In New Orleans, Calvin Duncan - a man who spent 30 years incarcerated for a murder conviction later vacated - has just been elected clerk of criminal court. His victory isn’t just historic; it’s a reminder that the people most harmed by the criminal legal system often understand its failures better than anyone else. 

Every few years, the anti-trafficking field releases another report diagnosing its own dysfunction. The Safehouse Project’s recent white paper is the latest to outline the emotional toll of the work, the predictable cycles of vicarious trauma, low wages, inconsistent leadership, and the churn that destabilizes survivor support. 

Let’s talk about hunger.

Let’s skip the polite economic euphemisms and call this what it is: we are headed straight for the mountain, and the seatbelt light just came on. Inflation’s not cooling; it’s calcifying. Wages haven’t caught up, rent’s still a blood sport, groceries feel like luxury items, and if you’ve tried to buy a used car lately, you know it’s giving “end times barter system” vibes. 

Community-led services and support for incarcerated women being released from prison are grounded in one radical belief: that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution. Rather than imposing top-down programs that often miss the mark, grassroots organizations across the country—many founded and led by formerly incarcerated women—offer holistic, peer-based support that centers dignity, autonomy, and lived experience.