Intersectionality Behind Bars

By Isabella Cain

Women’s History Month calls us to remember, celebrate, and amplify the voices of women who have shaped our world, often against extraordinary odds. Yet too often this recognition excludes one of the most marginalized and systematically silenced groups: incarcerated women. To truly honor the spirit of this month, we must move beyond surface-level celebration and commit to centering the narratives of women whose stories are frequently erased within the very systems that claim to rehabilitate them.

Incarcerated women sit at the intersection of multiple forms of marginalization (gender, race, class, and criminalization) making their experiences uniquely complex. Kimberlé Crenshaw coined the term intersectionality to describe how these overlapping systems of oppression compound and shape lived realities. When we fail to account for these intersections, we risk reproducing harm, even within reform efforts. But when we center those most impacted, when we listen to and uplift incarcerated women, then we can start to build solutions that are more just, inclusive, and ultimately more transformative for everyone.

The documentary The Alabama Solution offers a powerful example of what it means to shift perspective. Notably, the film was directed by two women, Olivia Anastasiades and Emma Wall, with writing contributions from Beth Shelburne. In an industry and legal system shaped by patriarchal norms, this matters. Who tells the story influences how it is told. The presence of women behind the camera does not automatically guarantee justice, but it creates space for a more nuanced, human-centered approach to storytelling, one that resists sensationalism and instead foregrounds dignity, complexity, and truth.

The Alabama Solution largely focuses on men’s facilities, however,  its implications for incarcerated women, and for the gendered dimensions of punishment, are profound. Women in prison are disproportionately survivors of abuse and carceral practices like isolation replicate patterns of control, deprivation, and trauma that many have already endured. When these realities go unexamined, the system perpetuates cycles of harm under the guise of order.

This is where intersectionality becomes not just a framework, but a call to action. If reform efforts focus solely on the “average” incarcerated person, often implicitly imagined as male, they leave behind those whose needs and experiences do not fit that mold. Centering incarcerated women’s narratives forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about how the system operates: whose pain is deemed visible, whose stories are told, and whose humanity is acknowledged.

Importantly, the work of uplifting incarcerated women is not a niche or isolated cause. As Crenshaw’s theory reminds us, when we advocate for those at the margins, we create ripple effects that strengthen justice for all. Addressing issues like access to healthcare, protection from abuse, educational opportunities, and pathways to reentry for incarcerated women ultimately exposes and challenges broader systemic failures. In helping one cause, we move closer to dismantling the structures that harm many.

This women’s history month, let us resist the urge to tell only the stories that are palatable and easy to celebrate. Let us instead lean into the narratives that demand accountability, empathy, and change. Centering incarcerated women is not simply about inclusion, it is about transformation. It is about recognizing that the measure of any system, or any movement, lies in how it treats those it has pushed furthest to the margins.

Their stories are not footnotes. They are foundational.