After nearly six hours of waiting in an Annapolis hearing room, finally, Monica Cooper’s name was called.
She threw her hands up and let out a “woo!” before approaching the microphone.
After waiting a decade, what was a few more hours?
Cooper is one of the driving forces in a yearslong campaign to get Maryland’s state government to open a correctional facility for women ending their sentences and preparing to return to the community. She helped pass a law and overcome a prior governor’s veto. Now she’s pushing the state to follow through.
“This should no longer be difficult,” Cooper, who was incarcerated before earning a college degree and launching her advocacy work, told a panel of state lawmakers. “It should not be continuously kicked down the road.
“You have the power,” she said. “You can make this happen.”
Even with a law requiring the center, money for the project was frozen after advocates voiced concerns about the selected site. Now advocates hope to leverage the delay to update the law and ensure the new center offers incarcerated women what they need.
Comparable services
Women make up only about 3% of the roughly 16,000 people incarcerated in state facilities.
There’s just one women’s prison, the Maryland Correctional Institution — Women, in Jessup, that houses women at all security levels and at various points as they pass through the system.
Although there are multiple minimum-security facilities serving men who are about to be released, no such facility exists for women. The state’s only prerelease center for women closed in 2009 amid budget cuts and a restructuring of the prison system.
Women remain at the women’s prison as they prepare to return to their families and communities — and advocates say they’re being shortchanged.
“They are not getting services that are comparable to what the men get,” said Shekhinah Braveheart of the Women’s Prerelease Equity Coalition, an advocacy group pushing for a stand-alone facility for women.
Men have vocational training, job opportunities and more. Women face logistical limitations because they’re housed in a traditional prison in Jessup.
Only a few work-release options are offered for women, including at fast-food restaurants, advocates say.
Women need different services than men when they’re preparing to leave prison, advocates say. Because many are mothers, restoring family bonds is crucial. But bringing children to a high-security prison in Jessup isn’t the best for family counseling and reunification efforts.
“They need family reintegration services. They need to be able to take care of themselves and their families when they get out. They need the same type — if not better — services than the men are getting,” Braveheart said. “And they’re not.”
The state Department of Public Safety and Correctional Services maintains that women are getting “gender responsive, trauma informed” services as they prepare to leave prison. It offers half a dozen work-release partnerships, including in food service and with a grocery chain.
“At MCIW, the Department continues to expand opportunities that reflect these best practices so women have the skills, education, and support needed to successfully transition back into the community,” department spokesperson Ioannis Varonis wrote.
Lost momentum
Advocates for incarcerated women have lobbied the state for a decade to open a prerelease center. Some prefer the term “reentry” because “prerelease” is also used by the prisons to describe inmates at the lowest security level, regardless of the time left on their sentences.
After years of trying, lawmakers passed a bill in 2020 requiring the state to open a center by 2023, only to see then-Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, veto the measure. The Democratic-led legislature overturned the veto in 2021, but the project lost momentum.
The state eventually picked a site for the new women’s center, but advocates took issue with it. Located at 717 Forrest St. in Baltimore, it’s a parking lot surrounded by state-run correctional facilities. At less than an acre in size, it lacks the room for safe outdoor space, advocates say.
“It’s not in a location, nor does it actually provide for all the needs of the women that we’re looking for to be a part of prerelease,” said Del. Charlotte Crutchfield, a Montgomery County Democrat who’s worked on the issue since 2019.
State officials disagreed, saying the site is large enough and is near public transit.
Even so, the state has paused the project in response to advocates’ concerns. There’s also no funding for the project — called the “Life Skills and Re-Entry Center for Women” — in this year’s budget or in the one proposed for next year.
Advocates want to use the delay to refine the center’s scope. They’re working with lawmakers on legislation that would set more parameters: minimum site size, minimum number of beds, program standards.
Versions of such a bill got traction in last year’s General Assembly session but didn’t pass. So lawmakers and advocates are back this year.
They held a rally outside the State House on a chilly, rainy day, carrying placards that read “Build The Women’s Prerelease Center Now!”
They’ve found an unlikely alliance with the state’s correctional officers union.
“Our officers want a safe, rehabilitative prerelease facility that women can use and succeed in. That’s the law, and that should be afforded to everyone across Maryland,” said Patrick Moran, president of AFSCME Maryland, which represents the officers, at the rally.
Their efforts in Annapolis have faced pushback.
Officials with the state’s correctional department testified that they believe women preparing for release are well served by sound programming at the Jessup prison.
The programs offered there include college classes, job training and a personal development program called Project FRESH, according to the state. State officials note the recidvism rate for women is less than for men, and point to the programs as a reason.
“We’re currently providing comprehensive gender response program tailored to meet the specific needs of all incarcerated women at MCIW,” Jason Davidson, the department’s chief lobbyist, told lawmakers. “And specifically the incarcerated women housed on the pre-release unit have the opportunity to participate in gender responsive programming exclusively dedicated to them.”
Members of a Senate committee — which must approve the bill to move it forward — expressed skepticism about taking prerelease women out of the main prison. They raised concerns that women released directly from higher-security settings might miss out on reentry programming because they wouldn’t qualify to move to the new center.

Deadline looming
Sen. Mary Washington, who’s worked for gender parity in corrections for years, said the correctional department seems uninterested in improving reentry services for women.
“We’re still trying to get them to implement what’s in the law,” said Washington, a Baltimore Democrat.
The legislative clock is ticking for this year’s bill, with a key deadline looming March 23. Any bill that doesn’t pass the House or the Senate by that date is usually considered defeated because it would have to overcome significant procedural hurdles to move forward.
If the bill doesn’t move forward, the issue would remain in limbo.
“If we do believe in rehabilitation or a second chance, we’ve got to program for that,” Washington said. “And we’re not there.”
This article was updated after publication to include more information about programs at the women’s prison.







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