church and a park and then labeled
elements of each space (including birds flying above; Figure 6). Luis’s map was concentrated on
less than a quarter of the paper provided, whereas Kelly mapped on both sides of the sheet.
Despite this difference, both Luis and Kelly mapped multiple cities to reflect their typical use of
space. Participants like Ray and Monique focused on the outer edges of the sheet of paper to
draw their maps.
To a certain extent, these mapping differences demonstrated the different ways in which
participants related to space. As an example, participants who mapped routines seemed to relate
more to the proximal goals of doing certain things than to getting to or spending time in certain
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 79
places. Alternatively, participants who drew more geographically accurate maps seemed more
focused on the possibility of an entire area as a hangout space rather than a prescribed route to
very specific places. Perhaps, most commonly, participants’ inclusion of their homes on these
maps of spaces that were outside the home highlights the significance of private space, even if
public space was frequented and significant. The added tendency to place homes peripherally
rather than centrally might suggest that some participants draw very clear distinctions between
being at home and going out—sitting on a bench at the Green is a very different experience that
sitting on a couch at home.
Figure 4: Grant’s Map (Risk Zones)

Figure 5: Jackie’s Map and Amos’ Map (Routines)

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 80
Figure 6: DeMarcus’s Map and Chris’s Map (Artistic Depiction)

