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A photo illustration shows an open envelope with light pouring out, on top of a stack of mail.
Credit: Photo Illustration by Sarah Rogers/Prison Journalism Project | Photos Adobe Stock

When people hear the phrase “prison pen pal,” they often respond with a stink face. “They’re just looking for money,” the expression reads. 

The reality I have seen is both more complicated and more human. People seek pen pals for different reasons. Yes, some are looking for financial help. But many are seeking something incredibly precarious in prison: genuine connection to someone outside these walls.

Despite being surrounded by people every day, prison can be one of the loneliest places. Family members become busy with their own lives. Friends drift away. Holidays pass. Weeks can go by without hearing your name spoken by someone who wants to know how you’re doing. 

Then a letter arrives and, for a few moments, the fences fade into the background. You’re just another person laughing at a funny story, sharing memories, talking about your day or dreaming about the future. 

Over the past year I have encouraged 15 incarcerated women to create pen pal profiles. The goal was never to find someone to send them money, a spouse or someone to “save” them. It was to give people outside prison a chance to meet the person behind the number: someone with hopes, dreams and regrets, and maybe hobbies, faith or a sense of humor that aligns with theirs. Nearly all the women have found someone to correspond with.

I have seen a remarkable change. Women who rarely received mail before suddenly had letters waiting. I saw phone calls become more frequent and birthdays a little less lonely. Some found possible lifelong friends. A few even found love. Most found something prison often takes away: the feeling that someone cares about you. Since these women have started writing, I have observed them talk to each other more. They now excitedly tell each other about the people they are getting to know. 

My relationship with my husband, Erik, started through a prison pen pal website, WriteAPrisoner.com. I wasn’t looking for a husband. I had, however, prayed for something. I asked God to send me a “normal guy.” I wanted someone I could actually talk to, who wouldn’t expect explicit letters or make everything sexual. I wanted someone who wouldn’t judge me because I was incarcerated or because of my past. 

Eirk wasn’t looking for a wife either. After surviving abuse while incarcerated himself, he wanted to support someone living behind bars. He looked through profiles of women in Indiana and Kentucky simply hoping to remind another person they hadn’t been forgotten by the outside world. 

We first started talking in September 2022, but lost touch for a few months. After he reached out again in spring, we kept talking. One conversation became another. Friendship slowly became trust. Trust became love, and in October 2024, that love became marriage. 

Women around me sometimes say, “I want my Erik.” While I know some would love to find a partner, I think what they are really saying is: I want to find somebody who sees me, somebody who listens, somebody who stays. That could be someone who becomes a spouse, or maybe a lifelong friend.

Research backs up what we have seen firsthand. There is limited research specifically on the impact of non-family pen pals. But in a 2015 study from the University of Warwick in the United Kingdom, incarcerated letter writers reported that their volunteer pen pals helped them feel less isolated and raised their hopes for life beyond prison. Research also suggests that maintaining meaningful connections while incarcerated can help with successful reentry. A 2016 meta-analysis of 16 studies found that incarcerated people who received visits had 26% lower rates of recidivism than those who didn’t. 

While most of this research has focused on family members and visitation, the underlying principle is much broader: consistent, healthy human relationships matter. People are more likely to believe they belong in society when society continues reminding them they do.

Several well-known pen pal platforms such as Paper Dolls, Caged Ladies and WriteAPrisoner.com, make the process simple for people who want to become pen pals. Incarcerated people submit profiles that contain basic information about them, their interests, and what kind of correspondence they are looking for. 

For someone on the outside, it can be as simple as reading profiles and deciding to say hello. My advice to prospective pen pals is to be honest about your intentions, and don’t write looking for an incarcerated person to save or a project to fix. Write because you want to connect with another human.

You may gain a friend, or help someone through the hardest season of their life. Maybe you’ll discover that rehabilitation doesn’t always begin with a new law or program. Sometimes it’s someone taking five minutes to write, “Hello. My name is…”

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Taira Beller writes from Kentucky.