Recidivism Isn’t a Character Flaw: Let’s Talk About Second, Third, and Fourth Chances
We love a good comeback story.
A person hits rock bottom, turns it all around, and makes us believe in redemption. We cheer when someone gets their “second chance.” But here’s the uncomfortable truth: real life isn’t a one-time redemption arc.
Sometimes second chances aren’t enough. Sometimes people need a third. A fourth. Maybe more.
And instead of grace, they get judgment.
Recidivism—the revolving door of re-arrest and re-incarceration—is often framed as a personal failure. Like someone didn’t try hard enough. Like they didn’t “learn their lesson.” Like they’re just not the kind of person who’s capable of change.
But recidivism isn’t a character flaw. It’s a reflection of systems that offer shallow chances and expect deep transformation.
I’ve worked with hundreds of justice-impacted students and adults over the years, and I can tell you: the vast majority want to succeed. They want stable housing, real work, peace of mind, and the ability to be seen as something other than their worst decision. But want isn't enough.
They’re sent home with big hopes and a bus pass. No ID, no job, no money, and in many cases, no therapy, no medical care, and no support. We say, “Welcome back,” but we mean, “Don’t mess up.” We don’t set them up to thrive—we set them up to prove they’re exceptional just to survive.
And when they stumble—as most of us would—we act surprised.
Let me tell you about “James” (name changed), who was released after 17 years and enrolled in a culinary training program. He showed up every day. Polite. Focused. Determined. But when his housing fell through and he relapsed after years of sobriety, he was cut from the program. “He blew his second chance,” they said.
No one asked how hard it is to build a life without a foundation.
Or “Denise,” who was trying to parent, stay sober, and finish her GED all at once. She missed class twice to make court-mandated parenting classes and was dropped from her educational program for lack of attendance. “She wasn’t committed.” No one considered how exhausting it is to rebuild while constantly proving your worth.
This mindset—that second chances are a singular opportunity rather than an ongoing investment—hurts everyone. It leaves no room for the nonlinear, complicated, real process of change.
So what if we shifted the narrative?
What if we normalized the idea that healing is messy? That recovery has setbacks? That progress isn’t always linear, and that success doesn’t look the same for everyone?
What if we made support systems that expect people to fall down and are ready to help them up, again and again?
And what if, instead of asking whether someone “deserves” another chance, we asked what systems need to be in place to make that chance work?
If we want to reduce recidivism, we need more than job fairs and slogans. We need mental health care, housing, family reunification services, trauma-informed classrooms, and employers who understand that “formerly incarcerated” doesn’t mean “forever broken.”
Because grace shouldn’t have a punch card.
☕
Until next Sunday,
Amy
P.S. At Hand2Heart DC, we meet returning citizens exactly where they are—with coaching, job training, healing spaces, and a whole lot of humanity. We believe in the power of possibility, even when the path isn't perfect.
If this message resonates with you, consider making a donation today. Every dollar helps us keep the door open—for one more person who’s ready to try again.
Let’s make sure second chances don’t stop at two.