Conclusion
Although the use of public space varied in both practice and perception, it provided
participants with stable routine, connection, and opportunity. It was the lynchpin and connective
tissue of their everyday lives. This is because for participants, public space, in all its
unpredictability, was somewhat predictable. They capably identified (and often avoided) risk.
They explored familiar social settings and groups. They seized unexpected opportunities and
resources. Furthermore, participants often found that the public landscape provided a welcome
respite from their often tenuous relationships to the more private and intimate spaces in their lives.
At best, they could find an enduring source of support in public. Much of this, as explored in
Chapter 4, was developed through social interactions in these different spaces.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 81
Chapter 4: Between Intimacy and Isolation: The Role of Public Space Interactions
Chapter 3 detailed the meaningful public space geography of participants in this study.
This chapter explores how participants navigated social interactions in different spaces through
their perceptions of self and others. It also explores how they navigated degrees of anonymity
and intimacy in the public and private spaces they described as meaningful to them. These
interactions proved both beneficial and burdensome. Most meaningfully, these interactions often
supplemented one another. The weakness of strong ties often forced participants to seek support
in untraditional places. As described throughout this chapter, participants often called on relative
strangers during moments of difficulty and need.
Carceral Identities and Transformations of Self
Although the participants in this study spoke mostly of their postprison selves, many
participants referenced—whether actively or in passing— how their identities had changed
during the course of their incarceration. These transformations help elucidate the self they put
forth in their interactions with both known family and friends and less familiar acquaintances and
strangers. Although included in this study primarily because of their mental health and criminal
justice histories, some participants transcended these identities in their everyday interactions.
Others felt more constrained by the limits of these identities. In both scenarios, however,
participants described transformations of self that fundamentally changed how they navigated
spaces and interactions.
These experiences were sometimes as mundane as technological change during the
course of their incarceration or as complicated as shifts in familial stigma. In response to a
question about his reentry experience, Grant remarked that “When you go in, stuff one way.
When you come home, it’s a whole another way.” Grant, who indicated that he spent
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 82
approximately 9 years incarcerated in total, commented on changing communication patterns,
specifically manifest in the rise of texting. Upon reentry from prison, Grant was relearning
interaction norms:
When I went to jail the first time, people had them chirp phones, the Nextel. When I
came home, everybody was talking about texting and I didn’t know what any of those
saying mean, like OMG, LOL, and all of that. When I came home, it was chirping.
For Kelly who had just returned from a lengthy incarceration, this lag in knowledge laid
the groundwork for a routine interaction with a library worker. Her initial interaction was framed
by her time away: “When I asked her for help, I explained to her—you know, I’m sorry, I’m
learning technology and I don’t know how to do certain things, you know, telling her that I did
so much time in prison.” Notably, Kelly’s carceral identity played out differently with her family
members, with some of whom she intentionally did not share her incarceration experience: “I
believe if [my niece] knew what my situation was that she wouldn’t let me be around the baby.”
This perception is notably layered. Not only did Kelly choose to keep her incarceration narrative
to herself among family (even though she willingly divulged it to a stranger at the library), but
her family had apparently been willing to indulge this secret by not sharing the fact of her 7-year
incarceration with her niece. Surprisingly, it was in a public space around strangers where Kelly
could be most at easy in her process of self- and identity transformation.
These transformations of self from criminal to citizen were apparent in more complex
perspective shifts as well. Angelica, who had been out of prison for some time, talked about her
identity transformation from a carceral identity to a more normalized identity through her
approach to socialization. She noted that her prior self—prior to and during incarceration—was
rather antisocial. One of her struggles was facing others’ presumptions that she was still that
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 83
same person. As an example, she talked about running into a woman who had been a victim of
her past behaviors:
So I wasn’t a very pleasant person when I was out there drinking and drugging, and that
same woman I seen in the store, and she literally took her daughter and left the store. But
that made me feel some type of way.
Despite her rather successful efforts to change (Angelica had been out of prison for some time
and was employed at a higher level position at a mental health agency), she still struggled to
ensure that others view her as the person she had worked hard to become and not the person she
once was.
Clarence, who had only been out of prison for 4 months during our interview, likewise
talked about his struggle to earn the equal regard of his peers, who were employed and living
crime-free lives. He talked about this in the context of seeking employment, a process that had
become an active part of his daily routine:
New Haven is not much to know. It’s the people that you know. I don’t know as many
people as I used to because I’m not going all over and saying, “Oh, I’m back.” Who
knows? Once people think you went to jail or something they don’t see you or you died
so I disappointed them a little, you know?
To identify a well-resourced employment network, Clarence needed to navigate the perceptions
of those who feel let down by his incarceration. Terrence similarly mused that New Haven’s size
meant that it was near impossible to escape an incarceration history: “Well, this is a very small
town, so when someone you haven’t seen, it kinda stands out to you or to the people here.” This
fact proved challenging for a number of participants whose absence from the community had
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 84
generated evidence of their stigmatized identity, such that they were forced to encounter that
stigma anew upon their return.
Andre, who like Clarence had only been out for a couple of months, also struggled with
how to shift from a carceral identity to a more normalized identity, although his experience had
less to do with the familiarity of strangers and more to do with his own anxieties. He talked
about this in reference to his walk to the train station, which sits opposite to the police station:
When I walk by, like when I go to the train station, I walk on the opposite side. I don’t
even want to walk on the same side if the police are there. No, I’m not doing anything
wrong. It’s just I’m not there yet mentally and emotionally to just be able to walk by
cops. It’s still hard just to—it’s like if you’re in a car and you see a cop, you just get
nervous. That’s me. That’s what it represents to me. I’m trying to break that cycle.
Whether or not others see him as a criminal or ex-prisoner was almost irrelevant to his
experience. For Andre, it was an internalized identity that he struggled to separate from, and
during his earlier days of reentry, this struggle complicated and shaped his movement through
mundane spaces.
Ray, who had been out of prison for some time, spoke about the point at which he
realized that to move forward, he needed to transform himself. He referenced a conversation with
a supportive probation officer as particularly significant in this change:
So the next day I went there and I was, like, “Yo, I need to take my masks off,” you
know? I went there the next day he was like, “Pshhh, what you doing here?” I said, “I
need to talk to you,” and I say, “I’ve got this daughter, don’t know how to be a father,
I’m married, don’t know how to be a husband,” and I said, “I don’t know how to be a
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 85
man.” I was like, “Fwhhhh,” and it was, like, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever
had to do to tell somebody else that. I didn’t know because I used to always fake it.
Ray’s effort to reinvent himself with the support of someone else was a turning point in his
reentry. As he revealed more of his story, during our conversation, Ray shared that the process
he started with his probation officer played out with strangers in public space. These interactions,
he shared, challenged him to act in increasingly more socially normative ways and also permitted
him the opportunity to communicate the person he wanted to be more effectively. Ray’s
transformation of self was also wrapped up in both a continuity and transformation in his sales
career. Although drug dealing earned him 28 years of bouncing between his neighborhood and
prison, inside prison he refined his bartering skills over soup and other items from the
commissary. Now that he had been back in the community for 5 years, his ability to sell clothing
and pocketbooks in public spaces had sustained his identity outside of prison.
Elvin’s carceral identity was similarly tied to selling drugs. Rather than reapplying that
skill elsewhere, he was deciding whether or not to continue participating in the market at all.
Reflecting on his role as a dealer, he shared that he increasingly had neither the time nor “the
nerves” to continue selling drugs or interacting with customers. “Yeah, the people, you got to
deal with them … conniving, scheming, lying, you know.” Elvin in some ways was aging out of
his old identity while still in search of something new.
For some participants, these identity reinventions were not self-directed, but rather
system imposed. On a number of occasions, Kelly referred to how prison changed her:
And that’s just it before prison I was the most laid-back, free-spirited person you ever
met, even when I did—ended up in—prison, the women hated me because I would run
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 86
around, happy-go-lucky, laughing, making jokes, talking to people. I was a gymnast so I
was running around doing cartwheels whenever I could, walking on my hands.
Now, she noted, she was quieter and less social. She talked about being more hesitant to engage
with others, a behavior for which she directly faulted the prison experience. Ray also talked
about the impact of institutions on his routine and his need for order. He described his day as
having a very routine beginning that would be dramatically affected if he started too early or late.
This obsession with a daily routine, Ray explained, could be ascribed to a lifetime of being
institutionalized. When I asked if his life before being incarcerated lacked that kind of routine he
interrupted, “That was my routine.” In other words, going back and forth to prison constituted
the primary routine in his life. Ironically, now that Ray was more committed to staying out of the
institution, he had brought the institution’s daily routine into his life on the outside.
Terrence also talked about the system changing him, although in his case, the system was
foster care and not criminal justice. Even if it wasn’t perfect, Terrence felt that the system had
taught him to read social cues:
I learned that there are people … there were a lot of people in the house. And sometimes,
I would have to read people because I realized if they didn’t wanna be bothered, you
could read it on their face and just avoid them if they didn’t wanna be bothered. … So I
kind of feel where, even though I know them, how to interact with people.
Notably, a primary difference in the examples of self-directed identity reinvention and
system-imposed identity changes was the amount of time in the community. Both Ray and
Angelica had been in the community for at least 5 years with no instances of recidivism. They
had settled into a rhythm and comfort with the role that incarceration played in their sense of
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 87
self. Kelly, Elvin, and Terrence were only recently released and were still navigating the impact
of the system on their identities.
Benefits and Burdens of Intimate Relationships
Participants in the study drew on intimate relationships—including relationships with
family and friends—for emotional and tangible support during the reentry process. The quality of
these relationships, although nearly universally present for participants, was often mixed. Some
participants spoke of the benefits of intimacy with family members and friends who provided not
only support but also a measure of security during an often unforgiving reentry process. Other
participants, however, revealed that strong ties were also loaded with various burdens of intimacy
and risks of reciprocity. These participants emphasized that although intimate supports provided
necessary resources (e.g., housing, money, or food), the resources resulted in accrued debt or
obligations that they struggled to repay.
Benefits of Intimacy
The benefits of intimacy came in a number of forms. Family, friends, and intimate
partners provided emotional support and security and tangible support through financial and
housing resources. In fact, of the 36 participants in the study, 16 reported receiving financial
support through family and spouse contributions. Twelve of these participants were recent
releasees and four had been out for more than 5 years, suggesting this type of support from
intimate relationships was not always dependent on time in the community. For many
participants, the benefits of intimate relationships were relayed through mapping of family and
friend’s homes. Although many of the participants were at different points in their reentry
process, those participants whose incarcerations were especially recent tended to manifest more
deeply experienced perceptions of intimate relationships. Luis, for example, relied primarily on
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 88
the place-based, emotional, and tangible support of his family and friends, rarely straying from
their homes during his very new reentry process. He had been released days before our interview
and was still learning how to navigate space as a newly released ex-prisoner. In his case, the
tangible support of his family and friends also exemplified the reason why he was not homeless
upon reentry.
Like Luis, Clarence, who had only been out for 4 months, relied heavily on his brother
and his brother’s girlfriend for both housing and socialization. When describing his social
outings to the Green or Fellowship Place, he emphasized that he would primarily stay with
family, but he also observed his surroundings. Although his family served as a cushion, he said
his observations indicate with whom he might also associate safely. In fact, he used our
interview as an opportunity to make these observations: “I’m already comfortable with you
because the lady was just talking to you so that means she knows you from being around these
folks here, yeah.” He saw my conversation with a woman he recognized as evidence that I was
probably safe.
Andre, who had been out for about 3 months, emphasized the importance of family in his
reentry process. His most meaningful activities included playing basketball and feeding the
ducks with his daughter at the park, spending time at his mother’s home, and visiting his wife,
who lived in Bridgeport. Reggie, who had been out for about a year, talked about the support of a
friend in New Haven, with whom he had once lived in Atlanta. This friend encouraged Reggie to
relocate to New Haven, telling him, “Look before you get in some more trouble, you need to
leave there.” Reggie subsequently moved in an effort to separate himself from his old life and to
be closer to the support of his friend in New Haven.
Often the benefits and joy of intimacy were expressed through relationships with
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 89
children. Many participants, including Andre, Kelly, Patrice, Chris, and Pauline, talked about the
role their children played in their reentry. Sometimes they emphasized the need to recover
broken relationships because of incarceration. Other times, they talked about the responsibility of
parenting as a critical way of recovering their precarceral identities.
The role of intimacy was not restricted to the newly released. Participants who had been
out longer also talked about the emotional and social support provided by family and friends
during their reentry. Ray, for example, talked about the role his wife’s support played in helping
him to transition out of his incarceration cycle. He talked about how she would take him with her
to nail salons, where he started getting clean. Sheila had maintained strong and seemingly positive
relationships with her family—her mother, siblings, children, and grandchildren—and referenced
her relationships to them when mapping out her important and well-frequented spaces. Betty
Anne talked about how her mother sometimes supported her financially and even helped her get
in an apartment during a prior reentry period. She also shared that on her daily walks to stores or
Fellowship Place, her extended family members would stand outside and watch her, making sure
she is safe. Her brother checked on her daily as well.
Other descriptions of intimate relationship were more complicated and did not fit neatly
into categories of benefit or burden. Matt’s relationship with his housed and employed mother
was evidence of this type of relationship. Although he relied heavily on her for support—visiting
her home often and reminiscing about the nature of their relationship—he was homeless and also
reincarcerated during the study because he did not have sufficient funds to pay restitution he
owed the courts. Although his mother had dogs in the house and even welcomed his small dog
during visits, she was generally reluctant to watch the dog when Matt and his girlfriend Kelly
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 90
needed help. My interaction with Matt’s mother seemed to further support this complicated
relationship:
At Matt’s mom’s house, I said, “You have a great son. He’s one of the nicest people I’ve
met here in New Haven.” She rolled her eyes. It was unclear if it was sarcastic or serious,
but when I followed up and asked her about what Matt was like growing up in the house,
she immediately retorted, “Matt doesn’t live here.”
Danny similarly expressed mixed feelings when talking about his brother. When he was
released, 6 years prior to our interview, he spent time in Waterbury living with his brother, but
ultimately ended up homeless and in New Haven because of problems with his brother.
Nonetheless, despite how their relationship may have changed, Danny also shared that he and his
brother have a “pretty good connection,” although he only likes “being around him sometimes.”
Burden of Intimacy
Although intimate relationships provided a degree of security and support, participants
also described them as unnecessarily risky, connected to their histories of criminal behavior, or
unduly burdensome. Pedro, for example, sought to separate himself from certain family members
whom he identified as instigators of the crimes that led to his incarcerations. During his
interview, he expressed inherent risks in interacting with them because although some were clean
(like his mother and two of his siblings), “the rest of my family, all they do is sell drugs to make
money.” Maurice was also hesitant to engage fully in certain intimate relationships because of
his efforts to stay clean and out of prison after a 27-year incarceration. His girlfriend, although
seemingly disconnected from his criminal history, used alcohol, creating a “high-risk situation”
for him:
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 91
It’s a lot of kind of tension because she does other things that I don’t approve of, but hey,
she’s a grown woman and I can’t tell her what to do, but I don’t participate in all that. I
don’t want to be around that. And I tell her that. I don’t go to bars. I don’t hang out with
the people I used to hang out with. I don’t do the things I used to do. My whole train of
thought is thinking change. … I mean, if I make it to bed that night, I’m straight. I
haven’t had a drug or a drink—‘cause if I drink a beer, I’m drunk. I can’t drink. And that
leads to other things, and then there’s a thing called triggers. So high-risk situations, I
tend to leave alone. That’s why me and her is about to go our separate ways, because
she’s becoming a high-risk situation for me.
Other participants shared a similar tale of risk avoidance, including Dru and Grant. Dru
noted that he no longer had friends he could “call, hey, let’s go hang out” because he was trying
to get his life together. Like Maurice, he didn’t associate with his old friends because they’re
“not doing the same thing anymore.” Similar to Maurice, Grant expressed a desire to avoid high-
risk situations involving alcohol and drugs after 20 years of cycling in and out of the criminal
justice system. He shared that his siblings’ drinking and drug use created unnecessary risks that
he tries to avoid, creating a complicated environment of support,
“My sister only drink on the weekends, so Monday through Friday I’ll be good there
because she works so she not going to drink. I feel safe there too. Plus, she won’t let me
drink. … My brother not like that. My brother, he’ll get me high before I get him sober
because he be offering it, “You can smoke this out your system in this amount of days,”
… but I take random urines. So you don’t know. I might smoke that then go back to the
house and they want a urine.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 92
Grant didn’t have uniform rules about whom he should avoid and with whom he should spend
time. He had developed a much more complex understanding of how the work, drinking, and
drug use schedules of his siblings match with his own needs, institutional requirements, and risk
factors. The same person did not pose the same set of risks throughout the week.
For other participants, the burden of these relationships was borne out of judgment and
stigma rather than risky behaviors. For example, Kelly’s interaction with her pregnant niece after
7 years of incarceration left her feeling deeply troubled and stigmatized. During our interview,
she about pondered the relationship aloud: “So will I be in her life, in the baby’s life this time?”
… I think, I believe if she knew what my situation was that she wouldn’t let me be around the
baby.” After a long incarceration, her niece was still unaware of her history. Although this
allowed Kelly to maintain some sense of control over her own narrative and identity, it also
served as evidence that she was forgotten during her incarceration. Michelle likewise felt her
family saw her different because of her past: “Sometimes I feel like I could feel somebody don’t
feel something about me. Like my family, they give me that feeling. I got sick, they didn’t want
to be around me and stuff. And I can feel it.” Hakeem also sensed his family did not support him,
noting that, “Even though times are hard, stuff is real rough. It seems like my family doesn’t love
me. They don’t embrace me. They don’t have faith or confidence in me.” For Hakeem, this
burden translated into a need to advocate for himself.
Clarence’s relationship with his family was littered with complexity—an early
incarceration was a result of shooting his stepfather—but he also sought his family’s support by
moving to Connecticut. This move proved fruitless in terms of familial support, forcing him to
create familylike relationships with others. Similar to Clarence, Alice sought the support of
family at various points, but to no avail. During a past hospitalization, her family refused to help
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 93
with custody of her children. During her most recent reentry period, she had very limited contact
with her family. Alice noted that although her mother lived “like three or four blocks away—I
don’t visit. I don’t call.”
Risks of Reciprocity
Although risk manifested as a burden for some participants, the burden of intimacy was
most distinctly expressed through obligations of reciprocity. Upon reentry, available and willing
intimate supports were the most obvious sources of certain types of tangible support like housing
and money. However, consistent with existing literature (Martinez & Christian, 2008), these
resource provisions typically came with an expectation of reciprocity. This created a pattern of
reciprocity risks among participants, who would accept help and then grow to resent the need to
repay the person providing that help. Accepting help for the men and women in this sample also
created obligation and incurring debt. At a certain point, the resource exchanges eventuated into
relationship dynamics that would crash and burn.
The interactions among Kareem, Pauline, Kelly, and Matt and their respective family and
friends revealed iterations of these reciprocity risks. Kareem, for instance, relied on friends for a
place to sleep at night. Although these friends provided critical support, Kareem shared that they
sometimes saw their generosity as an excuse to patronize him. Kareem said he often felt that if
he accepted their offer to sleep at their house, he also gave up some power in their relationship,
allowing his friends to address him “in a derogatory manner.”
[They consider me] as if I’m something inferior. But reality is, they’ve got the complex.
Every time I talk, we talk—they want to emphasize, “Yeah, well I went to school in
human services. And I done this, and I done that.” … But at the same time, she has
mental health issues. She takes medication and all that type of stuff. And she wants to
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 94
talk to me as if I’m a lunatic. But this is her just venting. I find that I’ve got to be—I’ve
got to play—I’ve got to act like Dr. Phil most times around people.
Kareem needed to play a role so that he could ensure more nights of housing and endure what he
perceived to be an unfair power divide. Pauline’s housing was similarly couched in this type of
back and forth during a prior reentry period. The heightened expectations of reciprocity
ultimately resulted in reincarceration:
I was living with my daughter and we got into an altercation. I was there for 3 weeks and
she wanted me to pay her electric bill or something. And I was like, “You’ve got to be
kidding me. I just got—“ You know, anyway to make a long story short she disrespected
me and I hit her and went to jail.
For Pauline, staying with her daughter was an earned right as a mother because she had always
been there for her. According to Pauline, her daughter “picked deadbeat dads to have kids by that
don’t do shit for the kids. They don’t buy. So I was always there buying clothes or getting stuff.”
Their relationship epitomized the ever-unfulfilled back-and-forth nature of two-sided, reciprocal
relationships. Both had amassed so much debt over time that every act of support loaded the
deck further until eventually the relationships were crippled by unfulfilled obligations on either
side. Pauline shared during her interview that she no longer had a relationship with her daughter,
which meant she could no longer interact with her grandchildren. She even listed her daughter’s
home as a place she actively avoids. This burden of reciprocity continued to haunt Pauline during
her current reentry process. She was rather reluctantly living with a girlfriend. Pauline shared
that she felt a measure of obligation in the relationship because of all her girlfriends, who was
clean (in a criminal sense) and employed, had done for her:
Pauline: And while she was working I was selling drugs. The cops came and I got
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 95
arrested. And for the 11 months that I went to jail—for 11 months—she was there for me.
