Building Self-Worth During Transition: Creating Pathways to Dignity After Incarceration
- PMI Staff
- 22 hours ago
- 6 min read
When a woman at Laughing Bear Bakery in St. Louis made her first cherry pie, she ran around the kitchen screaming with joy. "I made this pie. I made this pie!" For Reverend Kalen McAllister, the bakery's founder, it was a moment that captured everything her work is about—not just providing employment, but restoring something far more fundamental: self-worth.
"I've seen people come out of prison, and they are so beaten down. They're so negative about themselves," McAllister reflects. "I've seen them change at the bakery."
Listen to Fleet Maull's interview with Kalen McAllister - Founder of Laughing Bear Bakery, a St. Louis non-profit work skills reintegration program for ex-offenders who are working very hard to start a new life
The Crisis at the Prison Gate
Each year, approximately 450,000 people are released from state and federal prisons. They carry not just the practical challenges of finding housing and employment, but an invisible burden that weighs far heavier: a shattered sense of self-worth.
McAllister encountered this crisis repeatedly during her years as a prison chaplain in Missouri. Men preparing for release would seek her out to express a terrible fear: "We don't even want to get out."
The practical reality they faced was devastating. Those who served their full sentences received $8.50 and a bus ticket to the location where their crime was committed—not necessarily home. Many would spend their entire gate money at the first McDonald's. Then they were on the street. "I am sure they're going to recommit," McAllister says. "I would recommit under those circumstances."
The unemployment rate for individuals with criminal records hovers around 30%, compared to 4.2% in the general population. Over 60% are arrested again within three years.
The statistics bear this out. The unemployment rate for individuals with criminal records hovers around 30%, compared to 4.2% in the general population. Over 60% are arrested again within three years. But behind each statistic is a person struggling with a fundamental question: What would you do if you were only known for the worst thing you've ever done?
The Dignity of Meaningful Work
McAllister's response to this crisis was born from a promise. On her way out as a prison chaplain, she committed to starting a business that would employ only formerly incarcerated people. Within six months of retiring in 2015, Laughing Bear Bakery was operating.
Her choice of a bakery was intentional. "Most jobs that people get when they come out of prison is ugly work," she explains. "Refinishing floors where you're breathing in chemicals, working on a dock, or you're doing something that nobody else wants to do. I thought the bakery would be fun, you know, you have to eat your mistakes."
The work itself matters. Research shows that securing employment provides an increase in self-esteem and a positive sense of identity. But creating pies and pastries—something beautiful, something others want, something to be proud of—becomes more than just a job. It becomes evidence of one's capacity to contribute something of value.
The bakery started with $2,000, two employees, no equipment, no ingredients, and no customers. Today, it operates out of its own building, employing formerly incarcerated people and providing them not just with paychecks but with community and purpose.
The Rule That Changes Everything
McAllister maintains one strict, non-negotiable rule at the bakery: no one asks what anyone did. When the media comes in for coverage, she stops them from sticking microphones in employees' faces. "I don't care what a person went to prison for. I actually don't care. It's from this day forward, right?"
This rule isn't about denial—it's about refusing to let the past be the only lens through which someone is viewed. It's about creating space for a person to be seen in their present complexity rather than being forever frozen in their worst moment.
One woman who recently joined the bakery spent 28 years in prison after receiving a life sentence without parole at age 17. She'd never held a job before incarceration. "If you can imagine coming out after never having a job before and facing all of this and hitting it in your face, you need some stability," McAllister says. The woman has been at the bakery for almost a year and will likely stay for a couple more. "We all love her at work, and she loves the work."
Creating Community Among the Wounded
One of the bakery's greatest strengths is the shared experience among employees. "If you can imagine, you know, getting out of prison, what would you talk to a person who's never been in prison?" McAllister asks. This shared understanding creates a unique space for healing.
The bakery provides a therapist for employees, but perhaps more importantly, it provides daily interaction with others who understand the weight of reentry. Taking a direct approach to creating opportunities for the formerly incarcerated empowers them to forge new identities, not simply find new jobs.
Confronting Community Fear
One of McAllister's greatest concerns when moving the bakery into a new neighborhood was community reaction. The fear was justified—even faith communities that run prison ministries sometimes balk when formerly incarcerated people show up at their services. McAllister herself had to leave a church that had hosted the bakery when the board decided they didn't want any sex offenders working there.
But in the Tower Grove South neighborhood, something unexpected happened. Rather than objecting, neighbors began showing up to volunteer. They now help package food and support the bakery's mission. The community chose to embrace rather than exclude.
This transformation happened because someone was willing to take the risk and give the community the opportunity to be their best selves rather than their most fearful ones.
What We All Gain
The case for supporting formerly incarcerated people isn't just about compassion. It's about public safety and the kind of society we want to be. Individuals who secure employment after incarceration show recidivism rates of just 16%, compared to 52% for those unable to maintain employment.
When we fail at this, we all pay through higher crime rates, through communities destabilized by the constant churn of incarceration and release, through the loss of human potential. And we lose something less tangible but equally real: the possibility of redemption.
Practical Steps Forward
McAllister's advice to those wanting to support reentry is grounded in experience:
Work with established groups that understand the landscape
Find places where people can gather—many inner-city churches and community centers have space available
Focus on strengths, not just deficits—ask about skills, hopes, and capabilities
Don't ask what someone did—let people move beyond their worst moment
Build slowly but sustainably—commitment matters more than resources
Engage the community transparently—give people the chance to support rather than fear
Be prepared for the long haul—building self-worth takes time
From This Day Forward
In the end, building self-worth during transition isn't about grand theories or complex programs. It's about creating opportunities for people to discover, often to their own surprise, that they can make something valuable. That they can be trusted. That they can show up every day and do good work.
It's about a woman running around a bakery, holding up a cherry pie she made with her own hands, unable to contain her joy. It's about the slow accumulation of days when someone doesn't just survive but actually lives with purpose.
"From this day forward," as McAllister says. That's where self-worth rebuilds—not in the past that can't be changed, but in the present moment where someone discovers they can contribute, they can succeed, they can be more than their worst moment.
Each pie baked, each shift completed, each small success becomes evidence against the lie that incarceration tells—that this is all you are, that this is all you'll ever be. Slowly, steadily, in the warmth of an oven and the community of people who understand, a new story begins to take shape.
To learn more about Laughing Bear Bakery or to support their work, visit LaughingBearBakery.org. To learn more about Prison Mindfulness Institute’s mindfulness and dharma programs, click here.
Citations
National Career Development Association (NCDA): McAfee, Chad. "Supporting Justice-Involved Individuals with Career Development." National Career Development Association, 1 Oct. 2022, www.ncda.org/aws/NCDA/page_template/show_detail/476831?model_name=news_article.
Common Sense Institute (CSI): "Ensuring Economic Success for Formerly Incarcerated Coloradans." Common Sense Institute, 14 Sept. 2022, www.commonsenseinstituteus.org/colorado/research/crime-and-public-safety/ensuring-economic-success-for-formerly-incarcerated-coloradans.
Academic Source (Desistance Theory): Maruna, Shadd. Making Good: How Ex-Convicts Reform and Rebuild Their Lives. American Psychological Association, 2001.
Policy/Community Perspective: Simmons, Heather. "The Prison of Unemployment." The Sun Papers, 19 Sept. 2023, thesunpapers.com/2023/09/19/the-prison-of-unemployment/.