By Mary, CEO NYC Participant
Coming home on October 1, 2024, I knew that reentering society would be a job in itself. I had all my paperwork ready and followed every rule I was supposed to follow. Yet, despite calling and following up constantly, I didn't receive benefits until mid-December. That two-and-a-half-month wait was a stark reminder of how hard this path would be. Programs like Medicaid are essential to people like me who cannot afford healthcare in an economy where basic medical costs are dangerously high.
Right now, I have a part-time job. I am deeply grateful for it, but I don't get many hours. It takes time to build up to required thresholds, which is why receiving a letter in the mail from the Human Resources Administration (HRA) about new work requirements felt so discouraging. The letter warned that missing appointments could reduce my benefits or cut them off completely. Rigid rules like this do not account for our day-to-day reality. Many of us are doing everything to survive, yet we are met with policies that treat us like numbers instead of individuals.
The barriers go far beyond work hours. Finding housing and medical treatment within 90 days is extremely difficult when local organizations face long waiting lists or full capacity. Even getting basic documentation, like a state ID or birth certificate, becomes an overwhelming, expensive, and confusing ordeal—especially for someone who was recently released and lacks clear guidance or financial support. My own interactions with HRA were tense and confusing, with staff who were stressed, impatient, and rushed.
My single biggest challenge has been finding steady employment with a criminal background. It takes constant effort to stay motivated, rebuild credit, and deal with judgment that gets thrown back in your face. All it takes is connecting with one person who is willing to look past your history and say, "Yes, I am going to give you a chance."
Today, I am fortunate to be familiar using a smartphone so I can navigate applications and submit documents quickly. But I constantly think about those who lack digital access, strong support networks, or basic reading literacy. Without direct help, pulling up required documents is nearly impossible. Small details and acts of support make a world of difference when someone already feels less than.
If I could speak directly to the decision-makers and staff, I would tell them that good communication and empathy go a long way. People need real support, and the process needs to change, perhaps through dedicated departments that understand the unique realities of reentry.
Medicaid and support programs are not just statistics; they are often the only way people can survive, stay healthy, and rebuild their lives. Stopping the cycle starts with understanding that every person's situation is different, and even helping one person change their life makes it worth it.
