Developing Evidence‐Informed Support Groups for Families of Incarcerated People: Findings From a Qualitative Study

ABSTRACT

Researchers have extensively documented the financial, social, emotional, and psychological challenges that families of incarcerated people face, and there are growing calls for programs and services to help these families confront the collateral consequences of imprisonment. This article uses data from an ethnographic study exploring how family members of people in prison constructed and leveraged communities of support to help them cope with the stressors of having an incarcerated loved one. Drawing on 8 months of observations of a support group for families of people in prison and in‐depth interviews with eight participants in this support group, we present findings related to family members' perspectives on the challenges they face, their reasons for joining the support group, and the group's strengths and limitations. Based on these findings, we argue that support groups for families of incarcerated people should be facilitated by trained professionals who are well versed in the unique traumas associated with contact with the criminal legal system.

1. Introduction

The large body of research on the collateral consequences of imprisonment has documented how the negative effects of incarceration extend to the families of those imprisoned (Comfort et al. 2016; Kirk and Wakefield 2018). Children of incarcerated parents (Nesmith and Ruhland 2008; Turney 2018), surrogate caregivers of these children (Engstrom 2008; Turanovic et al. 2012), as well as parents (Benisty et al. 2021; Engstrom 2008; Tadros and Finney 2018, 2019) and partners (Naser and Visher 2006) of incarcerated people all face unique challenges because of their indirect system contact. These difficulties include, for instance, economic costs related to supporting and communicating with their loved one (Benisty et al. 2021; Comfort et al. 2016; Sinha and Umamaheswar 2025), the emotional toll of their loved one's incarceration (Benisty et al. 2021; Comfort et al. 2016; King and Delgado 2021; Sinha and Umamaheswar 2025; Turanovic et al. 2012; Umamaheswar 2024b), and stigma in the wake of their loved one's system contact (Benisty et al. 2021; Condry 2013; Umamaheswar 2024a).

Family members of people in prison demonstrate resilience despite these challenges. Resilience scholars study the biological, ecological, social, and psychological factors that support a person's ability to adapt and even thrive in the face of immense difficulties. These researchers have documented the conceptual distinctions between coping and resilience, noting that different ways of coping with adversity can either promote or inhibit one's resilience (Rutter 2007; Zimmer‐Gembeck and Skinner 2016). Early resilience scholarship often focused solely on the individual, largely ignoring the capacity of families to develop relational resilience together (Walsh 1996, 2003). A family resilience perspective explores how family processes can cultivate the resilience that marginalized families—such as those impacted by incarceration—need to withstand and adapt to external challenges. From a family resilience perspective, adversity is felt not just by an individual, but also by their broader family unit. By the same token, families can develop resilience that allows all members to adapt to adversity (Patterson 2002; Walsh 1996, 2003). A family's dynamics and environment shape its capacity to cultivate collective resilience, which (as with individual resilience) is better understood as an ongoing process than a static characteristic (Patterson 2002).

Family resilience scholars from across the disciplines agree that programs and policies that seek to strengthen and stabilize family relationships are important (Arditti and Johnson 2022). Resilience, however, is not simply a trait that individuals can cultivate on their own; it is contingent on the availability of culturally relevant and accessible resources (Ungar 2013; Ungar et al. 2013). The value of support groups for families of people in prison is thus in some ways self‐evident: Although they cannot remedy the structural inequities that produce the pernicious challenges of familial incarceration, they operate as a venue for family members to express their emotions, locate a sense of community, and engage in knowledge exchange (Condry 2013; Umamaheswar 2024a). In this way, support groups can nurture the resilience that helps families confront the challenges of having a loved one in prison (Umamaheswar 2024a).

More research that evaluates programs and services targeting families of the incarcerated (such as support groups) is needed, and studies that attend to “how family members make sense of their experience” are particularly crucial (Arditti and Johnson 2022, 64). In this article, we draw on ethnographic observations of a virtual family support group and in‐depth interviews with eight members of this support group to explore family members' perspectives on their challenges, their reasons for joining the support group, and the group's strengths and limitations. We use these data to offer recommendations for how support groups can be structured to address this population's many needs more effectively.

2. Literature Review

2.1. Support Groups

Support groups have long served people undergoing hardships by creating a space where they can share their experiences and connect with others facing similar difficulties (Barak et al. 2008). Support groups exist for many different populations, including (but not limited to) those with physical health conditions (Finlay et al. 2018; Mandell and Salzer 2007; Ussher et al. 2006), mental health conditions (Beard et al. 2024; Crabtree et al. 2010), and those who have experienced victimization (Cross 2019; Haslam et al. 2022; Murn and Schultz 2023). Support groups also serve marginalized or vulnerable groups, such as Indigenous individuals (Lee et al. 2016), immigrants and refugees (Logie et al. 2016; Masalehdan Block et al. 2018; Shaw et al. 2022), and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ) individuals (Fish et al. 2022; Logie et al. 2016). The ubiquity of support groups is unsurprising, given that they are inexpensive and accessible tools for people experiencing significant adversities. Technological advancements have further facilitated the development of online support groups, which have gained remarkable popularity among individuals with a wide range of support needs (Barak et al. 2008; Chung 2014; Huber et al. 2018).

Support groups are particularly helpful for people experiencing stigma because they help reframe how these individuals think about themselves and may even help them improve their social situation (Logie et al. 2016; Watkins‐Hayes et al. 2012). In the context of familial imprisonment specifically, support groups play an important role in providing family members with a space to express negative emotions, find emotional support, and access the resources necessary to navigate the criminal legal system (Condry 2013; Pocinki 2024; Umamaheswar 2024a). Support groups offer participants these benefits—sometimes referred to as a “social cure” to isolation—because they bring together family members based on their shared experiences of stigma and hardship, thereby facilitating close ties and possibly even collective action (Bradshaw and Muldoon 2020; Pocinki 2024).