You know she would pay people to come see me, give her a ride. She kept money on my
books. She would send me cards and letters and all of—that is important when you’re in
jail.
Interviewer: She sounds like a really great person.
Pauline: She is but she gets on my fucking nerves.
Pauline noted that she did not sleep with this woman and although she had grown on her over
time, Pauline felt she had taken advantage of her vulnerability as a person who needed more
support. She would often avoid references to her as her romantic girlfriend at all, revealing that
the relationship’s intimacy was also muddled with resentment.
Kelly and Matt also talked about the burden of obligation, both in relation to each other
and to others with whom they interacted. Some of these burdens were borne of Matt’s recent
incarceration that resulted from an unpaid restitution. Patrice, who had recently received money
through a court settlement (she had been hit by a car a year before I met her), lent Kelly and Matt
money to pay that restitution. That loan, as it turned out, was not guilt free. Matt noted that,
“every time she needs something, Patrice reminds me of that debt.” In their own romantic
relationship, Kelly expressed disappointment that Matt didn’t always follow through on his
responsibilities. Given that they had been homeless during a particularly cold and snowy winter,
Kelly felt that they both had to contribute in small ways. But she also explained that she most
often assumed the major responsibilities. In one example, she shared that Matt hadn’t sufficiently
packed their bag into the makeshift metal cart they use to move around town. She described the
cart’s instability:
Now I’m seeing a whole thing leaning over and I’m like, “What did you do? What is this
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 96
mess?” And it’s embarrassing to me, like, I want to be able to walk around with no
problem and not worrying about hitting anybody.
Later, Kelly conceded that she is “the more dominant one in the relationship” and that Matt is
“like a kid.” For Kelly, this small act of packing the bag into the cart was symbolic of broader
relationship tensions. She saw it as another instance in a pattern of Matt’s sloppy or unscrupulous
behavior that affected her own ability to make do on the streets of New Haven. In that sense, it
exemplified the burden of a supposed reciprocal relationship.
Daisy expressed this burden through multiple relationships. Most notable, however, was a
story about her best friend who borrowed a pair of shoes and never returned them. Soon
thereafter, the same friend asked Daisy to help her sneak into the pool in her apartment complex.
Daisy exclaimed, “You wanna cling to my shoes, but you wanna swim in my pool.” For Daisy,
there was a give and take, and without follow through, the favors would have to be cut off and
friendship was all but over.
Public Space Interactions during Reentry
For nearly all the participants, the typical burdens of intimate relationship were
supplemented by interactions in public space while navigating reentry. These interactions often
provided consistent one-sided opportunities to acquire necessary supports without the risks or
burdens of reciprocity that characterized more intimate relationships. These supports varied from
the simplest forms of social recognition and socialization to deeper forms of emotional support
through intimate and personal conversations.
Many participants told stories about moments of relatively fleeting recognition and social
interaction. Although not necessarily as profound or memorable as more personal conversations,
these interactions provided participants with opportunities for basic socialization. At Fellowship
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 97
Place, this typically played out in the main clubhouse, where members and nonmembers can play
games or chat or eat together. Clarence shared a story during our interview that typified the value
of these moments:
Clarence: I never got into Fellowship, into it, but I was playing chess with this guy
yesterday and the way he was talking was like—he was good, you know, and I like
people that challenge me, that’s cool too. So I said, “Yeah, well then maybe you’ll teach
me something, you know?”
Interviewer: Who was the guy? Was it just someone that you’re playing?
Clarence: It’s a guy that’s in here. I don’t know him, but he comes in here now and I
don’t even remember seeing him in the particular park but I played them.
For Clarence, the man himself was not particularly memorable (he did not even know his name),
but he challenged Clarence and provided a brief moment of anonymous connection. As
subsequently discussed, this anonymity was critical for this particular form of stranger support to
emerge. Regardless of his carceral history or stigmatized identity, with this man Clarence could
simply be a chess player in training.
Jackie talked about a similar situation in which playing card games connected her to
familiar strangers at a park. Jackie talked about engaging unknown others who were playing a
game she wanted to learn and scoping out the best way to make that happen:
That like, they—most of them—say they speak Spanish, but I can just mentally know—
and some saying like, a guy from Fellowship, he talk English. So he tell me what’s going
on. So I bring my game out. So now they teaching me.
In this instance, Jackie’s encounter in a public space also allowed her to transcend ethnic and
linguistic barriers momentarily as she learned to play a new game and get along with strangers.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 98
Lamar also shared an example of this type of game-oriented public space socialization
when talking about time he spends at bowling alleys. Unlike Clarence and Jackie, Lamar did not
specify any one person, group, or even a particular space. Rather, he talked about interacting
with other people at bowling alleys in general, sharing:
When you bowling, you meet other people, too, even if it’s people in other lanes cause
y’all bowling basically, side-by-side. So you know, you watching what’s going over
there. They watching what’s going on on your side, see if anybody hit any strikes or
whatever. And then it becomes a friendship thing. Then you start communicating.
The rhythm of excitement and the close proximity to strangers in bowling alleys afforded Lamar
opportunities to make contact with new people and share spontaneous moments of laughter and
friendship. Even if these relationships do not last beyond the particular encounter, they are more
memorable and meaningful than the relative cold distance that typically characterizes stranger
interactions in public.
For some participants, public space interactions offered opportunities to relearn how to
socialize in a positive way. This was true for Alice, who noted times that she kept to herself and
stayed in her apartment most days. Nonetheless, she also indicated that despite this preference,
she used public space interactions as a way to learn how to interact:
I don’t be around people. I try not to. But, when I am, I’ll say, “Sometimes,” ‘cause I’m
working on focusing and trying to—I don’t really be around anybody. I stay in the house
all the time. So, I’m wanting to go out more and not really make friends, but learn how to
… interact with other people.
In other words, when she visited public spaces, Alice could try on interactional styles and
strategies in relatively low-risk environments among people whom she is not likely to encounter
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 99
again.
Danny shared that although he did not often interact with strangers in public space, his
neighbors, for the first time, invited him to eat some of the food they had been cooking. For
Danny, this invitation was social progress: “And they didn’t even know me, and that’s a good
sign.” Although these neighbors were relatively unknown to Danny, their willingness to socialize
with him was an indicator that they accepted Danny.
Ray also talked about how he used public space interactions to learn how to interact in a
more acceptable ways. He shared this story about selling pocketbooks in a public space:
I first went in there I didn’t know. … I just walked in there one day and they were like—I
just took my pocketbooks out and they were, like, “Yo, excuse me, you can’t—” and I’m,
like, “Oh.” She said, “You’re supposed to ask the owner.” See I didn’t know how. I just
thought you know, say something. See I thought that as long as I’m doing right the world
is supposed to let me just—you know, but it’s I didn’t know how to communicate so I
walk in there, she said, “Excuse me.” I said, “Yeah.” She said, “Well, um, you gotta ask
somebody could you come in.” I said, “Well excuse me, let me go back outside and start
all over.
As noted previously, Ray had once made a living by selling drugs on the street and eventually
became an expert barterer in prison. This simple interaction can be seen as a critical moment of
socialization in which he learned to draw on his skillset as a salesman and adjust it to fit into
New Haven’s public and commercial landscape. This encounter both reframed the way he
initiated future transactions and provided him with a basic lesson in more appropriate and
normative public space interactions.
Public space interactions were not always completely fleeting. Some participants came to
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 100
recognize particular “familiar strangers” who could in some cases even become friends. These
relationships were often purely the product of public space in the sense that they began and were
sustained in public space and various degrees of familiarity developed over time. Other times
they involved individuals who knew each other from other phases of their lives, but had not
maintained regular friendships. These were known strangers from the past, such that
relationships could be reignited (and sustained) in a public space.
Interestingly, Lamar’s story about bowling alleys was juxtaposed against a relationship to
a public space that represented a greater sense of familiarity: the barbershop. For Lamar, the
barbershop typified a slightly different type of interaction opportunity. For him, it was where he
went to hang out in public space with known others:
I go to … get my haircut. And then, the barbershops is just like—the talks is just on
‘cause everybody—that’s where we all meet up at, basically. And if we haven’t seen each
other in a long time, we be at a barbershop just talking about everything.
Unlike some of the other public spaces that participants talked about, Lamar talked about the
barbershop as a gendered experience: “There be women there sometime, too, but it’s like a fun
place for the men that grew up together, for us to go to, make you feel right at home all over
again.” The barbershop, unlike the bowling alley, represented an opportunity for public space
interactions with known others—old friends with whom he did not necessarily maintain close,
personal friendships or talk to in invited, private spaces like their homes. Ray used a former
acquaintance from prison when trying to sell merchandise without a license. This associate,
whom he had run into while hanging out a mall, became his legal proxy for selling pocketbooks
and clothing:
I didn’t have nothing to do, I’m hanging in the malls and you know what I’m saying? He
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 101
might say, “Yo I’m hanging here, you’re walking back and forth.” … I might talk to him.
I knew him from jail so it’s like, yeah, you know what I’m saying? So and like, “Yo I
gotta go to the bathroom, watch the stand.”
Just by spending time at the mall and routinely running into this old acquaintance, Ray was able
to earn his trust and set up his own business alongside him. In this way, public space interactions
provided some participants with an ongoing sense of networking and work opportunities.
While shadowing Grant, DeMarcus, Patrice, and Kelly at various points, I observed their
interactions in public space with former institutional acquaintances. Grant spent some time
chatting with someone he knew from prison about bicycles. The associate left after promising to
get Grant a bicycle. After their conversation, Grant mentioned that although he knew the
associate from prison, he didn’t hang out with him or see him often so their interactions were
restricted to run-ins like the one I observed: “He does stuff I don’t like—like smoke a lot of
weed.” Similarly, Patrice and I ran into someone she knew “from being homeless” while moving
boxes to a tent in West Haven. The man stopped to ask if we wanted to help and I, not knowing
they knew each other, just said no and kept walking. Patrice rather emphatically yelled over,
“Hey Kyle! We’re good. Thank you!” When I asked more about him, she shrugged. Beyond his
name, she only knew that he was homeless and goes to the same soup kitchen that she sometimes
visits. Both of these stories evidence not only a moment of familiarity in a public space, but also
moments of generosity and support from strangers. This theme, discussed in greater detail in the
next section, repeated itself among many participants, who cited familiar strangers as significant
sources of support.
The methadone clinic was one space that seemed to generate routine opportunities for
reunion between old institutional friends. This was especially true for Kelly and Matt, who went
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 102
to the clinic every day for treatment. While I waited for them to finish up in the clinic, Kelly ran
into four old acquaintances from prison and her former methadone clinic. Each of these run-ins
resulted in relatively lengthy hangouts and catch-ups while we waited for Matt to finish up
inside. Interestingly, despite their familiarity in those moments and involvement at the same
clinic, Kelly did not consider these women to be friends, nor did she suggest that they would
have further contact beyond those moments.
Many of the participants navigated public space as if it was home territory. Even when
they did not know others walking down the street, they would interact as if they did. A practice
occurred in many of the neighborhoods we walked through of asking strangers for a cigarette.
These requests were often made in passing but suggested some familiarity such that I would
often follow-up with a participant, asking if she or he knew the person asking for the cigarette. In
each of these cases, the answer was no. It became clear that some participants even planned for
and managed this possibility in public. While Kelly and I were walking one day, Matt called to
ask for some cigarettes. Kelly told me that she does not leave cigarettes with Matt precisely
because he gives a lot of cigarettes away. These interactions portrayed a vague sense of
familiarity that goes beyond the total anonymity that often defines a relationship with a stranger
and public space. This behavior exists on college campuses, where students who are otherwise
strangers are bonded by their institutional affiliation. In this case, neighborhood residents were
bonded by their regular visibility in public space. Given their often tenuous relationships to
private space (e.g., they lived with family or friends, they were homeless and slept in temporary
spaces, or they were couch hopping), participants spent much of their time walking through
various public spaces and in a sense, this marked them as public space affiliated. During one go-
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 103
along, I was walking with Kelly and Matt to an appointment and a series of these exchanges took
place, as reflected in my field notes:
During our walk to the housing appointment, Kelly described herself as a loner, but then
interacted with everyone on the street, saying hello or offering to help. First, a man
stopped Kelly and Matt to ask for a cigarette. They said no and he wished them a nice
day. Then, almost immediately after, Kelly ran over to pick up a homeless man who was
lying on the street near the sidewalk. She brought him to a nearby bench, yelling,
“Frankie!” As we were walking away from the bench, she told me she knew him from the
warming center. She also commented to Matt that it was a little early to be drunk. We
crossed the street and as we were opening the agency door, a homeless woman stopped
Kelly and asked her for change. Without much thought, she responded that she didn’t
[have any] and continued talking to me. I made a remark about the woman asking Kelly
for money while Kelly was at an appointment about her homelessness and she just sort of
smiled and started talking about something else.
Kelly specifically demonstrated a type of ease walking through a public space (in this case, the
Green) and although she did not necessarily interact with every person she saw, she revealed a
comfort with the possibility that she might. Clarence referenced the comfort public space could
provide when talking about an especially well-organized soup kitchen. This particular soup
kitchen mimicked a restaurant:
They serve you food. You know, they bring you your food to the table. Sit down, you got
a number at your table, little flowers on the table, stuff like that. Help them set it up early
in the morning.
Although he did not necessarily point to a specific interaction or person, he was proud to have
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 104
access to a space where relative strangers served him and treated him with respect.
Limits of Public Space Interactions
Although public space interactions were often a source of supplemental socialization,
participants also talked about their limits. For example, some participants referenced the
interference of technology in socialization. Terrence mentioned this limitation, especially with
reference to bus rides that used to be more social:
I’ll usually I’ll know most of the drivers—get on the bus. “Good morning. How are
you?” and thank ‘em when I get off the bus. Usually, there’s a few people on the bus that
I’ll know. But a lot of times, nowadays, it’s like everybody’s on their … computer, or
they’re listening to their music.
Some participants indicated that race played a factor in their interactions with strangers.
DeMarcus, as an example, challenged me at the end of one go-along interview with a homework
assignment: “Next time you walk down Broadway, look at Black Yale staff. They be in their
own space, smoking.” DeMarcus indicated that although a presumption of racial integration
existed on Yale’s campus, it rarely extended to Black New Haven residents who worked as staff
members on campus. He explained that the staff was intentionally segregated and instructed not
to interact with the students. Although I could not confirm this beyond the anecdotes he
provided, the fact that he held to this narrative as meaningful reveals that he was sensitive and
attentive to the possibilities and realities of racial tension and segregation in public.
Patrice and her husband, who had moved their tent to Ansonia when they were kicked out
of their encampment in West Haven (with Kelly and Matt), shared that they experienced
increased racial tension given the smaller proportion of Black people in Ansonia compared to
New Haven. This was especially true once Kelly and Matt, who are both White, found housing,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 105
leaving Patrice and her husband, who are both Black, alone at the new encampment. Hikers and
housed neighbors called the police on them repeatedly for having their encampment in the
woods. In fact, by the end of their time there, they had developed a rather familiar and amicable
relationship with the local police officers, who would show up in response to the calls. Inevitably
they found that Patrice and her husband were more dedicated than anybody to move out of their
meticulously kept campsite. Notably, these struggles were the result of the couple’s efforts to
construct a more durable private home in a relatively isolated piece of public space.
Familiar and Intimate Stranger Support
For many participants, strangers in public spaces were a source of support that required
little effort and did not bear the typical burdens of more intimate, two-sided relationships. As
noted, these interactions were sometimes fleeting or more casual (a simple hello or nod of
recognition) and other times the beginnings of new friendships. Participants in this study
described two primary types of supportive public space interactions: familiar strangers and
intimate strangers. Familiar strangers included individuals with whom participants regularly and
exclusively interacted in public spaces. Because they didn’t have much previous contact with
these individuals, familiar strangers generally were only familiar with details of participant’s
lives that they themselves chose to divulge. When they did choose to divulge information and
experienced a sense of support, the interactions were purely one sided in that they did not carry
the same burden of reciprocity inherent in more intimate relationships. Familiar strangers
included individuals who frequented the same spaces as participants or worked in those spaces,
like librarians and retail store clerks.
Intimate strangers, on the other hand, had greater familiarity with participants’ lives. Yet
the patterns of their interactions were still more similar to familiar strangers than family and
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 106
friends. Unlike intimate relationships as previously detailed, intimate strangers provided
nonreciprocal support and the relationships were purely one sided. Very often these intimate
strangers were aware of participants’ personal characteristics through their professional roles as
service providers, probation officers, nurses, and volunteers at treatment centers. Participants,
meanwhile, knew very little about such intimate strangers outside of their professional role.
Intimate Stranger Support
Although participants did not often map treatment spaces other than Fellowship Place,
they did reference certain providers and officers who supported them beyond the scope of their
professional requirements. Monique talked about her therapist, who she sees weekly and is a
social resource:
I really enjoy going to see my therapist. Even if I don’t have any problems or anything.
… I appreciated a lot that she allows me to unload on her. Even if I have nothing to even
unload or complain about, just to talk with her. She’s a really good person.
Monique specifically pointed to the support that her therapist is willing to provide that is not
simply in the context of her illness. Daisy similarly exhibited a less traditional interaction with
her home nurse, who comes to the house regularly to organize and administer medication. I was
with Daisy and her husband on one of the days she came to the apartment, as indicated in my
field notes:
Daisy’s nurse Patty arrived at 9:30 to fill her medication box (it was in a lock box on the
dining room table) and to give her a B12 shot. When she arrived, Daisy gave her a hug
and Patty exclaimed, “We have a baby!” Daisy responded “Ohh! Let me see! Is it a boy
or a girl?” After looking at the picture, Daisy announced, “Oh he’s been here before!
Look at those eyes! He’s been here before.” Daisy asked if I wanted to see the baby and I
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 107
told her that I saw it from where I was sitting (I could see the picture) and then Patty
turned to me and said, “She acts like it’s my son! It’s my grandson!”
…Over the course of Nurse Patty’s visit, the two of them displayed a sense of
comfort and intimacy with one another. Patty walked seamlessly between rooms as they
chatted casually about her forthcoming trip to China. Patty wanted to talk about the
arrangements she was making to have either Nurse Jen or Nurse Jess fill in for Daisy
during her absence. Daisy expressed her preference to have a nurse come during the week
regardless of which nurse it was. Before Patty left her house, Daisy asked her for a favor.
She wanted a bottle of Naprosyn (Aleve) for the spur on her foot. Patty responded, “You
know I can’t do that. But I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll give you one pill a day for the
next 7 days.”
Daisy had clearly developed a sense of comfort with Patty. Meanwhile, Patty displayed concern
for Daisy through actions that go above and beyond her role as a home nurse. For instance, she
gave Daisy agency in shaping the arrangements for her own health care while she is away. She
also found a reasonable way to help Daisy with her spur by leaving her with a limited number of
pain relievers. Perhaps, however, the most concrete evidence of support was her willingness to
engage with Daisy on issues entirely unrelated to the care she provided. They spoke of her
family and her trip to China in a way that was more friendly than professional.
Kelly recalled a soup kitchen volunteer with whom conversations often “get on the
personal side.” Although Kelly knew very little about this volunteer (during the interview, she
could not even remember her name), she talked about the volunteer’s value in providing a
listening ear: “Of I had a bad day, you know, I feel like I could share that with her or if
something good happened.” Kelly’s relationship to this volunteer began when she divulged some
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 108
intimate details of her past and why she came to the soup kitchen. Since that moment, Kelly
explained, “she’ll ask how I’m doing when I see her when she is working.” For Kelly, whose
relatively dire situation has riddled her with the risks and burdens of reciprocity with intimate
friends and family, the supportive ear of this stranger is a profoundly significant part of her
social network.
Betty Anne talked about Fellowship Place—both the treatment team and peer leaders—as
critical to helping her navigate complicated social scenes or misunderstandings because of her
mental illness:
So if someone starts trouble with me and I misunderstand or something like that, they
make sure they correct me and correct them. They keep me out of trouble. Fellowship do
the same thing. Mike, the president, he corrects me and keeps me out of trouble.
For Betty Anne, intimate strangers, familiar with her history of serious mental illness and how
symptoms can sometimes interfere with her day-to-day interactions, supported her by helping her
navigate interactions with those who are less familiar with her illness.
Grant talked about seeking a similar type of support from his Alcoholics Anonymous
(AA) community, sharing that he sought out channels of support before he even knew anyone in
his AA group:
When I first went there, I got a booklet and I walked around and got people’s numbers so
I could put a face with the number and I just started calling them. Sometimes, people
don’t pick up but you just go down the list and you call and they talk to you, actually,
what’s going on—if you need advice or … stuff like that. I’m not used to seeing a bunch
of guys like that being friendly.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 109
This is perhaps the most prevalent example of intimate stranger support beyond the confines of
this sample. Twelve-step recovery programs indeed are shaped around the type of support
proffered by relative strangers during intense moments of need. Dru, Terrence, and Maurice also
mentioned and mapped AA as a meaningful space of belonging where they found a source of
intimate support among people who were initially strangers.
In general, participants stated that regarding some of their most personal and intimate
problems, relative strangers were willing and able to help them. In part, these intimate strangers
were strategic sources of support because they were found in the context of institutions aimed at
helping them transition back into the community. However, they often went above and beyond
their institutional roles. This gave participants the sense that they were being cared for as people
rather than as cases. Because these intimate strangers knew broadly about their struggle but little
about their personal identity, they provided a source of support with which the participants could
start fresh and become something new.
Familiar Stranger Support
Like intimate strangers, participants described the same one-sided support provided by
familiar strangers. These individuals, unlike intimate strangers, knew little of participants’
