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To Help the Economy and Addiction Problems, West Virginians Draw From Within
West Virginia, rural and oft-forgotten, has become famous for rampant opioid addiction and the stubborn last gasps of coal mining culture. My neighbors have some of the shortest life expectancies in the nation, a statistic solemnly tied to another brutal mantle: the highest rate of overdose per capita.
For over 200 years, coal companies鈥攍ike the , like the one owned by my own great-grandfather鈥攈ave seen West Virginia as a backwater packed with easy resources: thick seams of rich coal and a seemingly bottomless population of labor-ready, poverty-toughened workers.
In the early 2000s, the financial return on coal mining began to diminish鈥攖hanks to both increased federal regulation and the decreasing caliber of accessible coal. Around that time, unethical pharmaceutical companies鈥攏otably, but not exclusively, 鈥攖ook the same tack as the coal barons before them, asking: How can we best use West Virginia, and the poverty of its kindhearted people, to our advantage?
The answer: bribe, prescribe, deny. Ship of hydrocodone and oxycodone to pharmacies statewide in the six slim years between 2007 and 2013 (amounting to 433 pills for every adult and child in the state). Drown West Virginians in this deadly medicine.
While coal mining and addiction are certainly not equivalent, they do overlap: Mining is hard, physical work鈥攖he type of labor that begets injuries that call for prescription painkillers. In 2015, Carl 鈥淩olly鈥 Sullivan, longtime director of West Virginia University Hospitals鈥 addiction program, that many West Virginians are 鈥渂lue-collar workers who were in farming and timbering and coal mining and things that were likely to produce injuries.鈥
Beverly Sharp, a former correctional officer, now directs the West Virginia Reentry Councils, a statewide group of 24 regional councils that collaborate to help people re-enter life and community after incarceration. 鈥淐oal mining is a difficult job, and you often end up with people injured, and that leads to prescription painkillers and that whole cycle begins,鈥 she says. 鈥淭he inability to access affordable health care is another issue鈥攜ou end up taking someone else鈥檚 medication or taking another illegal drug instead.鈥
Charleston-area business owners Charlotte and Kenny Webb understand that cycle well鈥攁nd this experience helps them envision a solution. The couple, who are both in long-term recovery from addiction, have dedicated themselves to helping recovering people find a way forward. They readily hire these 鈥渇air-chance鈥 employees at their company, Charleston Property Restoration, and offer other practical assistance through their nonprofit, Way Makers. As Charlotte Webb says, 鈥淲e are in recovery [thanks to] a spiritual experience; we have a responsibility to pass it on.鈥
As King Coal continues to decline, joblessness, poverty, and addiction persevere in West Virginia鈥檚 communities鈥攖he consequences of coal鈥檚 collapse. Yet, West Virginians鈥攂oth born and made鈥攑rize the value of a day鈥檚 work. Mountaineers are hailed for their resilience and independent spirit, their innate inclination to bear up under hardship and make do with the resources at hand.
No surprise, then, that individuals, communities, and organizations around the state are creating imaginative solutions by helping recovering and formerly incarcerated individuals gain access to worthwhile work. Practical visionaries like Beverly Sharp and Charlotte and Kenny Webb are partnering with state-run programs, such as Apprenticeship in Motion and Jobs & Hope, to find creative ways to regenerate more than just careers.
A Shift to a New Altruism
Sharp began volunteering as a lay pastor after she retired from the prison system, but she soon found herself itching to take action, thinking, 鈥淲e need to do something other than sit around and talk.鈥 Part of the practical solution Sharp prescribes is a shift in perspective: What worked for granddaddy may not work today. A new understanding of how meaningful occupation can be a healing force, for the individual and for their community, is essential. 鈥淚 think part of [the struggle] is that mentality of 鈥榣ock 鈥檈m up and throw away the key,鈥欌 says Sharp, the mindset that 鈥測ou made that choice, you live with it.鈥
Through her work with incarcerated people, both in and out of institutions, Sharp鈥檚 experience decries the common viewpoint that 鈥渋f we pile on more consequences, people will stop [using drugs, committing crimes to facilitate their habit].鈥 Sharp鈥檚 voice rises with emotion as she reminds us all not to lose sight that each one of these formerly incarcerated individuals 鈥渋s a human being, is a person; something brought them to that point.鈥
Charlotte and Kenny Webb can relate: 鈥淭he whole reason we started the company was to create space for individuals in recovery and/or re-entry,鈥 says Charlotte Webb. Their construction workforce is comprised of 75% 鈥渇air-chance鈥 employees鈥攚orkers who have arrests or convictions that dissuade many businesses from hiring them, regardless of charisma or skill. Nearly two-thirds of the Webbs鈥 employees have felonies stemming from addiction, which further limits their employment options. Charlotte Webb, who sees the consequences daily, says, 鈥淲hen people are in active addiction, they do things they would not do otherwise.鈥
Sharp agrees. 鈥淚f you are living in poverty your whole life and that鈥檚 all you know, and you have no hope, no motivation to escape poverty, no role models, many times poverty leads to trauma that is inescapable. People in poverty need to do things that those with a living wage would not do, [like] stealing to feed their families.鈥
What the Webbs and Sharp are advocating for鈥攏ot only in word, but supported by their own benevolent deeds鈥攊s a return to neighborliness. Although drivers in West Virginia always seem to make room for one more car to merge into a line of traffic, the Appalachian tradition of common kindness has been burnished by the addiction epidemic, by years of pain in our communities.