Some research suggests that support group participation is disproportionately female (Daynes‐Kearney and Gallagher 2023), white, and middle‐to‐upper‐income (Daynes‐Kearney and Gallagher 2023; Gold et al. 2016; Mandell and Salzer 2007; Zenmore et al. 2024). The finding that socioeconomically privileged people with the greatest access to mental healthcare are also the most likely to participate in support groups (Gold et al. 2016; Zenmore et al. 2024) raises questions about whether and how support groups can serve those who lack such privilege. However, there have been efforts to diffuse the benefits of support groups more widely. For example, some support groups (such as Alcoholics Anonymous) have adapted their meetings to be more culturally responsive and accessible (Dale et al. 2019; Zenmore et al. 2024), and scholars, organizations, and practitioners have developed support groups specifically for historically marginalized groups (Collins Lovell et al. 2025; Fish et al. 2022; Lee et al. 2016; Logie et al. 2016; Masalehdan Block et al. 2018; Shaw et al. 2022).

Researchers have highlighted the therapeutic limitations of support groups (Barak et al. 2008; Lieberman and Goldstein 2006) and the risk they pose in creating negative experiences for people who may be harmed by emotional triggers and increased stress (Barak et al. 2008; Dyregrov et al. 2013; Tan et al. 2021). The American Psychological Association (APA) defines trauma as an emotional reaction to a catastrophic event (American Psychological Association, n.d.). Researchers and clinicians using trauma‐informed approaches recognize that traumatic events impact the services needed by those seeking assistance (Kulkarni 2019). Rooted in trauma theory, trauma‐informed care (TIC) emphasizes that clinicians must recognize and address the potential impact of trauma on the individuals they serve, including those harmed by incarceration (Arditti 2012; Reeves 2015). TIC involves understanding the consequences, manifestations, and prevalence of trauma in order to develop policies and procedures that do not retraumatize victims and that instead nurture their healing (Levenson and Willis 2019).

Support group facilitators, whether clinicians or peer leaders, may experience emotional responses to participants' stories that reflect their own unresolved experiences or biases (Aponte 1996, 2022). Without proper awareness and care, repeated exposure to participants' distressing experiences can contribute to secondary trauma, resulting in facilitators experiencing burnout, emotional exhaustion, or even vicarious trauma (Devilly et al. 2009). Likewise, group participants may also be susceptible to secondary trauma, rendering them subject to emotional overwhelm (Gülirmak Güler et al. 2025). Support group members may internalize other members' grief, especially when the challenges that others express so closely resemble their own (Boss 2016; King and Delgado 2021). Hearing others articulate difficulties they are experiencing themselves may exacerbate support group members' unresolved trauma, potentially intensifying feelings of powerlessness, worry, or emotional fatigue (Missouridou 2017). In the absence of coping techniques, both facilitators and participants may be susceptible to emotional dysregulation. The importance of trauma‐informed methodologies in support groups thus cannot be overstated. Organizational factors can also shape experiences with support groups, with poor facilitation and inadequate group structure increasing risks of negative participant experiences (Dyregrov et al. 2013).

Even with these risks and limitations, however, support groups are arguably the most accessible form of support for individuals facing adversity, such as those experiencing familial incarceration. And while the benefits of support groups are often aimed at the individual, they can empower participants (Barak et al. 2008; Lee et al. 2016; Shaw et al. 2022; Ussher et al. 2006), build community, and facilitate knowledge exchanges (Barak et al. 2008; Chung 2014; Dyregrov et al. 2013; Lee et al. 2016; Logie et al. 2016; Umamaheswar 2024a; Ussher et al. 2006). In doing so, support groups can play a role in enacting structural change as well (Logie et al. 2016).

3. Impact of Familial Incarceration

Family members of incarcerated people often struggle with feelings of grief in the wake of their loved one's incarceration (Benisty et al. 2021; King and Delgado 2021; Turanovic et al. 2012). They may also experience difficulties navigating strained relationships with their incarcerated loved one, especially if they are caring for their loved one's children and therefore negotiating complexities related to childrearing and custody (Daniel and Barrett 1981; Engstrom 2008; Turanovic et al. 2012). Often, people experiencing familial incarceration face these challenges without social support because they are stigmatized due to their continued association with, and/or support of, their loved one (Benisty et al. 2021; Daniel and Barrett 1981; Turanovic et al. 2012).

Family members also face practical challenges in navigating the criminal legal system. For instance, it is often very difficult for them to understand the conditions of their family member's imprisonment and release, receive information about their incarcerated loved one (Daniel and Barrett 1981; Umamaheswar 2024a), and learn how to communicate with and visit their family member in prison (Benisty et al. 2021; Daniel and Barrett 1981; Naser and Visher 2006; Tadros et al. 2021, 2023). For many, footing the costs of visitation (which may include traveling far distances) and communication with their loved one strains already precarious finances (Benisty et al. 2021; Daniel and Barrett 1981; Engstrom 2008; Naser and Visher 2006; Tadros et al. 2019, 2023; Turanovic et al. 2012).

Although relatively limited, programs for families of people in prison seek to strengthen familial relationships (Peterson et al. 2019) and improve social support (Bradshaw and Muldoon 2020; Laakso and Nygaard 2012; Miller et al. 2013; Peterson et al. 2019). This paper extends research on family members of incarcerated people by first exploring the challenges of familial imprisonment and family members' experiences in a support group, and then providing concrete recommendations for how these support groups can be improved by incorporating evidence‐informed principles and programming.

4. Method

Data for this study stem from a larger ethnographic project conducted by the first author, in which she sought to (a) explore the challenges and support‐building strategies of families of people in prison; and (b) evaluate a family support group run by a local nonprofit restorative justice organization. The full dataset includes 8 months of ethnographic observations of this family support group and 27 in‐depth interviews over a 5‐month period with family members (eight of whom also attended the support group). Given the focus of this article on the promise and limitations of support groups, we draw on the first author's observations and in‐depth interviews with the eight family support group participants.

