I'm Proof of the Power of a Second Chance | Opinion

April was Second Chance Month in the U.S. For me and nearly 80 million other Americans with a criminal record, this is not just an empty proclamation. It's a reminder that people are more than the worst thing they've done, and of the power of hope and redemption.

At 16, I was a high school dropout and gang member, and by 18 I'd been sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Many assumed that was the end of my productive existence. Some days, I assumed that too.

But after serving 24 years behind bars, I was released on parole in 2012. I am now a proud grandfather, engaged community member, and chief executive officer of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition, a Los Angeles-based organization that helps currently and formerly incarcerated people rebuild their lives.

I received a second chance, and I've done all I can to make the most of it. But I'm lucky. Most people leaving prison struggle as they reenter society. Their criminal past lingers like a scarlet letter, making obtaining jobs, housing, education, and other life-sustaining support a daunting challenge.

More than 600,000 people are released from state and federal prisons each year, and another 11 million annually cycle through local jails. Since its designation in 2017, Second Chance Month has spotlighted the importance of helping those leaving custody regain their footing in free society, which benefits not just individuals but public safety as well. In a proclamation this year, President Joe Biden urged the nation to recommit to ensuring that "people returning to their communities from jail or prison have a fair shot at the American Dream."

In many ways, we are on the right track. Over the past decade, a growing number of states have adopted bipartisan reforms targeting the damage incarceration inflicts on a person's ability to create a stable life once released. One example is "clean slate" laws, which seal a person's record from public view after a certain number of years without a rearrest—and enabled me to have my record expunged. Other reforms have removed barriers blocking formerly incarcerated people from working in certain professions and restored their right to vote.

The business sector has also turned a corner, increasing second-chance hiring as employers realize that in a competitive economy, they're missing out on a largely untapped labor pool. Research from JPMorgan Chase & Co. found that employment challenges that leave people with a criminal record unemployed or underpaid cost the U.S. economy as much as $87 billion each year.

Despite such progress, I'm anxious, because some states and jurisdictions are rolling back reforms and considering new punitive policies that will affect families and communities long into the future. This is partly due to the crime increase at the onset of the pandemic—a spike that has since receded—and partly due to our current political climate.

Second chances should not be a partisan issue. Recently, I worked with the Council on Criminal Justice, serving on a task force examining long sentences with people of vastly different backgrounds and perspectives, from correctional leaders to judges and prosecutors. Through respectful discussion, we united on our shared belief that people can change—and should have the opportunity to do so.

One of our recommendations endorsed "second look" policies, which allow incarcerated people to ask a court to reconsider their sentence after they've served a specified length of time. We based our support on research showing that people typically "age out" of crime, and that they can safely be released at the tail end of long sentences.

For me, a second chance meant freedom after taking accountability for the harm I caused. That freedom has allowed me to experience moments big and small, from leading an organization doing meaningful work to visiting my sick mother every weekend and helping neighbors by picking up trash cans toppled by Santa Ana winds.

I also get to witness the impact of a second chance on others. At a recent event, I came across a young man who was given a life sentence as a juvenile, but, because of a second look policy, was able to return home a year ago. He's now an apprentice carpenter, has his own apartment and car, and takes care of his kids. As I watched him in a park, he effortlessly stooped down to wipe his child's nose. It was a small thing, but it touched me, because it wouldn't have been possible just months before.

Second Chance Month has come to an end, but our commitment to supporting second chances doesn't have to stop. My story, and the stories of the people I work with every day, demonstrate growth, accountability, and giving back. I hope we'll translate our belief in redemption into action and resolve to give more Americans a second chance.

Sam Lewis is chief executive officer of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition and served as a member of the Council on Criminal Justice Task Force on Long Sentences.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.