identities because interactions often happened in anonymous, identity-neutral spaces. In other
words, participants met these men and women in spaces that were typically frequented by an
array of people.
Kareem described a rather profound example of a public space interaction that would
eventually develop into a regular source of support:
Some people I know outside of just being associated with them, because I buy cigarettes
down there. So we sit and talk for a minute. So after like 10 or 15 minutes or whatever—
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 110
five, 10, whatever—sometimes it varies. Sometimes I just get my cigarettes and go. But
lately I’ll sit and chitchat because I believe—because I was buying—I was doing this
routine prior to stopping and chitchatting with him. I used to just go through there and
buy my cigarettes and then continue on to where I’m going. But now I stop because
conversation, dialogue—it seems like we’re trying—there’s some type of relation taking
place here, or at least attempts where we’re talking like that.
Kareem’s story broadly referenced a circle of individuals that spends time at the same bus stop
and buys loosie cigarettes from the same individual. Gradually he became more familiar with
this scene and with the vendor himself, finding opportunities for casual chitchat. As he described
these interactions, he was somewhat hesitant to go so far as to call them a source of friendship. In
fact, there may not be a simple way to express the casual but consistent opportunities for sharing
and listening that he started to find at the bus stop cigarette scene. Not wanting his interactions
with relatively anonymous men in public to seem overly intimate, he suggested that there is
“some type of relation taking place,” a sign of vague and not yet fully articulated source of
support.
One day I observed Grant engaging in similarly supportive interactions with familiar
strangers at the library. He was applying for jobs in the public library’s computer lab alongside
other individuals doing the same. It wasn’t long before their common task became mutually
understood as they called out to one another for support and advice. At one point, one of the
other individuals in the room asked Grant if he knew the name of a place he thought was hiring.
While trying to figure this out, a third person joined in on the conversation, adding that the place
was “hiring and firing.” The three men continued a back and forth about the struggles of finding
employment with incarceration histories. Grant indicated afterward that he did not know the men
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 111
particularly well—just that he sometimes saw them at the library.
Unlike support from intimate strangers, support exchanged with familiar strangers could
work in both directions. Some participants, like Kareem and Grant, demonstrated the power of
receiving stranger support. Participants also described or demonstrated moments of providing
that same support to strangers.
When talking about going to the library, Grant described how he often talks to homeless
men and women whom he might not know well but with whom he is familiar because they go to
the library:
[We] talk about how rough it is trying to have an apartment to live at and do right when
you come home from jail. Some people when they come home don’t got nothing to do
because they not taking advantage of the programs that’s in jail that will set them up with
a house and a job.
Grant described a sense of responsibility to identify with and tell others how he was able to
escape homelessness and the burdens of incarceration.
Sheila similarly described a situation in which she talked to people who were apparently
enduring life experiences similar to the ones she experienced. She talked about sitting on the
Green with others, including some of the same people she would get high with on the Green
when she used substances. She shared that she identified with their plight: “These are people
that’s homeless. They leave the Columbus House at 5 in the morning, and they sit there all day.”
She noted that she used this opportunity to talk with them about programs and opportunities,
similar to Grant in the library: “I tell them what I’ve been through. I let them know it’s hard, but
as long as you got somebody to support you.” This exchange, although primarily one sided, had
meaning for Sheila and she was quick to note that although it appeared as if she was only giving
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 112
in that situation, she was also receiving support from these familiar strangers:
They give me not to be where they’re at no more. … Like, I see where they are, and I
want to keep what I got, because it would take a minute and I’ll lose everything. So, they
showed me that that’s not my life no more.
Providing rather than receiving support is a powerful reminder for Sheila that she is moving her
life in the right direction. In this way, giving support to and receiving support from familiar
strangers were wrapped up as part of the same interpersonal process.
DeMarcus likewise shared that he often visits the Green to spend time with the people he
would sit with when he was homeless and on the Green. Interestingly, when I asked DeMarcus to
detail the nature of their conversations, he dismissed seemingly profound conversation points as
unimportant:
Oh, we talk about nothing, just what happened on the news and bullshit that happened. I
mean, nothing important. Nothing important at all. Who got shot or who got, who got,
who went to jail yesterday, or what happened. You know, just straight—a lot of bullshit.
It ain’t nothing really important.
For DeMarcus—as in other observed and discussed situations—complex and stigmatizing social
realities had become so routine that they were referenced as insignificant. Despite the seeming
insignificance of their conversations—a point that alone would negate any semblance of stranger
support—DeMarcus introduced these familiar strangers as the people he feels most comfortable
around and the ones mostly likely to offer support if needed:
These are the people that is in their struggle, and I feel that I’m a part of them, and they
understand my story when I talk to them. You know what I’m saying? They are the ones
that if they got it, if they got a dollar, they’ll help. If I have it, I’ll help them. But those
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 113
are the ones that’s been there, done it all, and been in trouble with the law. So they pretty
much experienced.
DeMarcus never indicated that he was either friends with or interacted with these men and
women in private spaces. In fact, it appeared as if he did not even have contact information for
any of these men and women, despite the apparent closeness of their relationships. We walked
around for nearly 15 minutes, visiting the different corners of the Green before we finally found
one of his friends, who routinely sits elsewhere. For DeMarcus, these men and women were
dependable sources of understanding even if they were strangers whom he only knows in public
spaces.
Stranger support was also a feature of routine interactions with shopkeepers whom
participants relied on for specific goods. When Kelly and I visited the store where she buys her
cigarettes, one of the owners stepped out from behind the counter to give Kelly a kiss on the
cheek and chat with her. Kelly later told me that after she shared her story with the woman, she
and her husband (who together owned the store) paid Matt to fix their doors and even attempted
to find a way to house the two of them above the store. Although it didn’t work out because of a
fire hazard issue, Kelly appreciated the effort and continued to make a point of visiting them in
their store.
I observed a similar relationship between Daisy and the owner of the “pop shop” near her
home. While walking to the store, she described the storeowner to me as the person who knows
the happenings of the neighborhood, in part because police officers spend a lot of time there.
When we got to the store, Daisy talked to the storeowner, telling him about me. She encouraged
me to look through the store with much pride (it was a basic convenience store), “Look around!
You can walk through the store. See what they have!” She then told her husband to get a soda for
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 114
himself. As she was pulling her wallet out to pay, the storeowner said, “You can have it. Don’t
worry about it.” Daisy attributed this to the storeowner knowing about Tom, her husband, having
stage IV lung cancer.
Betty Anne’s relationship to the local shopkeeper, Simon, was directly related to her
mental illness:
Betty Anne: When I get my cigarettes, he controls them so I won’t spend so much money
on my tab a month.
Interviewer: How does he know to do that? Did you ask him to do that?
Betty Anne: He gives me three cigarettes in the morning, and then they give me five
cigarettes at night. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and then they give me five cigarettes at night
to pull me through the day—the night.
Interviewer: OK. So he really watches out for you.
Betty Anne: Yeah, most of these people watch out for me.
When I asked Betty Anne to tell me more about these people, she clarified that she was speaking
of strangers. In other words, Betty Anne relied on the kindness and support of familiar strangers
in public space in her everyday life. Furthermore, these sources of stranger support did not
engage in one-time acts of kindness or pity. They involved ongoing relational dynamics on
which participants depended and in relation to which they defined themselves. For Betty Anne,
the fact that somebody cared about something as mundane as her daily cigarette rhythm was a
meaningful source of support.
A couple of participants described interactions with familiar strangers that progressively
developed into familylike relationships. Patrice described a young woman whom she met on the
Green:
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 115
I don’t know, she was walking and—oh, she had a cat, a little black cat. And I was
petting the cat and we just started talking and she’s like, “I’m going to call you Mom.
You remind me of my mother.” [I] said, “OK.”
The young woman, who like Patrice was homeless and without a concrete support system,
sought the support and advice of Patrice, who was older and had survived for longer on the same
streets. Sheila similarly spoke of her relationship with a young woman and her baby whom she
met while traveling in Greece. Even in this distant country, Sheila mused, she found friends who
provided a glimmer of home and her own life: “Yeah, so every morning I get up and I got sit
with her and buy something to eat; sit with her. So I made friends that way.” For both Patrice and
Sheila, these meaningful interactions began and were sustained in public space.
Familiar and intimate strangers provided similar forms of support and yet each had
distinct advantages. With intimate strangers, participants knew that they were receiving support
from somebody with some degree of understanding about their life situation, struggle, and
identity. This meant that they were strangers who could read their behavior with a sense of
compassion and understanding of their life context. Familiar strangers, on the other hand,
provided a different opportunity. Participants could develop supportive relations wholly on their
own terms, with or without reference to any particular struggle. And so sometimes they found
support that anybody might benefit from (chitchat with a store vendor), whereas other times
familiar strangers provided support more particular to the struggles of finding housing, work, and
treatment.
Conclusion
The arc of social interaction seemed to build on of the mixed emotions embedded in
intimate relationships. Although participants often mentioned family and friends as prospects for
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 116
emotional and tangible support, they also routinely avoided these inherently risky exchanges
because of debt incurred for simple requests. At times, the significance of intimate relationships
was tied more to normalized expectations of family and friends than to the actual sense of
welcoming and support they received from them.
Strangers, whether familiar or intimate, provided opportunities to seek needed support in
less risky ways. The library worker who invested time in helping Kelly find the resources she
was looking for cared very little about the implications of her carceral and mental health
identities. Likewise, the cigarette salesman who exchanged personal stories with Kareem
allowed both to “blow off steam” or “take a load off.” The fleeting quality of their interactions
might signal something less than supportive. In fact, however, their fleeting quality was partly
what made them a strategic source of support. Because they were exclusively public space
interactions, participants would not expect a follow-up or check-in and favors could not
realistically be incorporated into their exchanges. Inevitably, these interactions would sometimes
trail off. Routine or daily exchanges could become weekly, monthly, or even be lost all together.
But without the emotional expectations of intimate relations, participants would not feel hurt and
could continue to seek stranger support elsewhere. In this way, the power of these supplemental
relationships was in their emotional, temporal, and spatial limits. When these interactions
remained in the public space and did not assume the characteristics of intimate relationships,
they became a regular source of emotional and tangible support.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 117
Chapter 5: Discussion, Implications, and Conclusions
Discussion
The goal of the study was to understand whether public spaces and interactions in those
spaces could offset the experiences of social isolation and contribute to the social integration for
ex-prisoners with mental illnesses, particularly during the reentry process. I asked participants to
elaborate on their use of space and detail the different types of connections they made in those
spaces. These questions were asked with an eye toward understanding the kinds of connections
and spaces that have greater capacity to: (a) increase or reduce recidivism; (b) hamper or
strengthen community integration; (c) encourage or offset social isolation; and (d) influence a
sense of ontological security.
Using a multimethods approach, I identified themes and patterns that in some ways
answered and in other ways challenged the questions that facilitated the data collection process.
First, public space was actually a complex, layered, and temporally changing landscape
composed of variable types of spaces and uses that did not always align with expectations. This
is evidenced by the use of the library as social space and the use of coffee shops as solitary
technology hubs. Public space was sometimes neither a destination nor a specific place. Rather it
was the path through which participants walked and spent time either on their own or with
friends. Finally, public space was both variable in its utility to participants and variably
understood by different participants. One way in which this was most prevalent was seasonal
change. New Haven is a city with harsh winters. The weather typically drops to subzero
temperatures and snowstorms are the rule rather than the exception. As a result, participants had
complicated narratives regarding which spaces were most important and provided the most
belonging and security. Depending on when I interviewed participants, they mapped the range of
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 118
spaces relevant to that season. This meant that interviews conducted in the winter may have
involved fewer green spaces or may not have included the Green, even if they might have during
warmer weather. Fortunately, the use of multiple methods ensured that even when this was the
case, the spaces could be identified through other means. Nonetheless, the impact of weather on
use of space meant that participants regularly redefined spaces of belonging and importance and
renegotiated interaction terms with strangers in those spaces. Although participants never
explicitly cited this process as hampering their community integration, some reflected on spaces
that were inaccessible during wintertime—spaces like parks and beaches—that provided critical
moments of ontological security. Ultimately, public space, or rather any space, could provide a
measure of security and belonging, a finding that challenges discourse around public space bans
or risky areas. It also, interestingly, challenges the idea that specific categories of therapeutic
landscapes exist, a finding that Walker, Hart, and Hanna (2017) uncovered in their very recent
discussion of space and mental health. My findings show that participants can be extraordinarily
creative in finding and creating supportive connections in multiple types of landscapes.
Another important finding related to how participants mapped space was how little they
mapped treatment and social services spaces, a finding supported by existing research (Smith,
Padgett, Choy-Brown, & Henwood, 2015). For example, although I exclusively interviewed
individuals with mental illness, only a few identified mental health treatment centers when
discussing the places where they spent time. Likewise, although many participants visited soup
kitchens and often discussed them in their interviews, they rarely included them in their maps.
One might infer that this is related to the types of services each space provided. During the peer
debriefing process, a peer noted that this finding aligned with her own experience. She explained
that treatment and social services spaces provided “survival skills.” In other words, when asked
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 119
where they spend their time, participants did not think of places that moved them through life in
a purely functional way (e.g., eating, sleeping, etc.), but rather places where they paused and
chose to quite literally spend time because of personal preference rather than pure necessity.
Fellowship Place was the sole exception to this finding. When they included it in their map,
however, they emphasized the sociable interactions (e.g., the games they played in the clubhouse
or the people they hung out with at the Inn or CREST) rather than the services received at the
clubhouse as part of their activity routines.
There is a tendency in community integration research to define community as either
mental health related or as the broader community at large. When prompted to narrate their
everyday experiences, however, participants did not share a similarly bifurcated expression of
community. Indeed, community was more likely a blend of different spaces, people, and
identities at different moments. At the Green, depending on the day, a person could be spending
time with known friends from AA or with familiar strangers from the soup kitchen. A bus ride
could results in run-ins with old prison friends. The grocery store might be an opportunity to tell
a total stranger a story of faith and church participation. In this way, they weaved together a
sense of community that was more fluid and geographically dispersed than integration research
typically appreciates.
Although public space provided important sites for community, participants often
identified ontological security as a feature of private spaces like homes (Dupuis & Thorns, 1998;
Hiscock et al., 2001; Padgett, 2007; Smith et al., 2015). However, participants identified some
markers and interactions of ontological security as present in public space as well. Many of the
participants in the study were homeless, transient, or transitionally housed. This meant the
typical benefits of private spaces—namely the privacy inherent in private space—were not
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 120
available to them. To cope with this loss, participants assigned new meanings to public spaces. In
some ways, because of its predictability over time, the Green was a source of ontological
security. For many participants, it provided space for both routine activities and reflection,
meditation, and identity construction. That said, the Green was hardly free of control and
surveillance. The presence of routine police encounters and ambulance sirens meant that
participants were aware of the presence of agents of social control when spending time on the
Green.
Participants cited other spaces that had some of the markers of ontological security, if not
all of them. Parks and beaches, Fellowship Place, AA meetings, and the library all provided
some participants with a meaningful sense of security. Participants also talked about walking or
taking the bus as opportunities for comfort and security. Although conversations about
ontological security and public space were not perfect in that public space was rarely a complete
source of security, on the whole it provided the participants more overall security and comfort
than did private space, a finding supported by existing research (Beckett & Herbert, 2010). This
result was likely the product of the instability of their intimate relationships and private spaces.
Part of the emergence of participants’ ontological security involved their changing
perceptions of self, which they directly attributed to their institutionalization. The sample had a
long history of both prison incarcerations and psychiatric hospitalizations. In some cases,
participants also referenced the involvement of other institutions, including the foster care
system. No matter the institution, however, the participants were influenced and sometimes
hampered by its long-term impacts. This meant that an important part of the reentry process was
navigating their way out of the identities assigned by these institutions. This finding is well
conceptualized in past literature (Boydell, Goering, & Morrell-Bellai, 2000), including Parr’s
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 121
(2008) discourse on mental health and space. The identity transformation process was often
reflected and sometimes filtered through interactions with others. Indeed, how participants saw
themselves influenced how they interacted with others. Furthermore, how others saw participants
influenced how they saw themselves. This was most notable with regard to the difficulty
escaping assigned incarceration and mental health identities. Anonymity sometimes felt like a
futile goal—especially as participants attempted to renavigate old relationships and spaces. That
said, as futile as it sometimes seemed, there was evidence of redemption and many participants
referenced opportunities to start fresh. Public space and stranger interactions could be especially
productive in that process.
Efforts to start over required relatively anonymous spaces or otherwise forgiving
audiences. Although there were certainly examples of the latter among family and friends (e.g.,
Luis and Betty Anne), they were rare. One of the more nuanced findings—and one that is well
supported by existing literature on individuals with incarceration histories and serious mental
illnesses—was that intimate relationships were sources of complicated support (Chen, 2010;
Martinez & Christian, 2008; Padgett, Henwood, Abrams, & Drake, 2008). Granovetter (1973)
conceptualized a strength of weak ties wherein distal support is a significant source of tangible
support. In this study, however, we found that participants more commonly experienced a
weakness of strong ties wherein proximal supports broke down, leaving participants to fend for
themselves. This was expressed both through the burden of engaging in intimate relationships
and the risks of reciprocity associated with them. Family and friends were easy sources of
support in that they were known, present, and available. They were also the reasons many of the
participants ended up in prison in the first place. Some of them still used or sold illicit
substances. Others resented the participants for the burdens created by their incarceration. These
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 122
family members had often given up on the participants and found it easier to avoid interacting
with them all together. No matter the source of the burden, however, many of these relationships
made it difficult for the participants to engage in healthy interactions with family and friends.
Almost immediately upon community reentry, participants’ found their networks much smaller
than what they had expected based on their life before institutionalization.
One of the other ways in which the burdens of intimacy were expressed was through the
risks of reciprocity. Reciprocity is a natural part of intimate relationships. It is often an
expectation on both ends—individuals expect to give as much as they expect to receive (Wong et
al., 2011). These expectations, however, seemed to be so deeply rooted in everyday interactions
with family and friends that every moment of interaction was tainted by an expectation of
reciprocity, a finding that is supported by the literature (Barrenger & Draine, 2013; Martinez &
Christian, 2008). Just by interacting, participants were accruing debt or obligations. Every ounce
of emotional or material support was logged and then recounted when the intimate family
member or friend suddenly had an unmet need of his or her own. This risk of reciprocity meant
that participants would occasionally avoid interacting with intimate supports, especially if they
could take care of their own needs or address those needs through familiar and intimate strangers
who expected nothing in return.
This last point is perhaps the most profound and unexpected finding in this study.
Although the literature has suggested that public space interactions and distal supports can lead
to a degree of integration, a sense of belonging, and a supply of tangible support (Cattell et al.,
2008; Desmond, 2012; Francis et al., 2012; Fields, 2011; Kloos & Townley, 2011; Wieland et
al., 2007), participants recalled emotional depth and support in describing public space
interactions. Participants spoke of familiar strangers and intimate strangers—often individuals
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 123
with whom they only interacted in public spaces—for their listening ears, their generous hearts,
and their patient and selfless advice. For some participants, they were their most honest selves
around these individuals, revealing intimate details about their pasts and their present needs.
Research has delved into the significance of unknown others in supporting strangers. However,
that support is often contingent on anonymity (Cavan, 1966) or expressed through tangible
support (Wieland et al., 2007). Townley and colleagues (2013) found that distal support for
individuals with mental illnesses included “empathic listening and reassurance,” although they
also found that tangible support was more common. This study drew on the work of Jane Jacobs
(1961) who observed that the anonymity of urban interactions vis-à-vis sidewalk interactions
facilitated a certain charm and a kind of sociability. For participants in this study, however,
anonymity was not just a form of sociability, but rather a resource for identity construction.
Participants seemed to value less their anonymity in stranger interactions and more the
opportunity to control which identities were known by whom and in what places. In this study,
participants divulged their most personal details to familiar and intimate strangers whom they
saw regularly and were not traditionally ‘anonymous.’
In this study, public space interactions often followed a narrative arc (see Figure 7). First,
participants would test the waters, learning whom, how, and when to interact with strangers. This
was a process that they sometimes failed, but they would often reengage with either the same
people or different people. Then participants developed rapport with certain strangers (familiar
or intimate). This rapport was generally superficial but provided a foundation of stability and
security, particularly in public spaces occupied by strangers. Next, either by continuing to build
that rapport or through some moment that crystallized care or concern, rapport became trust and
chitchat became intimate conversation.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 124
Figure 7: Public Space Interaction Narrative Arc