4.1. Ethnographic Observations of the Second Chance Family Support Group

Between October 2021 and June 2022, the first author observed a virtual family support group run by Second Chance, a (pseudonymous) nonprofit restorative justice organization in the Southeastern U.S. that helps incarcerated and reentering people as well as their loved ones. The family support group meets twice a month for 90 min, and during the COVID‐19 pandemic, it met only virtually. After obtaining IRB approval from George Mason University, the first author submitted a research proposal to Second Chance requesting the opportunity to observe the family support group sessions. She met with several members of the leadership team at Second Chance during the review process to ensure that her presence would not disrupt the trusting space that the support group represented. Facilitators first asked participants in the group (in the first author's absence) if they were willing to have her observe the sessions for research purposes. When it was clear that each family member was comfortable with her presence, the first author began the study by taking a strictly observational approach in acknowledgment of her role as an outsider. Over time, she became more immersed in the Second Chance community, and she gradually embraced a more active role in the support group sessions by (for example) offering insight based on her expertise in imprisonment and by arranging a guest speaker visit. In total, she observed 13 sessions over 8 months.

During the observation period, the first author also began volunteering as a member of Second Chance's Board of Directors. The first author was transparent with the families she observed about her role in the Second Chance community. Family members never explicitly referenced her role as a Second Chance board member, but several mentioned that their feelings of safety and comfort were shaped by the first author's investment in an organization that had greatly helped them.

Support group sessions typically included eight to 10 family members and were co‐facilitated by two Second Chance staff members. Participants “dropped in” for the support group sessions when they were able/interested. Some were long‐standing, consistent members of the support group, while others attended meetings more sporadically. Over the course of the data collection period, several family members joined the support group for the first time, and two family members who had stopped attending the sessions rejoined them after participating in an interview with the first author. The support group alternated between “open forum” sessions (in which family members spoke freely with one another) and themed/special topic sessions on issues such as how to support a loved one during reentry, the ins and outs of parole, etc. To respect the privacy of the support group members, the first author did not record the sessions she observed. Instead, she took “jottings” (Emerson et al. 2011) to record direct quotes and document notable observations. She then converted these jottings into fieldnotes that she analyzed through open and focused coding (described later).

4.2. In‐Depth Interviews With Family Members of Incarcerated People

After observing the family support group sessions for several weeks, the first author invited members to participate in an interview with her. She described these interviews as a way for her to understand each participant's unique experiences in more depth, and she explained that she was also interviewing family members who were unaffiliated with the support group. The group facilitators supported her recruitment efforts by emailing the support group listserv her flyer and encouraging participation.

The first author ultimately interviewed eight Second Chance family support group participants, and another 19 family members who were not involved in the Second Chance support group. The eight participants in the subsample used in this article were between the ages of 44 and 77 and included two men and six women. Five participants identified as white, two identified as Black, and one identified as Hispanic. Despite persistent attempts to recruit men, most of the interview participants in the broader sample identified as women (n = 23), with three participants identifying as men and one identifying as nonbinary. Additionally, every participant's family member in prison was a man. There are several factors that likely explain the gender composition of the sample. First, despite a rapid expansion in women's incarceration, men still constitute the majority of the U.S. incarcerated population (Carson 2021). Second, women overwhelmingly act as the support figures for people in prison (Booth et al. 2022). Finally, men supporting incarcerated family members may be less willing to express their vulnerabilities and share their experiences in an interview. For example, both Theresa (61, Black) and her husband participated frequently in the support group, but only Theresa volunteered to participate in an interview. She noted that her husband was equally supportive of their incarcerated son, but he was far less willing to talk about the challenges he faced. Theresa explained, “I need to verbalize it to get it out. He's just the opposite. He holds things in, and things internally happen to him.” This gendered dynamic is consistent with research showing that men are underrepresented in support group participation (Daynes‐Kearney and Gallagher 2023; Krizek et al. 1999; Taylor et al. 1986) and tend to engage in support groups differently from women (Mo et al. 2009). Regardless of the reason, it is important to bear in mind that the sample in this study does not fully capture the experiences of male relatives of incarcerated persons, and that the findings described here similarly may not extend to family members of incarcerated women.

The first author conducted the interviews on the phone or via videoconferencing, depending on participants' preferences. She emailed participants informed consent forms to review before their interview and obtained oral consent before beginning the interview. The interviews generally lasted approximately 75 min, with some extending to 2 h. In addition to asking for participants' demographic information (including details on their own incarceration histories), the first author asked participants mostly open‐ended questions related to their experiences of familial incarceration and their coping and support‐building strategies. The first author also added several questions to the interviews with support group members to evaluate the group. These questions asked about their broad opinions on the effectiveness of the support group, their perceptions on its usefulness, and their views on how it could be improved.

Throughout the research process, the author adopted an interpretivist stance, which requires researchers to think deeply and carefully about how their own identities, experiences, and biographies impact the research process (Charmaz 2014). Given the preponderance of women in the study sample, the first author's identity as a woman likely shaped participants' comfort in sharing their feelings (DeVault 1990). Furthermore, her identity as a person of color likely facilitated rapport‐building with non‐white participants who were interested in sharing their racialized experiences. The first author also made it clear to support group members and interview participants alike that she was conducting this study with the goal of informing/improving resources and programs that could help families with incarcerated loved ones. Several participants noted that her explicit acknowledgment of the harms of the prison system and her hope of ameliorating some of these harms helped them trust her more readily, despite her (initial) status as an outsider to the group.

