When Fair Chance Hiring Isn’t Fair: The Hidden Bias in Program Pipelines

Previously, a concern was raised within the criminal justice nonprofit space about the fair chance of hiring people with lived experience to work within the space. Regarding reentry, substance abuse, diversion, and returning citizens, peer support is a valuable tool; the messenger is authentic because they have been in similar situations. Efforts were made, and bias training took place across many agencies. Policies were even put in place to hire justice-impacted people for specific roles.

The roles usually included administrative, peer, navigation, and, depending on geography, behavioral health case management roles. The intent was honorable, but the reason behind this was an acknowledgment of the value of peer support, the demographic’s inability to obtain formal education due to systemic barriers, positive messaging to receive grant funding, and an appearance of being an inclusive, fair-chance employer.

Over time, these practices have evolved to unintentionally create a program pipeline bias in the criminal justice nonprofit space. We now have a system of hiring that is far from a fair chance; it is a pipeline from program to employment at the exclusion of almost anyone else. Participants enter a reentry or diversion program, and before or after completion, progress to a position within the agency — and I am not against this.

Issues in the Pipeline

Why would anyone object to empowering justice-impacted people and giving them a fair chance despite their record?

That is an easy answer; I am not against it! I support it, but here is where I have a problem. If these participants are being hired at the exclusion of all others, it is no longer fair chance hiring; it is a program pipeline based on biased hiring. It is as discriminatory as excluding people with a criminal record, and in fact, it can exclude people with lived experience, justice involvement, diverse work experiences, and formal education.

My Journey

In my situation, I have been denied employment several times over by the Oklahoma sector nonprofits despite my formal education, four associate’s degrees, a bachelor’s, a master’s degree, and currently in a doctoral program. About 4% of formerly incarcerated people have a degree, and a Master’s or Doctoral degree brings the numbers well below 1 percent of the entire demographic in the United States. Educationally, I am probably not a normal candidate for these Oklahoma agencies. Is this a bad thing? Don’t we want to show people they can reach higher?

I support whatever career choices our demographic chooses, but at one point, I never even thought college, let alone a doctoral program, was a possibility for me. Was it a struggle? Yes. Did I have to fight like hell? Yes. Did it feel like the system was trying to stop me at every turn? Yes. I am not saying it was easier, but you know what. I know it has been easier since I raised hell about it!

The barriers to entering college only motivated me to attempt to remove those barriers. Working with legislators, an interim study was done in 2020 with many Oklahoma colleges and local nonprofits, and program participants even participated. This year, 2025, I pushed to have OK HB1980 put on the agenda, and working with a great legislator from my district who believes in education and second chances, I made that possible. In 2026, I expect we will be back at it again, and I have already started reaching out to work with others.

I fought my federal prison case from a prison cell and took classes in prison to learn how to do legal research. Eventually, I found case law to undo my mandatory minimum sentence, contacted my previous attorney, who was appointed back to my case, and presented the arguments to the court, facilitating my release and all my co-defendants in 2008. Afterward, I was hired by the law office as a legal assistant. Later, the federal government convicted me a third time under a different statute, but did not make me return to prison.

I worked in a drug treatment facility before connecting with Director Crow at a NABCJ conference when the agency was desperate for people to work. He said, “Get the offer of employment, and then e-mail me.” I did that and worked for the Oklahoma Department of Corrections as a Correctional Case Manager. I even worked on a Unit as a Correctional Officer for a while because DOC was short-staffed. I can remember doing count one day and looking at the tower, wondering how did I get here. Who would think I would be back in prison in this role?

Rozia, my prosecutor, was a principal speaker at the conference, and her message was, “People need hope and love.” Rozia and her sister are extraordinary ladies, and I share an experience with my federal prosecutor in a positive way that extends beyond my conviction. We are both Lifetime Members of NABCJ, and I am the emeritus Student President of the Langston chapter. This is how we connected after my supervised release and work at the federal law office.

Missed Opportunities

All these things you never learned and so much more because you hit the reject button. Ironically, the agency that incarcerated me offered me a second chance, a pardon of sorts, but the agency tasked with social services rejected me at first sight. Hopefully, this article will reach you and perhaps some of your funders for reflection.

We cannot replicate exclusion in the name of inclusion. Echo chambers kill innovation. Expand your tables outside the narrow window you have built for funders.

Let me be clear — I am not advocating excluding program participants, but look at things more holistically. Expand your tables outside the narrow window you have built for funders. Echo chambers kill innovation. We cannot replicate exclusion in the name of inclusion.