At this point, the interaction often forked. For some, familiar strangers morphed into
close friends and therefore carried the burdens of friendship and the risks of reciprocity required
of intimate friendships (see also Desmond, 2012, p. 1318 on “burning ties”). But for others, these
familiar strangers remained familiar strangers and their regular provisions of support were
alternative sources of emotional and tangible support. In some ways, it seemed, capably
sustaining this latter type of relationship provided participants with a way to escape the
emotional burdens of their intimate relationships. It seems likely that the most successfully
reintegrated individuals will have managed to foster a healthy balance of intimate relations,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 125
intimate strangers, and familiar strangers, each providing its own quality and rhythm of
meaningful social support. This narrative arc, in some ways, mirrors Desmond’s (2012) work on
disposable ties, though with a heavier emphasis on the ongoing emotionally supportive
exchanges of these relationships and less on the tangible resource exchange that often takes place
among individuals living in poverty.
Although this study broadly focused on the reentry experiences of ex-prisoners with
mental illness, the subfocus on community tenure allowed for a deeper understanding of the
implications of public space and public space interactions. In comparing the successes and
failures of both groups, I gained a better understanding of how the length of time both in and out
of a carceral institution shaped the way participants integrated into their communities,
neighborhoods, and public spaces. For example, participants who had been out longer had more
patterned and specific hangout spaces. Those who had been out longer spoke less of the
significance of the Green as a social space and spoke more of retail spaces—clothing stores,
dollar stores, malls, and salons. One possible reason for this finding is that participants who had
only recently been released from prison were still trying to figure out what their lives outside of
prison looked like, whereas those who had been out longer had already established routines of
living. The Green was a familiar space because of the role it played for many of these men and
women before they were incarcerated. More than any other space in the city, the Green provided
a sense of open access where recently released individuals could go and get caught up on news
about what others were up to. It was the first place they knew to return to and it was the place
that, in some ways, was most predictable no matter how long they had been away.
Gradually, however, those who had been out longer seemed to stray from the
predictability of the Green, indicating that once they knew better, the Green offered little more
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 126
than high risks and drug use. In some ways, this is also evidenced in how these more established
participants talked about belonging as a feature of private space (e.g., their homes or the homes
of family and friends). This finding brings to the fore one major distinction between newly
released ex-prisoners and more settled ex-prisoners: housing. Housing was a tenuous resource
for most of the participants in the study, but especially for participants who had only been
released during the prior 3 years. If not completely homeless (i.e., without even a couch to sleep
on), many of these participants were transient—moving from favor to favor, relying on the often-
loaded generosity of others to stay warm and housed. This meant that the so-called private spaces
they occupied were in some ways more public than the public spaces they laid claim to during
their walks or meditative stops. This is a reflection of Lofland’s (1973) conceptualization of
publicness as defined by patterns of interaction and qualities of relationships.
Interestingly, despite the intentional subsampling of more and less socially isolated
participants for ethnographic shadowing, more patterns of similarity than difference existed
between the two social extremes. Some differences between specific participants, although not
consistent across the sample, helped frame social isolation in the study. Matt and Kelly, for
example, sat on opposite ends of the social isolation spectrum, with Matt expressing less
isolation and Kelly expressing more. Nonetheless, during our go-along interviews, it was often
Kelly who would interact with others. One possible explanation for this unexpected expression
of isolation is that Kelly, who felt more isolated, was also more vested in changing that reality.
Matt, on the other hand, was interacting from a position of less social need. Another possible
explanation for the difference, especially as it relates to Kelly, is in the difference between how
she viewed herself and her true identity. Kelly may have responded to the survey with a critical
eye of self-reflection that communicated her deepest fears and troubles. As she gave her survey
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 127
responses, she also qualified them as a mere product of current and hopefully fleeting life
circumstances. At the same time, she had committed herself to making positive changes in her
life that allowed her to see herself as somebody worthy of social connection and contact.
Walking through familiar public spaces, she was no longer reflecting on her problems but
enacting a sociable and bubbly personality. In fact, that very personality and pattern of
interaction had been a meaningful part of her identity before incarceration put that sense of
herself at risk. At the very least, this disparity between Matt and Kelly points to the importance
of understanding that research participants may be living different lives and patterns of
interaction than they are able to summarize and articulate for service providers and researchers.
Tensions between what participants do and what they say might serve as a call for more
participatory, go-along, and ethnographic methods.
Social Work Implications
The fluidity of space and more specifically the fluid relationship between public and
private space presents an opportunity for social workers. Rather than the more typical shield-and-
protect framework inherent in supportive communities that mimic the lives and resources of the
general, “normal” community (Bromage, Kriegel, Williamson, Maclean & Rowe, in press;
Rowe, 1999), social workers might engage more community-based, in vivo support through a
try-and-fail framework, in which clients rely on social work support to learn how to navigate
sometimes risky but potentially fruitful public spaces. If social workers rely too much on the
comfort and support provided in service centers and community institutions, they might be
stunting the growth of skills that participants need to navigate and get along in the public
landscape.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 128
In addition, the greater likelihood of more settled ex-prisoners to name homes or the
mental health social club as places of belonging hints at the larger system’s orientation toward
mental health recovery and successful reentry. Monique talked about this in her interview—
saying that her program advisors instructed her to keep out of public spaces like the Green and
the library and to avoid others who might promote more antisocial behaviors. These same types
of directives might encourage clients to stay at home, to seek relations only with those whom
they already know to be safe, or to rely more on mental health communities. Although this
orientation may be productive in the short run, given the identified differences between the two
groups in this study, it also removes what appears to be a beneficial support system from clients
of mental health and criminal justice programs. Our view of the risks of public spaces should be
balanced with an appreciation of their possible benefits, in addition to some of the risks and
burdens of private spaces and intimate relations. In some ways, we might consider applying a
harm reduction approach not merely to risky behaviors, but simply to the use of public spaces
that are often considered risky as well.
Notably, participants who had been out longer may have mapped belonging in private
spaces, but they also shared stories of belonging in public spaces and with familiar strangers. In
some ways, there seemed to be a disconnection between their curated description of belonging
and their free-flowing dialogue about it. Kareem’s relationship with his cigarette vendor is
evidence of this disconnection. His description of this budding friendship was rather strained and
he seemed to talk around the support and interaction that he pointed to as increasingly profound.
It is as if Kareem knew not to characterize this interaction as a friendship, but also that the
interaction is providing something bigger than a daily loosie. By suppressing the positive aspects
of public space and public space interactions and characterizing each through their negative,
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 129
more criminal features, social service providers also risk suppressing their clients’ agency in
identifying moments of budding support and friendship. In this way, it is extremely important for
service providers not to become overly controlling about what properly counts as supportive and
healthy relationships in the lives of their clients. A vocabulary that ignores such emergent forms
of public support may cut clients off from an appreciation of their possible benefits. Although
my findings indicate that familiar and intimate strangers provide quite a bit of emotional and
tangible support, further research might help to elucidate whether these same people serve an
even greater purpose in helping to intervene. As an example, can these strangers be a resource in
outreach?
For many of the participants, public space interactions provided relatively risk-free means
of socially engagement. Many were comfortable in their knowledge of how to minimize the
kinds of risks that service providers typically worry about. They knew whom to avoid and when
unable to avoid them, they knew how to interact with people engaging in risky behaviors. This
particular finding is especially significant given the role mental health providers have historically
played in supporting their clients. When permitted the opportunity to explore public space, test
interactions, and sometimes fail, participants (particularly those who had built-in support
systems) would try again, often with greater success.
To this end, the narrative arc illustrated in Figure 7 highlights two opportunities for
providers to shift their focus and empower their clients. First, providers can support the
interaction-testing phase of the arc, as previously noted. Second, providers can support clients as
they navigate the fork at the arc’s end, choosing between friendship (and potential burden of
debt) and familiar stranger interaction (with less loyalty and intimate contact). This can mean
helping clients differentiate between people who might be worth an increased investment in time
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 130
and emotional energy and those who might be better maintained as supportive familiar strangers.
This research suggests that participants would do well to achieve a healthy balance between
these relationship types and that service providers might become more attuned to helping them
achieve that balance.
The primary inhibitor for providers, it seems, is risk. Risk as a concept is inherently
tricky and often subjective. And public space and the interactions within are often framed as
risky. Supporting these interactions means supporting client agency and clients’ abilities to
reasonably identify and assess risk (even if they do not always manage it with ease). For
providers, this also means understanding that avoiding every potential risk is itself risky.
Preventing social interactions with others who have survived similarly vulnerable and antisocial
experiences might mean preventing two chess players from playing a competitive, nonrisky, and
noncriminal game of chess. At times, this might mean even trusting a client’s judgment about the
benefits of socializing with familiar strangers who engage in criminal, risky, and unhealthy
behaviors. Doing so means providers must be willing to accept new obligations to monitor and
manage the subsequent risk of clients who are trying out interactions with familiar strangers
(Ponce, Clayton, Gambino, & Rowe, 2016).
Identity in this study often mapped onto the work of Snow and Anderson (1987, 1993),
who sought to understand how behavior implicated meaningful identities expressed by
participants rather than identities assigned by others. Although individuals in this study often
lived with mental health and carceral identities assigned by treatment providers, friends, and
family, they did not necessarily express those identities in their day-to-day experiences. Rather
they expressed identities unique to their life stories. Kelly is a writer. Matt is a handyman. Pedro
is an artist. Ray is a salesman. Daisy is a people person. Reggie is an observer. DeMarcus is an
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 131
avid reader. Amos is a pick-up chess player. For each of these participants, their most successful
social interactions were often a product of their expressed identities. Given the challenges
embedded in their private and intimate spheres, public space often afforded the sole opportunities
to express and revel in those versions of self. Kelly sought advice and support from poetry
volunteers and library workers. Ray relied on an old acquaintance who legally sold fragrant oils
to sell his own goods. Amos frequented the library and played pick-up chess with other like-
minded chess players.
Limitations
The study had number of significant limitations. First and foremost, the design was cross-
sectional and nonexperimental, limiting both assertions of causality and generalizability of
findings. Further, the study was conducted in New Haven, a mid-size city in the Northeastern
United States with unique characteristics. Another limitation involved self-report of mental
health diagnoses. While the precise diagnoses were not verified, the inclusion of additional
questions on mental health histories, including current treatment and past hospitalizations, helped
to verify actual existence of a mental illness. Although use of multiple methods ensured
triangulation of data, the primary use of qualitative methods resulted in a smaller sample and
limited the generalizability of any analysis. Great care was taken to ensure rigor of data through
the use of co-coders and consultation with peers in the community; however, qualitative data
provide a mere glimpse into a larger existing phenomenon. Use of phenomenological and
participatory methods, however, permitted participants to tell their story on their own terms, thus
minimizing the influence of the researcher during both data collection and analysis. In addition,
because the study was exploratory, the focus was more on identifying possible sources of support
rather than explaining the factors involved in developing such support. I thus did not make a
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 132
systematic effort to explain why some participants developed these types of support whereas
others did not, but I hope that noting its significance as an everyday feature of participants’ lives
will encourage future research into similar settings and interactions.
Conclusion
For participants in this study, public space was a central feature of their lives. Even in the
course of a daily routine spent moving from place to place or appointment to appointment, public
space was more than a passive medium. The people they met in public space—at parks and
libraries, mental health clubs, and coffee shops—became steady sources of both emotional and
tangible support, counterbalancing the often less stable support sought from intimate
relationships in private spaces. Public space, in some moments, even seemed to mirror the
comfort of a living room. When drunken strangers on nearby benches shouted inappropriate
remarks, participants could see them more like the inappropriate but ultimately harmless remarks
of family members around a kitchen table.
Perhaps the most important lesson imparted by the men and women I spoke with was
how relationship boundaries powered these interactions outside their homes. They valued the
unique role that familiar strangers played outside their more intimate lives. They valued the
functional utility and social depth of their everyday experiences at the local rundown park,
minimally resourced library, barren Dunkin; Donuts, and risky city block. For the men and
women I spoke with, public space provided a unique social opportunity—an opportunity not
meant for the inside, private sphere. Perhaps Daisy herself said it best:
So that’s why … I, we, need people. Well, oh my God, with a lot of people you could
have a conversation or anything. I could go on the Green and sit. I’d meet people there.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 133
On the bus I meet people. I’m a people person, but as far as them coming to my house
and stuff, you gotta be careful who you bring to your house.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 134
Bibliography
Abraham, M., & Buchanan, M. (2016). Greater New Haven community index. New Haven, CT:
DataHaven. Retrieved from
http://www.ctdatahaven.org/sites/ctdatahaven/files/DataHaven_GNH_Community_Index
.pdf
Anderson, E. (1978). A place on the corner (2nd ed.). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Anderson, E. (2011). The cosmopolitan canopy: Race and civility in everyday life. New York,
NY: W. W. Norton & Company.
Arendt, H. (1958). The human condition. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.
Baillargeon, J., Binswanger, I. A., Penn, J. V., Williams, B. A., & Murray, O. J. (2009).
Psychiatric disorders and repeat incarcerations: The revolving prison door. American
Journal of Psychiatry, 166, 103–109. doi:10.1176/appi.ajp.2008.08030416
Bales, W. D., & Mears, D. P. (2008). Inmate social ties and the transition to society: Does
visitation reduce recidivism? Journal of Research in Crime and Delinquency, 45, 287–
321. doi:10.1177/0022427808317574
Barrenger, S. L., & Draine, J. (2013). “You don’t get no help”: The role of community context in
effectiveness of evidence-based treatments for people with mental illness leaving prison
for high risk environments. American Journal of Psychiatric Rehabilitation, 16, 154–178.
doi:10.1080/15487768.2013.789709
Baumann, A. E. (2007). Stigmatization, social distance and exclusion because of mental illness:
The individual with mental illness as a ‘stranger.’ International Review of Psychiatry, 19,
131–135. doi:10.1080/09540260701278739
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 135
Beckett, K., & Herbert, S. (2010). Penal boundaries: Banishment and the expansion of
punishment. Law & Social Inquiry, 35, 1–38. doi:10.1111/j.1747-4469.2009.01176.x
Bellamy, C. D. (2005). From abandonment to inclusion: Recovering from psychiatric illnesses
using possible selves [Doctoral dissertation]. Available from ProQuest Dissertations and
Theses database. (No. 3163751)
Blake, H. T. (1898). Chronicles of New Haven Green from 1638 to 1862: A series of papers read
before the New Haven Colony Historical Society. New Haven, CT: Tuttle, Morehouse &
Taylor Press.
Boydell, K. M., Goering, P., Morrell-Bellai, T. L. (2000). Narratives of identity: Re-presentation
of self in people who are homeless. Qualitative Health Research, 10, 26–38.
doi:10.1177/104973200129118228
Brandt, A. L. S. (2012). Treatment of persons with mental illness in the criminal justice system:
A literature review. Journal of Offender Rehabilitation, 51, 541–558.
doi:10.1080/10509674.2012.693902
Bromage, W., Kriegel, L. S., Williamson, B., Maclean, K. & Rowe, M. (in press). Project
Connect: A community intervention for individuals with serious mental illness. American
Journal of Psychiatric Rehabilitation.
Burnett, R., & Maruna, S. (2006). The kindness of prisoners: Strengths-based resettlement in
theory and in action. Criminology & Criminal Justice, 6, 83–106.
doi:10.1177/1748895806060668
Castillo, E. D., & Alarid, L. F. (2011). Factors associated with recidivism among offenders with
mental illness. International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology,
55, 98–117. doi:10.1177/0306624X09359502
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 136
Cattell, V., Dines, N., Gesler, W., & Curtis, S. (2008). Mingling, observing, and lingering:
Everyday public spaces and their implications for well-being and social relations. Health
& Place, 14, 544–561. doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2007.10.007
Cavan, S. (1966). Liquor license: An ethnography of bar behavior. Chicago, IL: Aldine.
Chen, F.-P. (2010). Assisting adults with severe mental illness in transitioning from parental
homes to independent living. Community Mental Health Journal, 46, 372–380.
doi:10.1007/s10597-009-9263-y
Cloyes, K. G., Wong, B., Latimer, S., & Abarca, J. (2010). Time to prison return for offenders
with serious mental illness released from prison: A survival analysis. Criminal Justice
and Behavior, 37, 175–187. doi:10.1177/0093854809354370
Council on Southeast Asia Studies. (n.d.). Yale campus map: Luce Hall and south to Chapel
Street. Retrieved from Yale University website: http://cseas.yale.edu/yale-campus-map-0
Crabtree, B. F., & Miller, W. L. (1999). Using codes and code manuals: A template organizing
style of interpretation. In B. F. Crabtree & W. L. Miller (Eds.), Doing qualitative
research (2nd ed., pp. 163–177). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Cresswell, J. W. (2007). Qualitative inquiry and research design (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Cuddeback, G. S., Scheyett, A, Pettus-Davis, C., & Morrissey, J. P. (2010). General medical