The interviews were audio recorded with participants' consent and thereafter transcribed verbatim. The first author adopted an inductive, iterative process of data collection and analysis (Charmaz 2014) that involved the search for reappearing patterns in the data until the point of saturation, when further data collection was unlikely to yield new findings. Although the broader study was informed by existing research on the challenges of familial imprisonment, the first author did not wish to impose preexisting theories or ideas on the data. Instead, she relied on the flexible semi‐structured interview format to facilitate participants' expression of their experiences in their own terms (Olive 2014). Using Atlas.ti—a qualitative data analysis software—the first author developed initial codes and searched for emerging patterns in codes across interviews and fieldnotes through line‐by‐line coding. Analysis at this stage was focused narrowly on what participants were saying, doing, and feeling. Codes included, for example, “financial difficulty” or “uncertainty.” Next, she performed focused coding to develop more abstract categories. At this stage, the analysis was focused on developing themes based on earlier codes that continually reappeared, “[made] the most analytic sense and categorize[d] [the] data most accurately and completely” (Charmaz 2015, 40). During focused coding, the first author constructed analytic categories that captured and condensed the most salient earlier codes. For example, “financial difficulty” and “uncertainty” were subsumed under a broader coding category called “challenges of incarceration.” Throughout the coding process, the first author used analytic memos and visual “concept maps” to explore relationships between codes and categories (Butler‐Kisber and Poldma 2010).

5. Results

In the first section of our results, we discuss participants' psychological and emotional challenges before turning to the social difficulties that familial imprisonment generated. We then explore how participants coped with these challenges, highlighting the reasons that they turned to the support group. Finally, we discuss the improvements and/or changes to the support group that participants wished to see implemented.

5.1. Psychological and Emotional Challenges

Echoing prior findings (Benisty et al. 2021; King and Delgado 2021; Turanovic et al. 2012) participants in this study described losing their loved ones to the prison system as akin to losing a loved one to death. Participants mourned the relationship they had with their incarcerated family member, and they lamented the void that their loved one's imprisonment had created in their own lives. Stacy (44, white), for instance, described how she was “mourning the life that was,” Ruby (71, white) stated that having a loved one in prison “grieves you,” and Martin (74, Hispanic) said that the hardest part of his son's incarceration was “just a feeling that he's gone.” Theresa struggled immensely in the immediate aftermath of her son's incarceration, explaining that this period destroyed her “physically, mentally, and spiritually”:

At my every moment, I woke up with him on my mind, and I wrote everything I was thinking. I went through this grieving book that somebody gave me for people who actually was grieving because of death. But I felt like I was going through a death so I went through the grieving book. And the book went through the different steps of grieving. So, every step of grief, I was explaining to him how grief works, and what I was feeling. So, I wrote every letter until I finished the book, and I would mail it to him. And that was therapy for me.

Brenda ¹ was a long‐time member of the Second Chance support group, but she had not attended a session in some time because her son had been released from prison. Despite the fact that her son had been thriving in the community for 2 years since his release, Brenda described the anxiety that still plagued her. Brenda's son's drug addiction was the reason for his incarceration, and “deep in [her] soul,” she constantly worried about losing him again. Renee (56, white) similarly pointed to the mental toll of the uncertainty that familial imprisonment entailed. In describing the hardest part of having a loved one in prison, Renee said, “Just his future. I don't know how much time he's getting. Don't know how he's going to be when he gets out. Don't know if he's learned anything.” These narratives underscore how the shadow of incarceration extended well beyond the period of participants' loved ones' imprisonment and even reentry. Even if the grief of having a family member in the prison system dissipated, the psychological and emotional trauma that accompanied this experience endured.

5.2. Social Challenges

Participants' psychological hardships were exacerbated by their social isolation. Every single participant reported that their relationships with people in their social networks deteriorated when their loved ones were sent to prison. Participants' social isolation was both raced and classed, with Black family members worrying that others would perceive them as conforming to racist stereotypes about Black “criminals.” Theresa, for instance, noted that her family was “shocked” when they learned of her son's incarceration because she came from a nuclear, middle‐class, Black family. She elaborated:

I know what most people think about Black families. I hate to say that, but… But we had a really strong Black family with a mother and a father at home. And my father worked and my mom was a homemaker. And a lot of…we have a very strong sense of right and wrong. And we were raised that way. And none of her seven children have ever gone to prison for anything.

Theresa's son's incarceration represented a “big embarrassment” for her family, and she did not feel comfortable returning to her church either because she worried about the “judgment” she would face there as well. Frances (69, Black) similarly noted how the intersection of her race and class generated a distinctive sense of shame and self‐consciousness. Frances lived in a “very nice”, “upscale,” resort‐style retirement community, and she was intensely embarrassed by the commotion that occurred when the police arrested her son. She explained, “The police were all out here, the ambulance was all out here, my neighbors were out here and I'm a woman of color, the only African American person on my street.”

In one support group session, Stacy mentioned that she and her incarcerated husband were “upper middle‐class people,” and they knew almost nobody who had been to prison. As a result, Stacy felt that they did not have “anybody to look to for that redemption.” In her interview, Stacy again noted that she felt her experience was “different” because she had very little exposure to the criminal legal system. Although she did not mention her race explicitly, Stacy felt that familial incarceration was normalized among “people who are statistically more likely to have a family member incarcerated.” These people, in Stacy's view, were “the lower socioeconomic [groups]” and “immigrants.” Where Black participants like Theresa and Frances grappled with being reduced to a racist caricature, white participants like Stacy felt that the stigma they faced was worse precisely because of their privilege. Regardless of their biographies, all these family members recognized that stigma in the context of familial imprisonment was both raced and classed.

