I feel the warmth of peer support; these people know my journey and I know theirs.

Paula Harriott
8/07/2013

Between 2004 and 2008 I was a prisoner, serving the majority of my sentence at HMP Drake Hall in Staffordshire, a semi open prison holding around 400 women. I arrived there desolate and angry; missing my five children, and facing long, sad, frustrating, agonising days and nights as I came to terms with the eight year sentence.  Prison for women is like going back to junior school….yes miss, no miss, can I go to the toilet miss….it doesn't do much for your self esteem or self confidence for sure as you soak up the atmosphere of control and correction.

Last month I returned to HMP Drake Hall, not on recall, but working as Head of Programmes for User Voice. I walked around the prison, revisiting memories and my main focus was on a small blue hut in the centre of the prison, called the Signpost. In many ways my journey to User Voice started there in that little blue hut with no heating in the winter (freezing). But what it signified to me and to all my peers was a refuge from the authority of the prison. The Signpost was the first peer support project at Drake Hall. Two prisoners (one of them me) escaped the drudgery of cleaning and kitchens to sit in that hut, unsupervised by staff, and support other women to access education courses, fill in complaints, read their mail, get information about how best to survive in prison and generally just be a welcoming space for those that needed a bit of humanity in the midst of the institutional coldness that is prison. In the Signpost we made tea, talked like free people and generally gave each other support to get through the drama and tension that is prison. 

In two years the number of women undertaking distance learning courses rose to over 60, a first at that prison, and the number of complaints also rose dramatically. At that time complaining was the only option by which to exercise voice; there was no prison council. The Governor soon recognised that the Signpost was a hub of information regarding what was going on in the prison and would often pop in for a cup of tea and a chat about issues, seeking to understand the mood of the prison and using myself and the other peer supporters as a barometer to test out new ideas, proposed changes and generally find out how his staff were doing. He was willing to listen to both good and bad. (I have visited that Governor too, now managing a large male prison, in my capacity as Head of Programmes at User Voice.) Without knowing it I was developing and practising the skills needed in the co-production methodology that underpins the work of User Voice.

So in the Signpost I learnt the value of peer support and how it can benefit prisoners. How it can contribute to a better experience of prison, how it can offer support to those who have only ever been exposed to pain and brutality outside; mirrored in the prison regime, life feels no different to the norm. The informal talking and motivation to look forward, the modelling of compassionate non-judgmentalism to all those who came through the door of the Signpost was a stark contrast to the cultural norm of the institution. It was peer support that got me through my prison sentence, that helped me to understand myself better and challenged me the deepest, because I was not paralysed by fear when communicating; I was keenly aware of the power the prison staff had over my life and did not ever trust the hand they offered along the way. They offered control and surveillance, not motivation nor hope in change.

I came to User Voice, still in pain and anguish caused by that prison sentence, but here at User Voice I have once again found the refuge of the Signpost; a space to be me, to own my failings, to acknowledge my strengths and celebrate my successes. Working in an organisation, staffed by 80% ex-offenders, I feel the warmth of peer support; these people know my journey and I know theirs, not from a book but from personal experience. It’s a pain that binds and in the unity we have strength, build resilience and find freedom.