By Rachel Crumpler

Mona Evans left prison on May 2, 2022, after almost five years spent behind bars. 

She traded the clanging doors, constant supervision and sterile environment of Anson Correctional Institution in Polkton — a town about one hour east of Charlotte — for a quiet 13-acre farm in rural Alamance County.

Housing and employment awaited her on her first day back in the community at Benevolence Farm, a rural reentry program and social enterprise supporting women leaving incarceration.

When Evans set foot on the property for the first time, it was a breath of fresh air — literally. Surrounded by nature for the first time in years, she basked in the sunlight and rows of flowers and herbs in bloom. 

When she entered her room in the three-bedroom farmhouse, she saw that staff had purchased crochet hooks, yarn and a journal for her — all in her favorite color purple. She had a cabinet in the kitchen stocked with her favorite snacks, like potato chips and chocolate doughnuts. She was handed a cell phone that she used for hours that first night talking to her kids.

Evans said she was refreshingly treated like an individual human again — something that had long been lost from the monotonous treatment in prison. 

During that first week, she started getting paid to produce the farm’s body care and candle products, applied for state IDs, paid parking tickets and went shopping at Walmart. 

Benevolence Farm provided a safe landing ground and solid foundation of support, Evans said, as she grappled with establishing her life in the community again — this time with the stigma of a criminal record. 

“A lot of stuff that you stress about as far as coming home is provided for you within that first week with this program,” Evans said. “That took a lot of stress off of me, and it gave me the opportunity to focus more on setting my goals.” 

After five months, she left Benevolence Farm, finding her own footing in the community. 

Now, over a year and a half since her release from prison, Evans rents a house in Burlington where she is reunited with her three kids. She’s working as a caregiver and also as a staff member at Benevolence Farm, where she is helping other women navigate reentry challenges — particularly family reunification.

“Without this program, I wouldn’t be where I’m at today, especially not this fast,” Evans said.

Dire need for reentry support

Kristen Powers, Benevolence Farm’s executive director, said the nonprofit is helping fill a massive gap in housing, employment and other support for women leaving North Carolina prisons and jails. 

Over the past four decades, the number of women incarcerated nationwide has ballooned by more than 525 percent, rising from a total of 26,326 in 1980 to 168,449 in 2021, according to The Sentencing Project. More than half of these women have a child who’s younger than 18. 

However, Powers said there hasn’t been a corresponding increase in services for these women.

“I think they are often forgotten in the conversation about incarceration,” Powers said.

In North Carolina, women make up about 8 percent of the state’s total prison population, which is more than 31,000 people. In 2022, 2,714 women were released from North Carolina prisons, according to data from the Department of Adult Correction. However, on average, about one-third of women released from prison will be re-arrested within two years and 14 percent will be re-incarcerated, according to data from the North Carolina Sentencing and Policy Advisory Commission.

“We’ve basically stripped incarcerated people of everything that they had prior to going to prison or jail, and if you’re expecting people to resume normal, everyday activities, you need that infrastructure around them when they get out,” Powers said. “That’s not a reality for so many people coming home.” 

Evans realizes how fortunate she was to land at Benevolence Farm. Staying with family wasn’t an option because she had none in North Carolina.

“If I didn’t go to Benevolence Farm or didn’t have a reentry program to go to, I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go,” Evans said. “I wouldn’t have got home from prison. That alone shows you why reentry programs are so important. So many formerly incarcerated individuals are homeless or go back to committing crimes right after release because they don’t have the resources that they need to survive.”

Since welcoming the first resident in December 2016, Benevolence Farm has served over 50 formerly incarcerated women. Unlike some other reentry programs, Benevolence Farm accepts women of all conviction types and allows them to stay up to two years, though most don’t stay the full duration.

The farm in Graham, funded primarily through individual charitable donations and major gifts, provides housing and work for up to six women at a time. Staff receive dozens of applications for the six slots, and some people with a 2028 release date have already applied, Powers said. 

While Powers said she realizes that Benevolence Farm could serve more women if the allowed length of stay was shorter, she said the time given is part of what makes the program special and effective.