In addition to struggling to find their footing in communities that could or would not support them, participants realized that they also had to navigate institutional bureaucracies that seemed purposefully obfuscating. Data collection for this study occurred when COVID‐19 restrictions were still in place, and arranging prison visits was therefore an arduous task for many family members. Stacy, for example, noted that “You have zero idea how the process works. Zero idea how to get in contact with your loved one, just nothing, no knowledge of how that system works. And so you're going, ‘what do I do?’” For Ruby, the sheer distance she had to travel to visit her incarcerated husband was a major obstacle in their relationship. Highlighting how her psychological difficulties intersected with her social ones, Ruby said:

I'm just very sad all the time that all this has happened, and COVID has not helped. I haven't been able to see him and he is all the way down at [prison name], which is all the way the other… I'm up at the one end of the state, and he's at the other end of the state. So it's a three‐and‐a‐half hour drive to see him. So just going and coming back is hard. I'm always extremely sad when I go and when I come back (…).

Every participant commented on how the prison regimen made it difficult for them to preserve their relationships fully, even when they were able to stay in contact with their loved ones. For instance, Greg (77, white) described how “of course, everything is recorded, so [my son] really can't talk to me the way he'd really talk to me.” Greg also expressed a deep fear about the physical danger that his son was facing in prison, noting that “in jail, one thing you don't do is snitch. So if something's happening in the jail, he really can't say over the phone.” As a result of these constraints, Greg was forced to resign himself to unfulfilling conversations with his son about “general stuff.” Ruby, on the other hand, found that she did not want to talk to her incarcerated husband more than once a day because “it makes you sad, knowing that you have to talk to him like that.”

Perhaps most distressingly, family members had to cope with the conflict that stemmed from their loved ones' own frustrations with imprisonment. Support group sessions often focused on the importance of setting boundaries with loved ones in prison because participants consistently shared the relentless pressure they felt to offer their loved ones attention and interaction. In one session, for example, Julia shared how her son would call her “100 times a day,” despite being given specific windows when Julia was available. In desperation, Julia had resorted simply to blocking her son's calls. Anabel commiserated with Julia, expressing frustration toward her son, who insisted on calling her on the precise day on which she asked him not to call. Anabel lamented how her son would “yell” at her when she reminded him of her time constraints, stating that this conflict‐ridden dynamic was “very, very common” in the context of familial imprisonment.

5.3. Coping Mechanisms

5.3.1. Psychological and Emotional Coping Strategies

To cope with their volatile relationships with their incarcerated loved ones and with their own social isolation, family members relied on a range of psychological and emotional coping strategies. Martin turned to religion, stating, “I go to church often and pray every day, and [my son] is always in the prayers.” Recognizing the disempowerment attached to having a loved one in prison, Renee also described the significance of faith in her life:

I'm involved in church groups and I like that a lot…I don't know what anybody's future is. But it helps because I am not in control. I just have faith that things are going to be the way they should be.

Other participants described the importance of finding ways to occupy themselves in the community so that their loved ones' predicament did not become all‐consuming. Recall, for instance, how Theresa would compulsively write to her son during the early stages of his incarceration. Theresa ultimately recognized the toll of this coping strategy on her well‐being, stating, “I just had to say, ‘Okay, this is not good.’ I had to come to that conclusion.” Now, Theresa channeled that energy into her work:

I felt it very hard to move forward. I forced myself to. That's why I kind of started the business. I work like a work horse at work because that's how I kind of deal. Some people drink, some people eat, some people run; I work.

5.4. Support‐Building Strategies

Although participants' psychological and emotional coping strategies helped them maintain their own lives alongside their obligations to their family members in prison, many found continued engagement in the community too difficult to sustain. As a result of the stigma (and sometimes outright hostility) they perceived from others, participants deliberately withdrew from society, exacerbating their social isolation. Participants' intentional withdrawal underscores the importance of distinguishing between coping and resilience: Although self‐isolating helped family members cope with the stigma they faced, it ultimately reinforced their peripheral location in society. Stacy, for instance, reported, “I've done a number of things to intentionally pull back from the outside society. I've stopped watching the news or listening to the news. I hardly know what's going on in the world anymore.” Frances (69, Black) similarly stated, “I make a big practice of minding my own business. A lot of times I just stay here in my home.” It is this sense of marginalization and isolation that drew participants to support groups.

Frances was involved in multiple groups that served different functions in her life. She participated in a women's Bible study group that provided her with a valuable support network, and she was also involved in a Narcotics Anonymous group that was helping her support her incarcerated son, who struggled with substance abuse. She noted that the common strand in these groups was the value they placed on faith and spirituality. Frances' faith and her participation in support groups together constituted her primary form of coping:

But the thing that has been even more helpful than the Bible study is the Nar‐Anon group, which is founded on spiritual principles. They don't talk about any denomination, but they do talk about the reality of God and a higher power. And I've often read that in adverse situations like people in concentration camps and things like that, people who tend to survive are people who have some type of faith system, have a belief in some power higher than themselves. And I've been very conscious of that fact. So I've tried to cultivate that in my life.

The support group offered family members a space where they could express emotions that they felt others who have not walked their path could not possibly understand. As Theresa explained, the support group allowed family members to “get the feeling, especially in my case, that you're not the only one in the world that's going through this.” For Theresa, the support group was a “safe place where I can talk.” The staff members that facilitated the support group were deeply committed to cultivating this kind of safe space, but they also tried to keep the support group sessions dynamic and evolving to accommodate the needs and interests of new as well as long‐standing participants.

Notably, the sessions were never focused entirely on the struggles that participants faced, and there were many moments of happiness and humor. In one session, for instance, conversation turned to the creative recipes that people in prison develop as alternatives to unsatisfying prison‐issued food. Stacy explained that her husband “eats vicariously” through her, and when Sienna (a facilitator) asked her about the funniest recipe her husband had shared from his time in prison, Stacy described a “jail pizza” (a tortilla with ketchup and squeezed cheese). These light‐hearted interactions often emerged from (or led to) more serious conversations about the experience of direct or indirect imprisonment. Participants' fascination with prison food, for instance, prompted the first author to arrange for a colleague to present a guest lecture so that families could learn more about how the construction of food within prison walls represented a coping and resistance strategy.