problems of incarcerated persons with severe and persistent mental illness: A population-
based study. Psychiatric Services, 61, 45–49. doi:10.1176/ps.2010.61.1.45
Davis, L., & Brekke, J. S. (2013). Social networks and arrest among persons with severe mental
illness: An exploratory analysis. Psychiatric Services, 64, 1274–1277.
doi:10.1176/appi.ps.201200443
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 137
Dear, M. J., & Wolch, J. R. (1987). Landscapes of despair: From deinstitutionalization to
homelessness. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
DeLand, M. F. (2014). Who’s got next? Social integration at a public park basketball court
(Doctoral dissertation). Available from ProQuest Dissertations and Theses database. (No.
3633010)
Desmond, M. (2012). Disposable ties and the urban poor. American Journal of Sociology,
117(5), 1295-1335.. doi: 10.1086/663574
DeStefano, J., Jr., & Murphy, K. (Summer 2013). New Haven economic development official
statement. Retrieved from
http://www.cityofnewhaven.com/uploads/NewHavenOfficialStatement2013.pdf
Draine, J., & Herman, D. B. (2007). Critical Time Intervention for reentry from prison for
persons with mental illness. Psychiatric Services, 58, 1577–1581.
doi:10.1176/ps.2007.58.12.1577
Draine, J., Wolff, N., Jacoby, J. E., Hartwell, S., & Duclos, C. (2005). Understanding community
re-entry of former prisoners with mental illness: A conceptual model to guide new
research. Behavioral Sciences & the Law, 23, 689–707. doi:10.1002/bsl.642
Duneier, M. (1992). Slim’s table: Race, respectability, and masculinity. Chicago, IL: University
of Chicago Press.
Duneier, M. (1999). Sidewalk. New York, NY: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Duneier, M., & Molotch, H. (1999). Talking city trouble: Interactional vandalism, social
inequality, and the “urban interaction Problem.” American Journal of Sociology, 104,
1263–1295. doi:10.1086/210175
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 138
Dupuis, A., & Thorns, D. C. (1998). Home, home ownership and the search for ontological
security. Sociological Review, 46, 24–47. doi:10.1111/1467-954X.00088
Durose, M. R., Cooper, A. D., & Snyder, H. N. (2014). Recidivism of prisoners released in 30
states in 2005: Patterns from 2005 to 2010 (NCJ Pub. No. 244205). Washington, DC:
U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice Statistics.
Epperson, M. W., Wolff, N., Morgan, R. D., Fisher, W. H., Frueh, B. C., & Huening, J. (2014).
Envisioning the next generation of behavioral health and criminal justice interventions.
International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, 37, 427–438.
doi:10.1016/j.ijlp.2014.02.015
Feldman, D. B., & Crandall, C. S. (2007). Dimensions of mental illness stigma: What about
mental illness causes social rejection? Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 26,
137–154. doi:10.1521/jscp.2007.26.2.137
Fields, D. (2011). Emotional refuge? Dynamics of place and belonging among formerly
homeless individuals with mental illness. Emotion, Space and Society, 4, 258–267.
doi:10.1016/j.emospa.2010.09.002
Francis, J., Giles-Corti, B., Wood, L., & Knuiman, M. (2012). Creating sense of community: The
role of public space. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 32, 401–409.
doi:10.1016/j.jenvp.2012.07.002
Gardner, C. B. (1995). Passing by: Gender and public harassment. Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press.
Gesler, W. M. (1992). Therapeutic landscapes: Medical issues in light of the new cultural
geography. Social Science & Medicine, 34, 735–746. doi:10.1016/0277-9536(92)90360-3
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 139
Giddens, A. (1991). Modernity and self-identity: Self and society in the late modern age.
Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.
Glaze, L. E., & Herberman, E. J. (2013) Correctional populations in the United States, 2012
(NCJ Pub. No. 243936). Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice
Statistics.
Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma: Notes on the management of spoiled identity. New York, NY:
Simon & Schuster.
Granovetter, M. S. (1973). The strength of weak ties. American Journal of Sociology, 78, 1360–
1380. doi:10.1086/225469
Hartwell, S. (2004). Triple stigma: Persons with mental illness and substance abuse problems in
the criminal justice system. Criminal Justice Policy Review, 15, 84–99.
doi:10.1177/0887403403255064
Henning, C., & Lieberg, M. (1996). Strong ties or weak ties? Neighbourhood networks in a new
perspective. Scandinavian Housing and Planning Research, 13, 3–26.
doi:10.1080/02815739608730394
Hiscock, R., Kearns, A., MacIntyre, S. & Ellaway, A. (2001). Ontological security and psycho-
social benefits from the home: Qualitative evidence on issues of tenure. Housing, Theory
and Society, 18, 50–66. doi:10.1080/14036090120617
Hochstetler, A., DeLisi, M., & Pratt, T. C. (2010). Social support and feelings of hostility among
released inmates. Crime & Delinquency, 56, 588–607. doi:10.1177/0011128708319926
Husserl, E. (1931). Ideas: General introduction to pure phenomenology (W. R. Boyce Gibson,
Trans.). New York, NY: Collier.
Jacobs, J. (1961). The death and life of great American cities. New York, NY: Random House.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 140
Jacoby, J. E., & Kozie-Peak, B. (1997). The benefits of social support for mentally ill offenders:
Prison-to-community transitions. Behavioral Sciences & the Law, 15, 483–502.
doi:10.1002/(SICI)1099-0798(199723/09)15:4<483::AID-BSL280>3.0.CO;2-F
James, D. J., & Glaze, L. E. (2006). Mental health problems of prison and jail inmates (NCJ
Pub. No. 213600). Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Justice, Bureau of Justice
Statistics.
Kanis, B. (2009). The Vulnerability Index resource. Retrieved from
http://100khomes.org/resources/the-vulnerability-index
Kenen, R. (1982). Soapsuds, space, and sociability: A participant observation of the Laundromat.
Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 11, 163–183. doi:10.1177/089124168201100202
King, N. (1998). Template analysis. In G. Symon & C. Cassell (Eds.), Qualitative methods and
analysis in organizational research (pp. 118–134). London, United Kingdom: Sage.
Kloos, B., & Townley, G. (2011). Investigating the relationship between neighborhood
experiences and psychiatric distress for individuals with serious mental illness.
Administration and Policy in Mental Health and Mental Health Services Research, 38,
105–116. doi:10.1007/s10488-010-0307-y
Kriegel, L. S., Hsu, H.-T., & Wenzel, S. L. (2015). Personal networks: A hypothesized mediator
in the association between incarceration and HIV risk behaviors among women with
histories of homelessness. Journal of the Society for Social Work and Research, 6, 407–
432. doi:10.1086/682585
Kupers, T. A. (2006). How to create madness in prison. In D. Jones (Ed.), Humane prisons (pp.
47–57). Abingdon, United Kingdom: Radcliffe.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 141
Kusenbach, M. (2003). Street phenomenology: The go-along as ethnographic research tool.
Ethnography, 4, 455–485. doi:10.1177/146613810343007
Laing, R. D. (1969). The divided self. New York, NY: Pantheon Books.
Leverentz, A. (2010). People, places, and things: How female ex-prisoners negotiate their
neighborhood context. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 39, 646–681.
doi:10.1177/0891241610377787
Leyden, K. M. (2003). Social capital and the built environment: The importance of walkable
neighborhoods. American Journal of Public Health, 93, 1546–1551.
doi:10.2105/AJPH.93.9.1546
Lin, N. (2001). Social capital: A theory of social structure and action. New York, NY:
Cambridge University Press.
Link, B. G., Phelan, J. C., Bresnahan, M., Stueve, A., & Pescosolido, B. A. (1999). Public
conceptions of mental illness: Labels, causes, dangerousness, and social distance.
American Journal of Public Health, 89, 1328–1333. doi:10.2105/AJPH.89.9.1328
Lofland, L. H. (1973). A world of strangers: order and action in urban public space. New York,
NY: Basic Books.
Lofland, L. H. (1998). The public realm: Exploring the city’s quintessential social territory.
Piscataway, NJ: Transaction.
Low, S. M., Taplin, D., & Scheld, S. (2005). Rethinking urban parks: Public space & cultural
diversity. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press.
MacMillan, T., & Bailey, M. (2012, October 30). Skeletal remains found in upended tree; the
death investigator exhumes skull. New Haven Independent. Retrieved from
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 142
http://www.newhavenindependent.org/index.php/archives/entry/skeleton_found_in_upen
ded_tree_on_green/
Martin, M. S. Dorken, S. K., Wamboldt, A. D., & Wootten, S. E. (2012). Stopping the revolving
door: A meta-analysis on the effectiveness of interventions for criminally involved
individuals with major mental disorders. Law and Human Behavior, 36, 1–12.
doi:10.1037/h0093963
Martinez, D. J., & Christian, J. (2008). The familial relationships of former prisoners: Examining
the link between residence and informal support mechanisms. Journal of Contemporary
Ethnography, 38, 201–224. doi:10.1177/0891241608316875
Maruna, S. (2001). Making good: How ex-convicts reform and rebuild their lives. Washington,
DC: American Psychological Association.
Maruna, S. (2014). Reintegration as a right and the rites of reintegration: A comparative review
of de-stigmatization practices. In J. A. Humphrey & P. Cordella (Eds.), Effective
interventions in the lives of criminal offenders (pp. 121–138). New York, NY: Springer.
Mauer, M., & Chesney-Lind, M. (Eds.). (2002). Invisible punishment: The collateral
consequences of mass imprisonment. New York, NY: New Press.
Mears, D. P., Wang, X., Hay, C., & Bales, W. D. (2008). Social ecology and recidivism:
Implications for prisoner reentry. Criminology, 46, 301–340. doi:10.1111/j.1745-
9125.2008.00111.x
Milgram, S. (1977). The individual in a social world: Essays and experiments. Reading, MA:
Addison-Wesley.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 143
Mitchell, D. (1995). The end of public space? People’s park, definitions of the public, and
democracy. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 85, 108–133.
doi:10.1111/j.1467-8306.1995.tb01797.x
Morrill, C., Snow, D. A., & White, C. H. (2005). Together alone: Personal relationships in
public place. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Moustakas, C. (1994). Phenomenological research methods. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Neal, Z. P. (2010). Locating public space. In A. M. Orum & Z. P. Neal (Eds.), Common ground?
Readings and reflections on public space (pp. 1–10). New York, NY: Routledge.
Norman, C. (2006). The Fountain House movement, an alternative rehabilitation model for
people with mental health problems, members’ descriptions of what works. Scandinavian
Journal of Caring Sciences, 20, 184–192. doi:10.1111/j.1471-6712.2006.00398.x
O’Keefe, M. L. (2007). Administrative segregation for mentally ill inmates. Journal of Offender
Rehabilitation, 45, 149–165. doi:10.1300/J076v45n01_11
Oldenburg, R. (1989). The great good place: Cafes, coffee shops, community centers, beauty
parlors, general stores, bars, hangouts & how they get you through the day. New York,
NY: Paragon House.
Padgett, D. K. (2007). There’s no place like (a) home: Ontological security among persons with
serious mental illness in the United States. Social Science & Medicine, 64, 1925–1936.
doi:10.1016/j.socscimed.2007.02.011
Padgett, D. K. (2012). Qualitative and mixed methods in public health. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Padgett, D. K., Henwood, B., Abrams, C., & Drake, R. E. (2008). Social relationships among
persons who have experienced serious mental illness, substance abuse, and homelessness:
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 144
Implications for recovery. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 78, 333–339.
doi:10.1037/a0014155
Palinkas, L. A., Horwitz, S. M., Chamberlain, P., Hurlburt, M. S., & Landsverk, J. (2011).
Mixed-methods designs in mental health services research: A review. Psychiatric
Services, 62, 255–263. doi:10.1176/ps.62.3.pss6203_0255
Parker, B. (2006). Constructing community through maps? Power and praxis in community
mapping. Professional Geographer, 58, 470–484. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9272.2006.00583.x
Parr, H. (2008). Mental health and social space: Towards inclusionary geographies? Malden,
MA: Blackwell.
Pettus-Davis, C., Howard, M. O., Roberts-Lewis, A., & Scheyett, A. M. (2011). Naturally
occurring social support in interventions for former prisoners with substance use
disorders: Conceptual framework and program model. Journal of Criminal Justice, 39,
479–488. doi:10.1016/j.jcrimjus.2011.09.002
Pinfold, V. (2000). ‘Building up safe havens … all around the world’: Users’ experiences of
living in the community with mental health problems. Health & Place, 6, 201–212.
doi:10.1016/S1353-8292(00)00023-X
Ponce, A. N., Clayton, A., Gambino, M., & Rowe, M. (2016). Social and clinical dimensions of
citizenship from the mental health-care provider perspective. Psychiatric Rehabilitation
Journal, 39, 161–166. doi:10.1037/prj0000194
Prins, S. J. (2011). Does transinstitutionalization explain the overrepresentation of people with
serious mental illnesses in the criminal justice system? Community Mental Health
Journal, 47, 716–722. doi:10.1007/s10597-011-9420-y
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 145
Roberts, D. E. (2004). The social and moral cost of mass incarceration in African American
communities. Stanford Law Review, 56, 1271–1305.
Robins, D. M., Sanders, C. R., & Cahill, S. E. (1991). Dogs and their people: Pet-facilitated
interaction in a public setting. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 20, 3–25.
doi:10.1177/089124191020001001
Roman, C. G., & Travis, J. (2004). Taking stock: Housing, homelessness, and prisoner reentry.
Washington, DC: Urban Institute Press.
Rotter, M., McQuistion, H. L., Broner, N., & Steinbacher, M. (2005). The impact of the
“incarceration culture” on reentry for adults with mental illness: A training and group
model. Psychiatric Services, 56, 265–267. doi:10.1176/appi.ps.56.3.265
Rowe, M. (1999). Crossing the border: Encounters between homeless people and outreach
workers. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Rowe, M., Kloos, B., Chinman, M., Davidson, L., & Cross, A. B. (2001). Homelessness, mental
illness and citizenship. Social Policy & Administration, 35, 14–31. doi:10.1111/1467-
9515.00217
Rowe, M., & Pelletier, J.-F. (2012). Citizenship: A response to the marginalization of people
with mental illnesses. Journal of Forensic Psychology Practice, 12, 366–381.
doi:10.1080/15228932.2012.697423
Rüsch, N., Angermeyer, M. C., & Corrigan, P. W. (2005). Mental illness stigma: Concepts,
consequences, and initiatives to reduce stigma. European Psychiatry, 20, 529–539.
doi:10.1016/j.eurpsy.2005.04.004
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 146
Russell, D., Peplau, L. A., & Cutrona, C. E. (1980). The revised UCLA Loneliness Scale:
Concurrent and discriminant validity evidence. Journal of Personality and Social
Psychology, 39, 472–480. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.39.3.472
Ryan, B. (1998, November 29). The Green is their green, make no mistake. The New York Times.
Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/1998/11/29/nyregion/this-green-is-their-green-
make-no-mistake.html
Skeem, J., Louden, J. E., Manchak, S., Vidal, S., & Haddad, E. (2009). Social networks and
social control of probationers with co-occurring mental and substance abuse problems.
Law and Human Behavior, 33, 122–135. doi:10.1007/s10979-008-9140-1
Skeem, J. L., Manchak, S., & Peterson, J. K. (2011). Correctional policy for offenders with
mental illness: Creating a new paradigm for recidivism reduction. Law and Human
Behavior, 35, 110–126. doi:10.1007/s10979-010-9223-7
Smith, B. T., Padgett, D. K., Choy-Brown, M., & Henwood, B. F. (2015). Rebuilding lives and
identities: The role of place in recovery among persons with complex needs. Health &
Place, 33, 109–117. doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2015.03.002
Snow, D. A., & Anderson, L. (1987). Identity work among the homeless: The verbal
construction and avowal of personal identities. American Journal of Sociology, 92, 1336–
1371. doi:10.1086/228668
Snow, D. A., & Anderson, L. (1993). Down on their luck: A study of homeless street people.
Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Solomon, A. L., Waul, M., Van Ness, A., & Travis, J. (2004). Outside the walls: A national
snapshot of community-based prisoner reentry programs. Washington, DC: Urban
Institute Press.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 147
Steadman, H. J., Osher, F. C., Robbins, P. C., Case, B., & Samuels, S. (2009). Prevalence of
serious mental illness among jail inmates. Psychiatric Services, 60, 761–765.
doi:10.1176/ps.2009.60.6.761
Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. (1994). Grounded theory methodology. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S.
Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (pp. 273–285). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Stuart, F. (2014). From ‘rabble management’ to ‘recovery management’: Policing homelessness
in marginal urban space. Urban Studies, 51, 1909–1925. doi:10.1177/0042098013499798
Townley, G., Kloos, B., & Wright, P. A. (2009). Understanding the experience of place:
Expanding methods to conceptualize and measure community integration of persons with
serious mental illness. Health & Place, 15, 520–531.
doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2008.08.011
Townley, G., Miller, H., & Kloos, B. (2013). A little goes a long way: The impact of distal social
support on community integration and recovery of individuals with psychiatric
disabilities. American Journal of Community Psychology, 52, 84–96.
doi:10.1007/s10464-013-9578-2
Travis, J. (2002). Invisible punishment: An instrument of social exclusion. In M. Mauer & M.
Chesney-Lind (Eds.), Invisible punishment: The collateral consequences of mass
imprisonment (pp. 15–36). New York, NY: New Press.
Travis, J., Solomon, A. L., & Waul, M. (2001). From prison to home: The dimensions and
consequences of prisoner reentry. Washington, DC: Urban Institute, Justice Policy
Center.
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 148
Uggen, C., Manza, J., & Behrens, A. (2004). ‘Less than the average citizen’: Stigma, role
transition and the civic reintegration of convicted felons. In S. Maruna & R. Immarigeon
(Eds.), After crime and punishment: Pathways to offender reintegration (pp. 261–293).
Portland, OR: Willan.
U.S. Census Bureau. (2015). QuickFacts: New Haven city, Connecticut. Retrieved from
https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/table/PST045216/0952000
Valente, T. W. (2010). Social networks and health: Models, methods, and applications. Oxford,
United Kingdom: Oxford University Press.
Walker, C., Hart, A., & Hanna, P. (2017). Building a new community psychology of mental
health: Spaces, places, people and activities. London, United Kingdom: Palgrave
Macmillan.
Ware, N. C., Hopper, K., Tugenberg, T., Dickey, B., & Fisher, D. (2007). Connectedness and
citizenship: Redefining social integration. Psychiatric Services, 58, 469–474.
doi:10.1176/ps.2007.58.4.469
Wieland, M. E., Rosenstock, J., Kelsey, S. F., Ganguli, M., & Wisniewski, S. R. (2007). Distal
support and community living among individuals diagnosed with schizophrenia and
schizoaffective disorder. Psychiatry, 7, 1–11. doi:10.1521/psyc.2007.70.1.1
Williams, A. (Ed.). (1999). Therapeutic landscapes: The dynamic between place and wellness.
Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
Wilson, A. B., Draine, J., Hadley, T., Metraux, S., & Evans, A. (2011). Examining the impact of
mental illness and substance use on recidivism in a county jail. International Journal of
Law and Psychiatry, 34, 264–268. doi:10.1016/j.ijlp.2011.07.004
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 149
Wiseman, J. P. (1979). Close encounters of the quasi-primary kind: Sociability in urban second-
hand clothing stores. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 8, 23–51.
doi:10.1177/089124167900800102
Wolch, J. R., & Rowe, S. (1992). Companions in the park: Lauren Canyon Dog Park, Los
Angeles. Landscape, 31(3), 16–23.
Wong, Y.-L. I., Matejkowski, J., & Lee, S. (2011). Social integration of people with serious
mental illness: Network transactions and satisfaction. Journal of Behavioral Health
Services & Research, 38, 51–67. doi:10.1007/s11414-009-9203-1
Wong, Y.-L. I., Sands, R. G., & Solomon, P. L. (2010). Conceptualizing community: The
experience of mental health consumers. Qualitative Health Research, 20, 654–667.
doi:10.1177/1049732310361610
Wong, Y.-L. I., & Solomon, P. L. (2002). Community integration of persons with psychiatric
disabilities in supportive independent housing: A conceptual model and methodological
considerations. Mental Health Services Research, 4, 13–28.
doi:10.1023/A:1014093008857
Yanos, P. T. (2007). Beyond “Landscapes of Despair”: The need for new research on the urban
environment, sprawl, and the community integration of persons with severe mental
illness. Health & Place, 13, 672–676. doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2006.10.002
Yanos, P. T., Felton, B. J., Tsemberis, S., & Frye, V. A. (2007). Exploring the role of housing
type, neighborhood characteristics, and lifestyle factors in the community integration of
formerly homeless persons diagnosed with mental illness. Journal of Mental Health, 16,
703–717.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 150
Appendix A: Informed Consent Form
University of Southern California
School of Social Work

