Incarceration rate of KY women is indictment of entire system. We can do better | Opinion

A recent Herald-Leader article on women in Kentucky’s jails opened with a stunning line: “If Kentucky were its own country, the commonwealth would incarcerate women at a higher rate than every nation in the world except El Salvador.”

This startling statistic underscores a painful truth: our justice system was not built with women in mind. National data gathered by the Council on Criminal Justice’s Women’s Justice Commission confirms it — and the implications for Kentucky’s women, families, and communities are profound. I’m proud to serve on the Commission, and share that our findings and front-end justice system recommendations are available.

First, the system we have today was largely designed for men, who still make up 90% of the incarcerated population. Yet women are the fastest-growing segment of that system, and have been for several years in Kentucky, now accounting for 27% of all adult arrests, nearly double their share in 1980. Since pandemic-era reductions in incarceration, women’s jail rates have rebounded far faster than men’s — up 33% from 2020 to 2023, compared to a 17% increase for men. In 2023, roughly 186,000 women were behind bars across the U.S. The numbers alone, however, tell only part of the story.

Second, women’s pathways into the justice system differ dramatically from men’s. The Commission’s report makes clear that women’s arrests and convictions are rarely the product of predatory behavior or organized criminal intent. Rather, they often reflect a web of trauma, poverty, and untreated mental health or substance use disorders, compounded by unstable housing and family obligations. I wrote about how this reality hit hard as the Commission met earlier this year.

Over 90% of justice-involved women have endured some form of physical or sexual violence, bullying, or witnessed extreme violence — often beginning in childhood and continuing through adulthood. Many of these women are not predators; they are survivors. Our system should have accountability, certainly, but it should just as certainly consider the circumstances that led to their criminal conduct in the first place, and the invaluable roles they have in their families and communities.

Economic hardship is another powerful driver. One in five women in prison reported being homeless in the year before their arrest, compared with just 13% of men. Such instability can push women toward crimes of survival — thefts, minor frauds, or substance-related offenses — that reflect desperation, not danger to others. And when incarceration follows, it often severs the fragile supports that sustain families and communities. One of the people we heard from remarked that no one asks the men in prison who’s taking care of their kids on the outside. In fact, the vast majority of incarcerated mothers were primary caregivers before their arrest. But when the mother is arrested, the best case scenarios involve a community of family or neighbors pitching in to make do. The worst case scenarios involve foster care placements, family and economic hardship, and another generation of trauma.

The Commission report also highlights the glaring gap between women’s actual risk to public safety and the intensity of their punishment. Women score consistently lower than men on risk-assessment tools, are 8% less likely to be rearrested, 9% less likely to be re-convicted, and 13% less likely to return to prison within five years of release. Yet their incarceration rates continue to rise. We are locking up more women than ever, even as the data show they are less likely to reoffend.

That contradiction reveals a deeper flaw in our justice system: it measures success by convictions and capacity, not by recovery or reintegration. State legislators tend to measure success similarly. But if Kentucky wants safer communities and stronger families, we must build a justice system that recognizes women’s distinct needs and offers a meaningful path to wholeness — one that treats trauma, restores dignity, and repairs relationships.

That means intervening earlier, especially in the pretrial and diversion phases where change is still possible, and before more harm is done. Kentucky’s courts, jails, and community agencies can work together to screen women for trauma histories, mental health conditions, and caregiving responsibilities at first contact — not after incarceration. In fact, we’ve already laid the groundwork for such an intervention and it’s working. It means funding and expanding community-based alternatives that offer treatment and stability rather than punishment and separation.

It also means investing in recovery-oriented systems of care. Substance use among justice-involved women is often a symptom, not the root cause. Nationally, two-thirds of women in jail or prison have a diagnosable mental health disorder, compared with about one-third of men. When those conditions are untreated, relapse and recidivism follow. But if we address the underlying trauma, through evidence-based therapy, peer support, housing assistance, and family services, the results are transformative. That’s a big “if.”

Such a whole person recovery approach isn’t soft or wasteful; it’s smart and effective. The Commission rightly concludes that tailoring early system responses to women’s realities — their histories, risks, and responsibilities — not only prevents crime but also “strengthens families, improves health, and breaks cycles of victimization and incarceration.” Kentucky’s public safety strategy should do no less.

The women entering our justice system are mothers, daughters, and neighbors — many carrying pain the system, and regrettably too many lawmakers, never pauses to understand. They deserve a chance not just to live within the law, but to heal. Justice for them, and for their children, will come not through longer sentences or undue supervision for the sake of toughness, but through a system that values and enables both correction and recovery.

It’s time to build that system — one that doesn’t just process women, but restores them. That’s how we achieve a justice system worthy of its name.

Whitney Westerfield is an attorney, a three-term state senator, evangelical Christian, husband, and father of five.