Martin, one of the most consistent participants (and one of very few men) in the support group, often made playful jabs at his wife, who did not attend any of the observed sessions. In one session, he said that his wife's “personality is anger” to describe her negative emotions following their son's incarceration. Sienna jokingly asked whether his wife was within listening distance, to which Martin laughingly replied, “she's upstairs; I can talk.” Martin used this humorous exchange to segue into a deeper, more sober conversation about his wife's struggles. When Martin shared that his wife was reluctant to follow through with their plans to move out of state because of their son's 10‐year prison sentence, Laura (another family support group member) was empathetic, recognizing that his wife “was in prison with [their son].” Participants thus offered and received support in the context of a close‐knit community of people who shared in each other's struggles, triumphs, and losses.

The support group in this study also functioned to restore participants' sense of agency by allowing them to help and guide others facing the same challenges they were. In Stacy's words, “I've always looked at sharing challenges as if my journey can be an encouragement for somebody else. If my journey can be educational for somebody else, then I'm ready to share.” When asked about her reasons for becoming involved in the support group, Renee (like many other family members) did not cite her own well‐being; instead, she emphasized how she saw the support group as a way for her to help others who found themselves as isolated and marginalized as she was:

I don't know anybody that has anybody incarcerated, you know what I mean? Here, I've had two people in my life. Why go through all that pain if you can't help somebody fight through it? You know what I mean?

5.5. Areas for Improvement and Growth

Thus far, we have focused on the first of this study's goals, which was to explore the challenges and support‐building strategies of family members of people in prison. To evaluate the support group, the first author asked participants questions about changes they would like to see implemented and/or ways the support group could be improved. In this section, we highlight the areas for improvement and growth that emerged through both observations and interviews.

Despite the acceptance and validation they found in the support group, family members continued to struggle with the day‐to‐day challenges of having a loved one in prison. Participants thus wished that the support group focused more on compiling resources and facilitating access to information for families with loved ones in prison:

I would really love to see [the support group] kind of compile a resource list—just a compendium of a variety of resources that would be included as a link in every invitation. And not just for that particular meeting's topic, but for other meetings. A historical record, if you will, of resources that have been brought up that have been used, that other people have found helpful, things that the folks know about that family members might not because you don't know where to look. (Stacy)

I'm thinking maybe they can expand this effort to maybe have a 15‐minute part of the session on, okay, here are the laws, here are the rules, here's what's happening in the prison system or in the jail systems, [here's what] is changing. Just to kind of keep people up with things that are going on. (Martin)

Additionally, although participants appreciated the invitation to express their troubles, the support group did not always feel like a safe place for them to do so. Renee joined the support group toward the end of the first author's observation period. In her first session, an additional Second Chance staff member was shadowing the two group facilitators as she prepared to become a facilitator herself. In addition to the three Second Chance staff members, the first author and a guest speaker were present, along with only a small handful of family members. Renee did not know what to expect of this first session, and in a subsequent interview, she explained that she “felt a little under the microscope.” When asked to clarify the source of her discomfort, Renee stated that she did not like that the guest speaker was invited to stay after her presentation was complete. In her words, “how are you supposed to support? How are you supposed to bare your soul or something if you're not going to see that person ever again?” Although support group participants who attended the sessions consistently became very familiar with one another, Renee (who described herself as a “very private person”) captured the sense of vulnerability that many participants felt when they tried to share their most private struggles with a roomful of strangers.

Facilitators tried to implement some structure by (for example) beginning sessions with a relevant video or therapeutic, wellness‐focused exercise, but family members nevertheless expressed discomfort with the free‐ranging nature of the sessions. The facilitators were committed to giving participants the space to talk as much or as little as they wished and about the topics they were most interested in discussing. As a result, conversations were often meandering in ways that made some participants long for more structure. When asked if there were any improvements she would like to see in the group, for example, Theresa recognized how some people “just need to talk,” but she still wished the group facilitators were more assertive in guiding the discussion:

Just knowing how to guide a small group. Don't let people go off on a tangent too long, but some people just need to talk or whatever. A lot of that is just (…) learning to be a good facilitator and not let one or two people dominate. Knowing how to gently turn a conversation so everybody can get a chance to respond, or talk, or whatever.

In one support group session, participants had been sharing anecdotes about their family members in prison when Bahar—a long‐standing support group member whose adult son had been in and out of the criminal legal system for many years—belatedly joined the session. Bahar quietly asked Sienna, “wanna explain what happened to me?” Sienna asked Bahar to tell her story herself, prompting Bahar to launch into a graphic description of how her son had physically attacked her the night before and was now reincarcerated. Bahar's body still showed marks of the violence to which she had been subjected, and the session quickly became very emotionally charged. In an attempt to express solidarity with Bahar, Frances shared that she had endured similar violence from her own adult son. Responding to Bahar and Frances' disclosures of abuse, Sienna commented, “I don't know how this might come off and I'm sorry, but I believe when an individual is not on their medication, they black out. They just blank. It's hard for everyone.” During this entire episode, Theresa was utterly silent. In her subsequent interview, Theresa shared that she kept looking at her own facial expression in the camera during this exchange, willing herself to “keep a blank face” and not “respond physically” to what she was hearing. Theresa confessed that she was unable to sleep for 2 days following this session because she was so deeply perturbed—both by the other members' disclosures of the violence they experienced and by the facilitators' response to these disclosures:

How do you get to a point where you are staying in that situation and thinking about them so much that you've put your own self at jeopardy? Then the other part I'm thinking, well, why isn't somebody saying something about her safety? Why is all the emphasis on them? So I had to wrestle with that. I lost sleep over that, and it grieved me that anybody would get physically assaulted, but especially a mom. It really, really, really, really did bother me.

In the days following this session, Theresa found herself worrying that she was going to find herself in the same predicament as the other mothers in the group. She explained that the thought had never occurred to her prior to this session, but after listening to the other participants' stories, she wondered, “okay, well, what, what am I going to do if this do happen? Is this the way it's going to go down? I don't know.” Theresa's desire for more evidence‐informed therapeutic guidance was clear when she said, “I know I'm not a psychiatrist or anything like that, but I'm thinking about safety is always first. You can't help anybody if you're laying in a hospital with a concussion or something.” Theresa felt that other support group members would greatly benefit from conversations guided by a trained professional who was able and willing to tell them when something was clearly unhealthy or unsafe instead of focusing solely on their loved ones in prison. Importantly, although she was now preparing for her son's release from prison, Theresa emphasized that she herself would have appreciated therapeutic assistance in the early stages of her son's incarceration:

First, you have to understand what the families are going through even before [you] create some type of real support system. And then, you have to have professionals. I would've liked to have sat down with a psychiatrist, or worker, or something that understood the effect that incarceration has on a family member, that understood where we are going, what we're going through, and try to give us some kind of guidance in what to do.

In the next section, we offer several clinical recommendations based on the challenges that participants described and their perspectives about what role the support group served in their lives. Access to individualized therapeutic care is unfortunately often financially and/or logistically unattainable, especially for people shouldering the social and financial cost of having a loved one in prison. It is therefore even more important that free and relatively accessible support groups like the one observed in this study be evidence‐informed in precisely the ways that Theresa described. Our aim in providing the recommendations in the next section is to take a step toward developing the kind of robust, well‐rounded care that families of people in prison want, and from which they would greatly benefit.

6. Clinical Recommendations

The findings we have described do not paint a promising picture about family members' ability to thrive in the face of a loved one's imprisonment as family resilience scholars might hope, but we must recognize that resilience does not always require thriving. Instead, it is more meaningful to see resilience as a person's ability to endure and adapt under immense stress. Although participants' coping strategies facilitated their ability to endure familial imprisonment, some coping strategies (such as self‐isolating) risked inhibiting their resilience (Rutter 2007; Zimmer‐Gembeck and Skinner 2016). In this section, we offer several suggestions for improvements to family support groups that might help family members cope in ways that move beyond sheer survival (Umamaheswar 2024a) and instead help participants flourish even under trying circumstances.

Participants in this study encountered intersecting difficulties, including grief, fear, and disruptions to safety and stability. The stigma that family members faced further intensified these challenges. Their trauma was entangled with feelings of powerlessness, strained relationships, and the cumulative stress of navigating systemic obstacles. Several participants noted that hearing others' traumatic experiences sometimes heightened their distress instead of alleviating it. This finding underscores the need for trained professionals to guide trauma processing in a safe, structured manner to mitigate the risk of secondary trauma. Interventions for these families must therefore be trauma‐informed: They must prioritize safety, trust, and empowerment, which in turn can promote healing and recovery (Arditti 2018; Morgan et al. 2021; Tadros and Nibhanupudi 2023).

To support healing and resilience, facilitators must be equipped to recognize the signs of trauma and provide a supportive environment. We reiterate the importance of having trained professionals who can offer evidence‐informed therapeutic guidance, prioritize the safety of participants, and intervene when necessary to address unhealthy behaviors or unsafe situations. Integrating evidence‐informed therapeutic techniques (such as cognitive‐behavioral strategies) may also increase the effectiveness of support group interventions.

Trained professionals leading support groups should assess members for past trauma before commencing group sessions and cultivate safety and respect within the group setting to prevent inadvertent re‐traumatization and ensure appropriate, non‐pathologizing services (Baird and Alaggia 2021). A trauma‐informed approach can facilitate the development of a safe space in which even reluctant participants (like some described in this study) are comfortable sharing their challenges (Morgan et al. 2021). To ensure the physical, mental, and emotional well‐being of participants, group facilitators should also be prepared to provide resources and referrals to professional mental health services when needed.

Although some participants found comfort in shared experiences, others expressed ongoing struggles with intrusive thoughts and anxiety, suggesting a need for tailored professional intervention. Our findings highlight that a one‐size‐fits‐all approach to emotional support is insufficient, as individuals vary in their ability to cope with distress. In addition, participants reported facing persistent day‐to‐day challenges that extended beyond what peer support groups can address, such as navigating complex legal systems, managing financial strain, and coping with the stigma of incarceration. Without targeted therapeutic support, these ongoing stressors may exacerbate anxiety and feelings of isolation. Professional intervention would ideally include personalized coping strategies, address underlying trauma, and offer a structured space for processing emotions—services that peer support alone may not fully provide.

Participants' narratives reflected the deep emotional labor involved in maintaining connections under conditions of uncertainty and distress. At the individual level, first and foremost, family members affected by incarceration should have access to professionals who understand the unique challenges that those impacted by incarceration face. Participants reported that although peer support provided emotional validation, they struggled with implementing behavioral changes, such as boundary‐setting and emotional regulation, which are skills typically developed in therapeutic settings. Participants' frustration and helplessness suggest that they recognized the importance of boundary‐setting, but practical application of these skills was more difficult. As a result, participants often responded reactively (by blocking calls from their incarcerated loved one, for example) instead of engaging in the kind of productive communication that therapeutic care might help them learn. Without therapeutic support, participants may continue to rely on short‐term, emotionally driven responses that do not facilitate long‐term coping or relational stability.

This study's findings further highlight the deeply embedded racial and class‐based stigmas that shape the experiences of family members with incarcerated loved ones. Black participants struggled with being reduced to racist stereotypes about Black criminality, whereas white participants perceived their experiences as uniquely isolating because of their privileged social positioning. Given the varied ways in which participants experienced the stigma associated with familial imprisonment, group facilitators/therapists should ensure that their therapeutic approach can be adapted based on who is present at a support group during any given session. A nimble approach is particularly important for “drop in” support groups whose members may change from session to session.

Research on familial adaptations to adversity suggests that increased knowledge can help family members understand their loved one's challenges and reduce familial conflict (Anderson et al. 1980; Tadros et al. 2021; Tadros and Finney 2018), both of which would be highly beneficial for family members. To enhance the social benefits of the family support group, facilitators should compile a comprehensive resource list with links to relevant information and services for families of people in prison, and they should regularly update this list and make it accessible to all support group members. To further enable members' knowledge acquisition and exchange, facilitators should dedicate time during sessions to discussing changes in laws, policies, and procedures within the criminal legal system, updating members on relevant legal developments, and empowering participants to advocate for themselves and their loved ones more effectively. For example, Anderson et al.'s (1986) family psychoeducation model (which emphasizes family support, education, and coping strategies) is well‐suited for justice‐impacted families, where relational strain and mental health challenges are common. Psychoeducational groups could involve structured sessions to help families understand incarceration's psychological effects, strengthen family bonds, and navigate the difficulties of imprisonment and reentry, thereby promoting resilience and cohesion (Anderson et al. 1986).

This study's findings further highlight that collaborative support for family members of incarcerated people is both crucial and beneficial. The collaborative nature of support groups can help reduce the stressors that stem from the stigma of having an incarcerated loved one. Participants felt validated when they expressed their emotions and experiences in a group with others walking a similar path. These shared efforts fostered moments of happiness and humor—symbols of resilience. The collective nature of the group allowed for positive moments during an immensely stressful period, which mitigated the effects of isolation and stigma. A systemic perspective would further support healing by allowing participants to be fully present for each other under the guidance of an informed systemic therapist. This collaborative approach could foster an environment where resilience is built not only through individual expression but also through shared experiences and mutual support, ultimately strengthening the group's collective ability to cope and heal together. Here, family members engaged in dialogue about their challenges and anxieties would greatly benefit from facilitators who actively guide discussions and who clearly communicate their expectations for healthy and productive group participation (Datchi and Sexton 2013).

Participants generally identified the group as a safe place to gain knowledge and resources as well as exchange emotional support. To reinforce these benefits, we recommend that a professional counselor facilitate discussions on effective listening, setting boundaries and goals, building support networks, and enhancing self‐care practices (Pettus‐Davis 2021). Even as family members recognized the immense value of sharing with others who were walking the same path as they were, however, they also recognized the need for more tailored therapeutic support for specific participant subgroups (such as family members experiencing physical abuse by adult children, for example). Unfortunately, resources for these subgroups are even more scarce than general support groups for family members of people in prison. Recognizing the absence of more tailored support opportunities for these individuals, group facilitators should explore strategies for reducing stress, processing emotions constructively, and effectively communicating needs and boundaries, especially within the parent‐adult child relationship. By encouraging parents and other caregivers to prioritize their well‐being, group facilitators can enhance their resilience as well as their capacity to provide care.

Finally, our findings indicate that, despite the acceptance and validation experienced in the support group, family members of incarcerated individuals continued to have persistent day‐to‐day social, emotional, and material challenges. We encourage the development of programs that can offer consistent emotional and financial support, which may encompass counseling services, peer support networks, and educational resources to assist participants in overcoming logistical challenges such as visitation. Group facilitators should consider highlighting the benefits of individualized couple and family therapy in support group sessions to raise awareness about the importance of professional therapeutic intervention for both incarcerated individuals and their loved ones. Despite the scarcity of marriage and family therapists in carceral settings, advocating for such services is important for efforts to promote holistic healing and strengthen family relationships.

7. Conclusion

Our article extends existing research on familial imprisonment by connecting family members' challenges to their community‐building strategies, specifically in the context of a support group. Family resilience scholars have shown that families can do well in the face of adversity (Arditti and Johnson 2022; Patterson 2002; Walsh 1996, 2003); this article represents a first step toward the development of support groups that are evidence‐informed in ways that promote this kind of resilience. Although support groups alone cannot necessarily replace individual, couple, or family therapy or enact systemic change, they can serve as a crucial immediate resource for sustaining and rebuilding familial connections during and after incarceration, offering a foundation for ongoing support and empowerment. Support groups can act as important interventions that help families cultivate resilience and navigate the ongoing impact of incarceration by addressing compounded, interconnected forms of trauma related to psychological challenges (such as grief), social difficulties (such as isolation and stigma) and even structural problems (such as racism).

There are several limitations to our study that are worth noting. First, as mentioned, the majority of our interview participants were women, despite the first author's best efforts to recruit men. This issue persists across studies on the families of incarcerated people (Condry 2013), pointing to the urgency of research that is more intentionally focused on the needs of, and challenges faced by, men supporting incarcerated loved ones. Research on family members (regardless of gender) supporting incarcerated women would also be welcome, given that every single participant (across both the observations and interviews) was supporting an incarcerated man.

Finally, while the virtual format of the support group facilitated participation among family members who may otherwise have been unable to attend the sessions, conducting observations online limited the first author's ability to “go deeper into the characteristics” of some members' identities (Masullo and Coppola 2023). For example, for their own comfort, some members chose to have their cameras off during the sessions and to identify themselves on Zoom only by their first name or initials. Support group facilitators respected these choices, which seemed to be unconnected to the first author's presence, given how willingly even these participants divulged personal information in her presence. The first author tried to remedy this limitation of online observations by inviting participants to an in‐depth interview where she could learn more about them. The interviews effectively supplemented and deepened the observational data, but this was of course only true for the eight support group members who agreed to participate in the interview. Future researchers should consider exploring whether support groups for families of incarcerated people work differently—and perhaps more effectively—if they are conducted in person.

Above all, we join other researchers in advocating for more evaluation research that assesses the efficacy and impact of programs for families of incarcerated people (Arditti and Johnson 2022). Such research is essential in improving and expanding the programs available for families impacted by imprisonment, whose voices are too often silenced and whose experiences too often dismissed.

Conflicts of Interest

The authors declare no conflicts of interest.