“We try to do long-term because there are so many peaks and valleys to the reentry process,” Powers said. “People have all the quick wins when they get home — an ID, a bank account, a driver’s license — and then things start to get harder or emotions start to get harder, and it helps to have community around to support you.”

Life at the farm

Returning to the community after incarceration is a big adjustment — mentally, socially, physically and economically. That’s why Benevolence Farm seeks to create a space where women can process, heal and prepare for what’s next, Powers said.

When a new resident arrives at the farm, a two-week onboarding process begins where staff help the person secure essential items like IDs, birth certificates and bank accounts as well as needed health care such as mental health and substance use services, Powers explained. Time is also given to rest and reacclimate, she said.

“When you’re in prison, you’re so used to being locked down behind metal doors all the time,” Evans said. “You don’t have the freedom to even go to the kitchen. I remember the first few days, I would just walk in the kitchen, open up the refrigerator and close it. I was just getting used to having nobody in my ear telling me what to eat, when to eat, when to get up. It took time getting used to having my freedom back.”

Navigating the transition surrounded by nature has its benefits, said Powers, who moved to a farm as a teenager and saw how the change in environment and pace affected her well-being.

Katie Anderson, a former resident who arrived on the farm in May 2020, agrees. She said the farm was a refreshing contrast to prison.

She went from being locked down in her cell during the COVID pandemic for months, when she said she wasn’t allowed outside at all, to absorbing all the time she could outside working in the fields.

“I just loved the sun,” Anderson said. “I just wanted to be outside. I wanted to smell the air and not have to be confined.”

Residents work three days a week earning $15 per hour as they make Benevolence Farm’s body care products and candles using flowers and herbs grown on the property like rosemary and lavender. Several of the products were pitched and designed by residents, such as the honeysuckle and turmeric soap and the charcoal face soap.

Last year, sales generated about $75,000 in revenue, which is used to help fund operations at the farm.

The other two days of the week and weekends are dedicated to each resident’s personal tasks and goals, Powers said. This includes doctor’s appointments, probation appointments and visits with family and friends. Five staff members — two of whom were formerly incarcerated — are available to help navigate challenges that come up.

Residents leave the farm at their own pace, Powers said, and only three residents have stayed the full two years.

Powers added that most residents have established successful lives in the community after leaving Benevolence Farm, achieving small and big milestones from getting off probation to promotions at work to securing house keys.

However, Powers said about 15 percent of former residents have returned to incarceration — mostly for technical violations regarding their probation or parole. For example, one person on the sex offender registry did not have a proper address, and another squatted in an abandoned house.

“Overwhelmingly, we’re showing what happens when you build community around someone and meet their basic needs and how that affects their life moving forward,” Powers said.

Scalable ideas

Powers is acutely aware that what Benevolence Farm provides only scratches the surface of the need among formerly incarcerated women. That’s why Benevolence Farm has expanded its footprint in recent years. 

In May 2022, the nonprofit opened a Burlington home that can house up to four women at a time in their own rooms. That bumped the organization’s total housing capacity up to 10 women.

But housing remains a monumental barrier to successful reentry, Powers said. She’s seen many landlords reject people with criminal records or charge double the security deposit, which can often put housing out of reach. To help address this problem, Benevolence Farm launched its Housing First Fund this year. The pilot program, made possible by the Coastal Federal Credit Union Foundation, helps women — primarily formerly incarcerated mothers — move into safe and stable housing of their choosing by paying the security deposit.

Powers also has her sights set on establishing a tiny home community on the Graham property to serve more women. The goal is to build six tiny homes, and fundraising for the project is ongoing.

But she knows that Benevolence Farm, which was named one of nine U.S. innovation sites by the Rural Justice Collaborative in 2022, can never meet all the need. Doing so will involve other players — employers, housing agencies, nonprofits, municipalities, community members and government officials — stepping up to “holistically support” people coming home from incarceration, Powers said.

“Our ideas are scalable and lessons are scalable,” Powers said.

“I do think we’re onto something here,” she continued. “I’m hoping that more folks can see that and learn from it and continue to push North Carolina in a direction that is more welcoming to formerly incarcerated people and willing to make the bold moves to keep people in the community in the first place.”

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