When we view people only as resources鈥攁s a monolith, as equipment鈥攚e close off access to empathy, making way for abuses like those exacted by the coal companies and pharmaceutical giants. In an environment where human kindness is missing, the divisive 鈥渦s鈥 and 鈥渢hem鈥 replace the unity of 鈥渨e鈥濃攁 limitation that makes it too easy to take advantage of another鈥檚 humanity. When that happens, we miss the beauty of offering a hand up, a fair chance.
This shift in perspective can begin with language, as Charlotte Webb exemplifies in her explanation of why she prefers the term 鈥渇air-chance鈥 employees over the more commonly used 鈥渟econd chance.鈥 With an insider鈥檚 chuckle, she says, 鈥淭he guys we have [working for us], probably most of them are past their second chance… [but] as long as people are willing to work on their recovery, they ought to have a chance at gainful employment.鈥
Putting Neighborliness Into Practice
After three years of hiring fair-chance employees, Charlotte Webb identified another gap that needed attention: 鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of space in between starting your recovery and being ready for employment, so we started a nonprofit [Way Makers] that works alongside the for-profit… making sure they have IDs, clothing, housing, SNAP food benefits, Medicaid. Then, when they are referred for employment, they are ready to come in and give it their all.鈥
Sharp鈥檚 comments support this notion: 鈥淭he philosophy always was that once you came out of prison, you鈥檝e paid the price. That鈥檚 no longer true.鈥 She says there are 851 collateral consequences of having a criminal record in West Virginia鈥攆rom the understood (difficulty finding work and ) to the unexpected (from West Virginia Code: 鈥溾 or 鈥溾). All of these consequences make re-entry troublesome to navigate, even for citizens with education or other privileges. Sharp started the West Virginia Reentry Councils to help employers better understand the incentives and opportunities inherent in hiring fair-chance employees.
Charlotte and Kenny Webb were already working with fair-chance employees when they heard about the bonding, payroll, and tax incentives available to companies willing to take that chance: 鈥淲est Virginia [has] really made an effort to help employers become willing to hire,鈥 Charlotte Webb says. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 start the company for this purpose, but it has given us the courage to hire new people.鈥
Beginning with an employee鈥檚 first day on the job, West Virginia businesses are granted a via 鈥攁 state-run partner of Jobs & Hope鈥攖o insure their tools and other equipment. In addition, if a fair-chance worker is eligible, employers can receive up to 100% reimbursement on wages paid during the first six months, through a state program called .
After the first six months, employees may be eligible for another state program鈥斺攚hich reimburses employers for up to 50% of wages. Companies that hire fair-chance employees are also considered for up to $6,200 annually. And nonprofit organizations are there to help: 鈥淧art of what we do is help employers to understand that these aren鈥檛 bad people, they just made bad decisions… sometimes, they make the best employees,鈥 Sharp says.
Dave Lavender, the apprenticeship program coordinator at the West Virginia Department of Economic Development, is quick to identify reasons why some employers are shy about hiring employees with complicated histories: 鈥淐ompanies got burned by folks who they employed … in active addiction, [causing] wounds that are hard to heal.鈥 Now, Lavender says, 鈥淭he recovery ecosystem is more developed and more successful. … Jobs & Hope [offers] generous wage reimbursements and bonding so that a company can鈥檛 be burned if an employee doesn鈥檛 work out.鈥
Kenny Webb notes the magnifying effect so much neighborliness has on his employees: 鈥淭hey鈥檙e paying it forward, too,鈥 and helping each other with the basics of recovery, parole etiquette, and passing word about the healthiest recovery houses and friendliest employers.
Participants in such programs are taking college courses and receiving practical retraining in manufacturing, the nonprofit sector, agriculture, addiction treatment, and other constructive types of work. In rural West Virginia鈥攚here generations of corporate abuse have damaged the human landscape as much as they have compromised the ecology of mountains and waterways鈥攚ord-of-mouth is often considered the most credible source of information. If a neighbor, or a cousin, secures a stable, high-paying career despite her felony record, the route she took鈥攚hether via apprenticeship or college classes鈥攚ill serve as a shining beacon for others in her community.
West Virginians are establishing a replicable template that enables people to start again and to give back鈥攖o begin to nourish the communities where they live. Determined citizens continue to band together with nonprofits, charitable corporations, and state and local governments, seeking out solutions to uplift recovering and formerly incarcerated people seeking a fair chance at a career.
As they look ahead, the Webbs are keeping their sights simple: one employee at a time. Kenny Webb articulates success as giving workers a fair chance to 鈥済et their associate degree and contractor license; we are hoping they will go out and launch their own business, and maybe be fair-chance employers themselves.鈥
For Sharp, the measure of success includes a grander scope. Her hope is 鈥渢o remove the collateral consequences related to employment of justice-impacted people to work in certain professions, making an easier path for justice-impacted individuals to earn a living wage.鈥
Charlotte Webb recognizes West Virginians as 鈥渢he kindest, most gracious, authentic people,鈥 yet feels that a 鈥減overty mindset鈥濃攁n 鈥渁cceptance of meager existence: 鈥榯his is as good as it gets鈥欌濃攕ometimes interferes with opportunity. She says, 鈥淧eople in West Virginia have what it takes, but they don鈥檛 see that. I feel like they are looking for an industry, politician, the right company鈥攕omeone to make it all right. I don鈥檛 think they need that, I think they have it in them.鈥 West Virginians do have what it takes to redefine what good work means in a state long ravaged by corporate abuse鈥攁nd the shift away from that pain has already begun.
Quincy Gray McMichael
stewards her farm, Vernal Vibe Rise, on Moneton ancestral land in the mountains of West Virginia.
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