INFORMED CONSENT FOR NON-MEDICAL RESEARCH

Every Space Counts

You are invited to participate in a research study conducted by Liat Kriegel, MSW and Dr.
Benjamin Henwood from the University of Southern California, because you are over the age of
18, speak English, and have self-disclosed a prison stay in the recent 12 months as well as a
mental illness diagnosis. This study is funded by the Saks Institute for Mental Health Law,
Policy and Ethics at the University of Southern California. Your participation is voluntary. You
should read the information below, and ask questions about anything you do not understand,
before deciding whether to participate. Please take as much time as you need to read the consent
form. You may also decide to discuss participation with your family or friends. If you decide to
participate, you will be asked to sign this form. You will be given a copy of this form.

PURPOSE OF THE STUDY
You are being invited to participate in a research project. The purpose of this project is to
understand the roles of public and private space in your return home from prison. We want to
learn about the ways these spaces and the people you interact with in these spaces affect your
sense of security, self, and community.

STUDY PROCEDURES
If you volunteer to participate in this study and screen eligible, you will be asked to participate in
one 60-90 minute sit down interview in a private location of your choice (where others cannot
overhear the interview), in which you will be asked to answer questions about yourself, your
mental illness, your prison history, and your social life. You will also be asked questions about
your community, as you define it, and places you go to in your day-to-day. This interview will be
audio-recorded.

Depending on how you answer some of the interview questions, you may be asked to participate
in 3 to 5 follow-up go along visits, in which a researcher will spend up to 4 hours with you as
you go about whatever activities you would do on an average day. This could include staying in
your apartment and watching television or accompanying you on daily errands. At times, we may
ask you questions to help us understand what we are observing.

You will not be asked to provide personal information that would identify you as a participant in
this research, like names or addresses. We won’t observe you in private situations such as in the
bathroom or when you are having a private conversation with someone else. The observation
visits are entirely voluntary. You can choose not to be observed or you may end an observation
at any time by telling the researcher to leave. Only written notes will be taken during these visits.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 151
These multiple visits will take place over a period of 6 months. If you are unavailable or cannot
be reached for a period of 3 months during this period, you will not be eligible to participate in
any additional observation visits.

AUDIOTAPING
The observation visits will not be audiotaped. The individual interviews will be audiotaped. This
recording is needed to capture and help us analyze all of the important information shared during
the interview. All recordings will be labeled using ID numbers of participants and will be stored
in a locked cabinet accessible only to research staff. Recordings will be kept until they are no
longer needed by the research staff, for a maximum of 5 years.

Because audiotaping is an integral part of the study, you will not be able to participate in the
study if you do not agree to be audiotaped. You have the right to withdraw consent for
audiotaping at any time, or request that these recordings be erased at any time during or after the
interview, but this will end your participation in the study. By signing this consent form, you
give permission to audiotape your individual interview.

POTENTIAL RISKS AND DISCOMFORTS
One risk of being a part of this study is that you may be asked questions that you may think are
personal or embarrassing. You do not have to answer a question if you do not want to do so.
There is an additional risk that information about you will be disclosed to others. We take steps
protect your information so that this risk is minimized. If you are asked to participate in the go-
along observational visits portion of this study, you may become uncomfortable about being
observed doing certain activities, such as riding the bus or shopping. You may choose not to do
those activities while the researcher is with you or you may ask the researcher to leave.

POTENTIAL BENEFITS TO PARTICIPANTS AND/OR TO SOCIETY
There are no direct benefits to you for participating. It is hoped that this study will help us
understand public space and social connections after prison incarceration and that a better
understanding of this would help us in developing ways to improve the process after people are
released from prison.

PAYMENT/COMPENSATION FOR PARTICIPATION
You will receive $20 for your participation in the initial sit-down interview.

If you are selected to participate in the observational visits phase, you will be compensated $30
for each go-along visit. You would be asked to meet with the researcher for a maximum of 5
times, over a period of 6 months. The maximum compensation is $170, which will be paid in
cash as soon as each interview or visit is completed ($20 following the first interview and $30
following each go-along visit, of which there can be between 3 and 5). You will still be paid if
you chose to skip some questions or ask the researchers not to observe a specific activity.

CONFIDENTIALITY
To protect your confidentiality, the audiotaping of your individual interview can be stopped at
any time at your request. Once you are enrolled in the study, you will be assigned a subject ID
number. All data collected for the study will be linked to this subject ID. There will be one
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 152
master list that will be in a locked filing cabinet in a locked room linking the ID to your name.
This list will be kept in a separate locked cabinet from the coded data. At the end of the study,
the codes will be destroyed so your identity will not be linked to your data.

Addresses and phone numbers will be collected for the purpose of locating and contacting you
for the interview and visits, if you are selected. Contact information will be destroyed once the
interview and observations are over. This information will be kept in a locked filing cabinet in a
locked room until it is destroyed.

Once identifiers (the code linking your name to subject ID and your contact information) are
destroyed, the only record of your participation in this study will be the signed consent
document, which will be kept in a locked filing cabinet in a locked room.

De-identified information will be kept until it is no longer needed by the research staff for a
maximum of five years. In any publication or presentation of results from this research, your
information will be combined with all the others who are participating subjects in the study, and
you will not be identified by name. Any details that could make your identity known will be
either changed or taken out.

We will keep your records for this study confidential as far as permitted by law. However, if we
are required to do so by law, we will disclose confidential information about you. The members
of the research team, the funding agency and the University of Southern California’s Human
Subjects Protection Program (HSPP) may access the data. The HSPP reviews and monitors
research studies to protect the rights and welfare of research subjects. A company that does
transcription work will also have the data, without any identifying information, in order to
transcribe the data for analysis.

Every attempt will be made by the investigators to insure that all information collected in this
study is strictly confidential except as may be required by court order or by law. That means no
information about you will be shared with anyone unless there is a clear danger to yourself or
others. If you tell about a plan to hurt yourself or others, we will tell a social worker or health
worker about this plan.

Do not tell us any information about present, past, or future crimes that are unknown to the
authorities and do not participate in any illegal activities if you are observed, as we cannot
guarantee confidentiality of that information. Additionally, I [the researcher] must report to the
authorities any information you tell me about harming yourself or other people. If you report any
incident of child abuse, this information will be reported to the appropriate legal authorities.

PARTICIPATION AND WITHDRAWAL
Your participation is voluntary. Your decision whether or not to participate will involve no
penalty or loss of benefits you are otherwise entitled to. You may withdraw your consent at any
time and discontinue participation without penalty. You are not waiving any legal claims, rights
or remedies because of your participation in this research study.

ALTERNATIVES TO PARTICIPATION
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 153
The alternative to participation in this study is to not participate. Your decision to participate in
this study or not will not be reported by the investigators to your service providers.

EMERGENCY CARE AND COMPENSATION FOR INJURY
If you are injured as a direct result of research procedures you will receive medical treatment;
however, you or your insurance will be responsible for the cost. The University of Southern
California does not provide any monetary compensation for injury.

INVESTIGATOR’S CONTACT INFORMATION
If you have any questions or concerns about the research, please feel free to contact Liat Kriegel
or Dr. Henwood at the University of Southern California, School of Social Work, Montgomery
Ross Fisher Building, Los Angeles, CA 90089-0411 or by phone at 213.821.6449. Liat Kriegel
can also be reached by email at lkriegel@usc.edu and Dr. Henwood can be reached by email at
bhenwood@usc.edu.

RIGHTS OF RESEARCH PARTICIPANT – IRB CONTACT INFORMATION
If you have questions, concerns, or complaints about your rights as a research participant or the
research in general and are unable to contact the research team, or if you want to talk to someone
independent of the research team, please contact the University Park Institutional Review Board
(UPIRB), 3720 South Flower Street #301, Los Angeles, CA 90089-0702, (213) 821-5272 or
upirb@usc.edu

SIGNATURE OF RESEARCH PARTICIPANT

I have read the information provided above. I have been given a chance to ask questions. My
questions have been answered to my satisfaction, and I agree to participate in this study. I have
been given a copy of this form.

_____________________________________
Name of Participant

_____________________________________ ______________________
Signature of Participant Date

SIGNATURE OF INVESTIGATOR

I have explained the research to the participant and answered all of his/her questions. I believe
that he/she understands the information described in this document and freely consents to
participate.

_____________________________________
Name of Person Obtaining Consent

_____________________________________ ______________________
Signature of Person Obtaining Consent Date

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 154
Appendix B: Self-Report Interview Protocol
D1. What is your gender?
Male 1
Female 2
Transsexual/Transgender 3

D2. What is your sexual orientation? How do you identify yourself?
Heterosexual (attracted to opposite sex) 1
Gay/Lesbian (attracted to same sex) 2
Bisexual (attracted to both sexes) 3
Other:_______________________ 4

D3. What race or ethnicity do you consider yourself to be?
Race or ethnicity Yes No
a. White 1 0
b. Black 1 0
c. Latino or Hispanic 1 0
d. Native American 1 0
e. Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander 1 0
f. Asian 1 0
g. Other _________________ 1 0

D4. What is your current age? __________________

D4a. What is your birth date? __________________

D5. What is your current marital status?
Are you… Yes No
a. Single or never married? 1 0
b. Currently married/domestic partnership? 1 0
c. Separated? 1 0
d. Divorced? 1 0
e. Widowed? 1 0
f. Other: Please specify ___________ 1 0

D6. Do you have a significant other (a partner/boyfriend/girlfriend) to whom you are not legally
married?
Yes 1
No 0

D7. Do you have any biological, adopted or stepchildren?
[If NO, Skip to question #D10]
Yes 1
No 2
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 155
NASK -9

D8. How many biological, adopted or stepchildren do you have under the age of 18? ______
[If ‘00’ Skip to question #D10]

D9. Are you the primary caregiver for anyone under the age of 18?
[If NO, Skip to question# D10]
Yes 1
No 2
NASK -9

D10. Are you currently a member of a spiritual/religious congregation (e.g., belong to a church
or synagogue)?
Yes 1
No 2
NANS 8
NASK 9

D11. How many times in the past year have you attended a spiritual/religious ceremony or event
(e.g., mass, service) at a place of worship, such as a church, synagogue, or temple?
Never attended in the past year 0
Attended once or twice 1
Sometimes (once a month) 2
Regularly (attended once a week) 3
Very often (attended more than once a week) 4
NANS 8
NASK 9

D12. How far did you go in school?
Grade of school 1-11 ______
High school graduate or GED 12
Some college, vocational, trade or business school 13
Associates degree or vocational graduate 14
Bachelors degree 15
Some graduate or professional school training 16
Graduate or professional degree 17

D13. Are you currently working?
[If no skip to D13]
Yes 1
No 0

D14. What is your current job status?
Yes No
a. Full Time (30 hours or more a week)? 1 0
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 156
b. Part-time? (less than 30 hours per week) 1 0
c. Irregular Work (working on and off)? 1 0
d. Military Service? (active, inactive, or reserve) 1 0
e. Volunteer? 1 0
f. Transitional Employment? (working at an agency, as training, in order to get
employment independent of an agency)
1 0
g. Sheltered Employment? (working at an agency in which one receives services) 1 0
h. Any Other. Specify____________________ 1 0

D15. Are you currently…
Yes No
a. A student? (full or part-time) 1 0
b. Retired? 1 0
c. Disabled? 1 0
d. Unemployed? 1 0
e. A Homemaker or Caregiver? 1 0
f. Other? Specify_____________ 1 0

D16. How you are getting along financially. For each item, please answer yes or no.
In the past 12 months, have you had any financial support from [insert item]? Yes No
a. Income from employment 1 0
b. Supplemental Security Income (SSI) 1 0
c. Social Security Disability Income (SSDI) 1 0
d. Social Security Benefits 1 0
e. Armed service connected disability payments 1 0
f. Social welfare benefits, state or county (TANF, General Assistance) 1 0
g. Food stamps 1 0
h. Vocational program, vocational rehabilitation, sheltered workshop 1 0
i. Unemployment Compensation 1 0
j. Retirement, investment or savings income 1 0
k. Alimony and child support 1 0
l. Family and/or spouse contribution 1 0
m. Panhandling or asking for money on the streets 1 0
n. Some illegal activities (e.g., selling drugs) 1 0
o. Other source: Specify _______________________________ 1 0

D17. Do you consider yourself to be: poor, working class, middle class, affluent.
Yes No
a. Poor 1 0
b. Working Class 1 0
c. Middle Class 1 0
d. Affluent 1 0

D18. What is your current living situation? (Use codes below) ________
01 Hospital 10 Boarding house: (includes meals, no program or
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 157
supervision)
02 Skilled nursing facility: 24 hour
nursing service
11 Rooming or boarding house or hotel: (includes single
room occupancy, no meals are provided, cooking
facilities may be available)
03 Intermediate care facility (less
than 24 hour nursing facility)
12 Private house or apartment
04 Supervised group living:
(generally long term)
13 Shelter
05 Transitional group home
(halfway or quarterway house)
14 Jail/Prison
06 Family foster care 15 No current residence (including the streets, bus
stations, missions, etc.)
07 Cooperative apartment
supervised (staff on premises)
16 other _____________________
08 Cooperative apartment,
unsupervised (staff not on premises)
-8 NANS /No information
09 Board and care home (private
proprietary home for adults, with
program and supervision)
-9 NASK

D18a. Approximately how long have you lived in this location?
________ ________ ________
Days Months Years

D19. Have you ever been homeless (defined as lacking a fixed, regular, and adequate nighttime
residence)?
Yes 1
No 0

D20. How would you rate your overall satisfaction with your current living situation? Consider
your satisfaction with factors like the monthly cost, the number of people you live with, the
condition of the location, the distance from work and from the place(s) you receive mental health
services.
Extremely
Dissatisfied
Very
Dissatisfied
Dissatisfied Neither Satisfied
nor Dissatisfied
Satisfied Very
Satisfied
Extremely
Satisfied
1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D21. How old were you when you were first arrested? ____________

D22. How many times were you arrested as a juvenile? ____________

D23. In your lifetime, how many TIMES have you been arrested? ____________

D24 In your lifetime, how many TIMES were you in jail? ____________

D25. In your lifetime, how many TIMES were you in prison? ____________
EVERY PLACE COUNTS 158

D26. Altogether, how many years did you spend time in jail or prison in your lifetime? ________

D27. Are you a veteran of the armed services?
[If no skip to D29]
Yes 1
No 0

D28. If you are a veteran, do you currently receive health care or social services from the
Veteran Affairs (VA)?
Yes 1
No 0

D29. Were you ever treated by a mental health professional for stress, personal problems,
emotional or family problems?
Yes 1
No 0

D29a. Were you given a mental health diagnosis? If yes, what was that diagnosis?
________________________________________________________________________

D30. How old were you when you first saw a mental health professional [for stress, personal
problems, emotional or family problems]? ____________

D31. How many times in your life have you been hospitalized for a psychiatric or emotional
problem? ____________

D32. How many times have you gone to an emergency room for psychiatric or emotional
problems in your lifetime? ____________

D33. Have you ever abused drug/alcohol, or been told you do?
Yes 1
No 0

D34. Which drug(s)/alcohol?
_____________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________

D35. Have you consumed alcohol every day for the past month?
Yes 1
No 0

D36. Have you ever used injection drugs or shots?
Yes 1
No 0

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 159
D37. Have you ever been treated for drug or alcohol abuse?
Yes 1
No 0

The Revised UCLA Loneliness Scale

Instructions: Indicate how often each of the statements below is descriptive of you.
Statement Never Rarely Sometimes Often
1. How often do you feel that you are “in tune” with the people around
you?*

1 2 3 4
2. How often do you feel that you lack companionship? 1 2 3 4
3. How often do you feel that there is no one you can turn to? 1 2 3 4
4 How often do you feel alone? 1 2 3 4
5. How often do you feel part of a group of friends?* 1 2 3 4
6. How often do you feel that you have a lot in common with the
people around you?*
1 2 3 4
7. How often do you feel that you are no longer close to anyone? 1 2 3 4
8. How often do you feel that your interests and ideas are not shared by
those around you?
1 2 3 4
9. How often do you feel outgoing and friendly?* 1 2 3 4
10. How often do you feel close to people?* 1 2 3 4
11. How often do you feel left out? 1 2 3 4
12. How often do you feel that your relationships with others are not
meaningful?
1 2 3 4
13. How often do you feel that no one really knows you well? 1 2 3 4
14. How often do you feel isolated from others? 1 2 3 4
15. How often do you fee1 you can find companionship when you want
it?*
1 2 3 4
16. How often do you feel that there are people who really understand
you?*
1 2 3 4
17. How often do you feel shy? 1 2 3 4
18. How often do you feel that people are around you but not with you? 1 2 3 4
19. How often do you feel that there are people you can talk to?* 1 2 3 4
20. How often do you feel that there are people you can turn to?* 1 2 3 4
*Reverse scored. Keep scoring on a continuous basis.

EVERY PLACE COUNTS 160
Appendix C: Semistructured Interview and Community Mapping Guide
(Text in parentheses are instructions for interviewers only)

Can you tell me about the places you like to go to outside your home and what you like about those
places? What are some of the places where you feel most at ease outside of the home?

(Probe for social interactions and markers of ontological security: control and self-determination
[“freedom from” and “freedom to” opportunities], routines of daily life [“the simple things” or minor but
deeply gratifying aspects of certain places], privacy and freedom from supervision [places as “havens”
from the noise and stress of urban life], identity construction and repair [spaces offering opportunities
for self-reflection and repairing damaged identities; repairing social roles].)

(Interviewer provides participant with large piece of paper and multicolored pens)

1. “Ok, now I’m going to ask you to draw a map of the places you mentioned so we can see where they
are in relation to one another. This might also help you think of additional places where you spend
your time that didn’t come up. Once you’re done I’ll have some questions for you about the map.

When creating the map, think about and include spaces you often go to, spaces you feel are important,
and spaces where you feel included and excluded.

A. Which of these places are most important to you?

B. Where do you spend the most time?

C. Where do you feel you belong the most?

D. How do you get to particular places on the map?

E. What do you do at particular places on the map?

F. Does the map fully represent where you spend your time outside the home?

G. Are there places that you normally go to that aren’t on this map? (Probe for detail if answer is
yes.)

H. Are there places on this map or not on this map that you actively avoid? Where? Why? (Probe for
detail.)

2. Now I want you to tell me about some of the people you typically see in each of these places. They
don’t have to be people you talk or consider your friends. It’s ok if you don’t know their names.
(Probe for social interactions in each space the participant identifies.)

A. Tell me about this person. Do you know his or her name?

B. What are you interactions like? (Probe for whether they are primarily verbal or visual.) How often
do you see this person?

Abstract (if available)

Abstract Prisoners with mental illness are released from prison into environments wherein they are undertreated and undersupported by our criminal justice, social service, and health systems. Public space and the interactions in those spaces have been shown to have positive effects in other similar populations, including individuals with mental illness. This qualitative study aimed to understand which kinds of connections and spaces have greater capacity to increase or reduce recidivism, hamper or strengthen community integration, encourage or offset social isolation, and influence a sense of ontological security. I recruited 36 ex-prisoners with mental illness and conducted semistructured baseline interviews during which I asked them about both their experiences of public spaces and their interactions in these spaces. Participants were asked to draw maps of their communities and identify public spaces. They identified both spaces of inclusion and exclusion and interactions in those spaces. Ethnographic fieldwork was conducted as a follow-up to these interviews with a subsample of 11 participants to identify and describe public spaces and interactions in those spaces. Phenomenological and template analyses were used to analyze the collected data. Participants described an array of public and private spaces in which they spent time and reconstructed their identities during reentry. In these spaces, participants fostered supportive relationships with intimate and familiar strangers. This form of “stranger support” was juxtaposed against the burdens and risks of reciprocal intimate relationships. Public space and public space interactions can provide support streams to counterbalance the more complex and mixed support of intimate relationships. Providers might consider the utility of familiar and intimate strangers in helping clients to navigate these sometimes risky but potentially fruitful spaces.

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Conceptually similar

PDF

Intimate relationships and gender: perspectives from Latinos with schizophrenia and their family members

PDF

Implementation of peer providers in integrated health care settings

PDF

The impact of psychosocial rehabilitation services on recovery outcomes for racial/ethnic minorities with severe mental illness

PDF

A study of depression disclosure among Latino older adults in Los Angeles

PDF

Situated experiences: a qualitative study of day-to-day life and participation of adolescents and young adults with a spinal cord injury and their caregivers

PDF

Neighborhood context and adolescent mental health: development and mechanisms

PDF

Mental health service use by children and youth in the child welfare system: a focus on need and predisposing factors and caregiver type

PDF

Exploring the social determinants of health in a population with similar access to healthcare: experiences from United States active-duty army wives

PDF

Successful reentry among formerly incarcerated women: a mixed methods analysis

PDF

Suicide talk as a vital sign: a theory-informed examination of individual and relational factors that influence suicidal disclosure

PDF

Multilevel influences on organizational adoption of innovative practices in children's mental health services

PDF

An exploratory study of the role of religion and religious involvement among Latinos with schizophrenia and family caregivers

PDF

Asian Americans served at community mental health agencies for a diagnosis of schizophrenia

PDF

One size fits none: theorizing weight management in the everyday lives of adults with serious mental illness

PDF

Incarceration trajectories of mothers in state and federal prisons and their relation to the mother’s mental health problems and child’s risk of incarceration

PDF

Unleashing prevention and reaching the masses with a positive mental wellness museum

PDF

Community integration of individuals with serious mental illness: a network perspective from India and United States

PDF

Mental health advocacy and navigation partnerships: the case for a community collaborative approach

PDF

Main, moderating, and mediating effects of social network compositions on suicidal ideation among North Korean refugees in South Korea

PDF

Sociocultural influences on mental health functioning: implications for the design of community-based services

Asset Metadata

Creator Kriegel, Liat S. (author)

Core Title Every space counts: how ex-prisoners with mental illnesses navigate public space and interactions in everyday life

School School of Social Work

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Social Work

Publication Date 06/28/2017

Defense Date 06/07/2017

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag OAI-PMH Harvest,prisoner reentry,public space,qualitative methods,serious mental illness,social interactions

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Henwood, Benjamin (committee chair), Palinkas, Lawrence (committee member), Saks, Elyn (committee member)

Creator Email liat.kriegel@gmail.com,lkriegel@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c40-391468

Unique identifier UC11264484

Identifier etd-KriegelLia-5461.pdf (filename),usctheses-c40-391468 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-KriegelLia-5461.pdf

Dmrecord 391468

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Kriegel, Liat S.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA