‘It’s ok if you were in for robbery or murder, but sex offending, that’s a no no’: a qualitative analysis of the experiences of 12 men with sexual convictions seeking employment

ABSTRACT

It is widely accepted that individuals with convictions are disadvantaged when trying to access the job market. People convicted of sexual offences face further prejudice and stigma given the nature of the most extreme examples of their offences. Desiring employment but being unable to secure it presents challenges for the individual. This study focused on the real and perceived barriers that twelve British men experienced while seeking employment with a criminal record pertaining to a sexual offence. Semi-structured interviews were conducted with interview data analysed using Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA). Two superordinate themes emerged. Stigma as a Barrier to Employment explored the impact of the disclosure of the sexual criminal record at interview and the enduring stigmatisation the participants faced as a result of the ‘sex offender’ identity. In the second theme, Autonomy and Control, participants sought to explain the personal significance of being employed, and how their inability to secure employment had resulted in the loss of autonomy and the introduction of self-isolating behaviours. Finally, they acknowledged having felt ‘better off’ in prison at times, due to the lasting effects of social exclusion. The implications of the research are discussed further.

KEYWORDS:

• Sexual convictions
• employment
• re-entry
• reoffending
• interpretative phenomenological analysis

Being employed has numerous benefits. For ex-prisoners, these advantages are magnified: a structured day, purposeful activity, social contact with others, improved status, a sense of identity, and a reduced financial strain on self and family (Creed & Macintytre, 2001).

Individuals with convictions, and particularly those who have served a custodial sentence, are disadvantaged when trying to access the job market (Brown et al., 2007; Cherney & Fitzgerald, 2016) due to stigma around perceptions of dishonesty or unreliability in the formerly incarcerated (Moran, 2012). The discriminatory attitudes held towards ex-prisoners remain a significant challenge for those trying to access the job market (Schneider & Weber, 2020).

While there may be a plethora of disadvantages before an individual even applies for a job (in terms of skills or education acquired), the disadvantages manifest when an individual completes an application whereby, typically, they will be asked to indicate their criminal convictions by ticking a box. Research has indicated that employers will discard applicants at this point who ‘tick the box’ (Von Bergen & Bressler, 2016; Pager, 2003). This is a common problem experienced by former prisoners, despite employment being a known protective factor for reducing the risk of reoffending.

Some countries have adopted a ‘Ban the Box’ policy, which removes questions about convictions from job application forms, and returns to them later in the process if an individual is offered a job. Research in the US has shown that such initiatives increase the probability of employment for someone with a conviction by around 30% (Craigie, 2020). In the UK – the location of the present study – 150 employers have joined this campaign, collectively covering 1 million jobs (Business in the Community, 2021).

Despite this positive step, the fact remains that many employers are negatively influenced against individuals with a conviction (Unlock, 2020a). In the UK, the House of Commons’ Work and Pensions Committee has reported that only 26.5% of prisoners enter employment upon release from prison (House of Commons Work and Pensions Committee, 2016–2017, p. 6) and only 17% of ex-prisoners are in ‘Pay As You Earn’ employment (income tax deducted) one year after coming out of prison (Ministry of Justice [MoJ], 2018a, p. 3). Disregarding ex-prisoners as prospective employees means a large proportion of the eligible workforce is wasted. Despite this, employers and employment agencies who do recruit ex-prisoners have fed back that the work ethic of such employees is excellent (MoJ, 2018b).

The Ministry of Justice’s (MoJ) research on the employment of ex-prisoners has highlighted that 81% of businesses who employ ex-prisoners state they have helped their business, with 92% of inclusive employers reporting that recruiting and employing people with convictions has enhanced their reputation, often helping them to gain new business (MoJ, 2020). Not only are ex-prisoners reported to be good employees, but, from a societal point of view, the public are best protected when people who have committed offences return to society prepared to take their places as productive citizens (Prison Reform Trust, 2017).

Ensuring that ex-prisoners have access to employment is a vital aspect of successful reintegration (Harris & Keller, 2005; Von Bergen & Bressler, 2016). Ex-prisoners who are in work, particularly appropriate and meaningful work (Soothill & Holmes, 1981), consistently demonstrate a significantly lower rate of reoffending in countries such as the UK (MoJ, 2018a), USA (Nally et al., 2014; Tripodi et al., 2010; Visher et al., 2008), Australia (Dawe, 2007), New Zealand (Lukkien & Johnston, 2013), Hong Kong (Lo, 2014) and the Netherlands (Ramakers et al., 2017). Furthermore, a meta-analysis by Hanson and Morton-Bourgon (2009) looking specifically at individuals with sexual convictions, found that unemployment was predictive of sexual reoffending (mean effect size = .22; median effect size = .15) across 82 international studies: 35 studies from the United States; 26 from Canada; 12 from United Kingdom; 2 each from Austria, Sweden, and Australia; and 1 each from France, the Netherlands and Denmark.

Furthermore, there is an economic cost to society of not employing ex-prisoners, as reoffending costs the UK £18.1 billion per annum (MoJ, 2019). Reoffending data are not available for many countries; however, using figures from the Australian Institute of Criminology (Smith, 2018), the cost to Australia is approximately 1.38 billion AUD per annum. In addition to the cost of reoffending, not employing ex-prisoners results in a loss of gross domestic product, although these figures are not widely available for different countries. For example, in 2008 the USA lost 1.7 million workers due to employment barriers for people with criminal records, resulting in a loss of $87 billion gross domestic product (Vallis et al., 2021).

In order to recognise initial barriers faced by former prisoners, legal policy can be examined to understand approaches to the support and reintegration processes for former prisoners upon their release from custody (Tariq, 2020). For instance, in the USA, criminal records may only legally be checked in the case of ‘sensitive jobs’, and only when the candidate has been selected for the job. In France, former prisoners prove they have reformed by providing evidence and obtaining a crime clearance certificate. China affords equal rights with other citizens to former prisoners upon release, and will offer financial relief in some cases. Indonesian officials conduct rehabilitation programmes for people convicted of terrorism charges but do not have a law to support the reintegration of ex-prisoners. Likewise, the Saudi government also provides rehabilitation programmes but also offers financial and social support to prisoners; additionally, efforts are made to rebuild connections with family. In Pakistan, the topic of reintegration of ex-prisoners is unfamiliar, with a paucity of consistent legislation. In a similar vein, Japan does not have a comprehensive legal mechanism for reintegrating former prisoners back into society. These examples from Tariq’s (2020) international survey outline that many countries are beginning to recognise the importance of support for the individual after a conviction.

Notwithstanding the mechanisms of support mentioned here, there is a particular subset of ex-prisoners who face even greater challenges than typical ex-prisoners. This group is often not included in the narrative around the rehabilitation of ex-prisoners due to complicated issues of reintegration and strict licence conditions. This group is people who have committed a sexual offence. In reality, sexual offences cover a range of behaviours, from the most serious of offences to ‘17-year-olds sending sexual images of themselves to their partners’ (Harris et al., 2020, p. 17). However, it is the most extreme examples of these offences which are publicised by the media and have a lasting effect on public opinion (DeLuca et al., 2018). Studies show the prejudice towards this group is so great even men with paedophilic interests who have not committed an offence face more stigma than individuals who have committed violent offences (Jahnke et al., 2015). People with a conviction for a sexual offence are the most despised of all prisoners and ex-prisoners, and are considered largely irredeemable by the public (Harper & Hogue, 2015). This stigma, together with the fear that surrounds sexual crime, is a major contributory factor in the challenge of attaining employment by people with sexual convictions.

The shame and stigma of a sexual offence mean people with sexual convictions typically re-enter the community under worse conditions than they were living in before their incarceration (Göbbels et al., 2012). They may have increased restrictions placed upon them, which constrain them from certain jobs or workplaces (e.g. Robinson & Crow, 2009). Under the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act (1974), some people are barred from working with children or vulnerable adults due to the nature of their offence. The Act, which requires people to declare convictions to prospective employers, defines children as those under the age of 18. This results in the exclusion of individuals with sexual convictions from working for employers who also hire 16- and 17-year olds (MoJ, 2014).

Whilst it is understandable that certain jobs are no longer available for this group, the overall reduced opportunities for work can reinforce social isolation and, incongruously, increase the risk of reoffending. Employment mitigates against this risk. The benefits of employment for people with sexual convictions are magnified: the risk of sexual reoffending is reduced via employment through having a sense of purpose, having structure (Seleznow et al., 2002) and greater social contact (Waddell & Burton, 2016). Those in employment are deemed to have ‘something to lose’ if convicted again, not least because employment provides not only financial help but also affords the opportunity to mix with pro-social peers thus reducing isolation (Farmer et al., 2015; Harris et al., 2020). Employment is particularly protective when combined with treatment for sexual offending (Kruttschnitt et al., 2000).

Examining recruitment practices which affect people with sexual convictions is important given the relationship between unemployment and reoffending (Prison Reform Trust, 2017). The few studies investigating employer attitudes towards hiring men with sexual convictions have produced mixed results. Harris et al. (2020, p. 27) surveyed a number of UK employers on their attitudes towards hiring someone with a sexual conviction. They found the biggest concerns employers had related to other employee’s reactions (65%) and customer or workplace safety (62% and 54% respectively). By contrast, only 35% of their survey respondents were concerned about public opinion. Likewise, Haslewood-Pocsik et al. (2008, p. 23) reported employers’ reluctance to hire those with a sexual conviction was due to concerns regarding the safeguarding of other staff members, rather than due to emotional responses associated with sexual crime. While these findings may seem encouraging (since providing information, support and guidance to employers is achievable), other studies have highlighted that a sexual conviction, if known about, ‘constitutes a life-long stigma that limits the convicted person’s employment and other opportunities’ (Jacobs & Larrauri, 2012, p. 1). These variations in outcomes suggest further research is needed to understand both the perspective of the employers trying to recruit, and that of the people trying to find work under such conditions.

In order to understand the impact of this type of conviction on employment prospects, it is useful to understand pre-conviction employment practices for men convicted of sexual offences. This involves an examination of employment statistics. At present, MoJ reporting provides analysis on employment histories of all prisoners as a homogeneous group. This prohibits analysis of the employment and education attainment of those with a sexual conviction as a distinct group, separate to those convicted of violent or general offences. This renders work histories particularly difficult to analyse.

Several studies report roughly two-thirds of all prisoners are unemployed in the year prior to sentencing (Nivan & Stewart, 2005), a figure which has remained relatively stable since the Social Exclusion Unit’s report in 2002 (Hopkins, 2012). Whilst the MoJ’s data is somewhat limited, a number of small-scale studies have examined pre-sentencing employment and education levels specifically of those convicted of sexual offences. These studies have shown much higher levels of employment and educational attainment than is suggested in the general figures. Aslan and Edelmann (2014, p. 127) reported higher employment rates compared to general offenders in their UK study (n = 230) of ‘internet’, ‘contact’ and ‘internet-contact’ offenders. Those convicted of internet offences (n = 74) were more likely to be in stable employment prior to their conviction (61%) and have a degree or post-graduate degree (38%).

Similarly, Brown et al. (2007, p. 35) reported two-thirds of their sample of individuals with a ‘broad range of sexual offences’ were employed at the time of their index offence (n = 20). Harris’ (2014) US study focussed on those with ‘serious’ sexual convictions (n = 21) and found a much higher level of pre-sentencing employment than the ‘general offender’ statistics would suggest: 71.4% of the sample were employed prior to sentencing, of whom 87% were in professional roles (Harris, 2014, p. 1561).

Whilst it is difficult to generalise from these studies, these data may suggest that there is a higher level of employment in those convicted of sexual offences, than those convicted of violent or general offences. Given that there is some evidence of high levels of employment and educational achievement prior to their conviction, and despite often having improved their education and skills in prison, it is significant that this group remains ‘the most unemployable demographic’ (Blessett & Pryor, 2013, p. 434). This would suggest the presence of factors other than skills or experience deficits impacting their employability success. As mentioned above, the role of stigma would appear to have a considerable role to play in a person’s chances of securing employment in these circumstances. A review of the literature in this area shows a limited amount of research on employer attitudes. Moreover, there is a complete lack of research into the impact that being unable to secure employment has on the men themselves. This is an important area to consider, given the link between unemployment and reoffending (Hanson and Morton-Bourgon 2006; MoJ, 2018b).

The present study examines the lived experiences, challenges and barriers 12 British men with sexual convictions faced as they sought employment in the UK. These men were required to disclose their sexual criminal convictions to prospective employers due to their licence conditions. This is standard practice in the UK for offences which meet a particular threshold; namely, offences which carry custodial sentences of over four years; those which are not yet ‘spent’; and, those which have any type of indefinite order imposed (Unlock, 2020b). A review of the literature highlighted a paucity of research relating to the significance of employment for people with sexual convictions. The present study aimed to explore this area in more detail by examining the personal meaning of being employed. It explored how the individuals coped when facing challenges during their job search, and how these barriers to finding employment affected them.

The study employed a phenomenological, idiographic approach using Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA, Smith, 1996). IPA assumes a person’s experiences can be accessed and understood through the analysis of the meanings they assign to those experiences. To date, there has been no in-depth examination of the lived experience of individuals with a sexual conviction seeking employment and the meanings that the people involved attribute to those experiences.

Method

Participants

The sample (N = 12) was recruited from two sources. The first was obtained from a category ‘C’ prison in England for men with sexual convictions. Posters advertising the study were placed around the prison, and volunteers who met the inclusion criteria were interviewed. Inclusion criteria were that participants had had a previous sexual conviction and had attempted to secure employment between sentences. ‘Seeking employment’ was defined as searching for jobs, submitting application forms and attending interviews. A second group was recruited from volunteers within the Sexual Offending Crime and Misconduct Research Unit (SOCAMRU; a collaborative research unit sitting at the junction between the domain of prison, police and criminal justice practitioners and that of academia) and the Safer Living Foundation (an organisation focused on reducing sexual offending through rehabilitative initiatives). The authors are linked with both organisations. Inclusion criteria for the community sample were that participants had previously received either a custodial or community sentence and had been seeking employment in the period since receiving their sentence. Although participants were recruited from both community projects and within a prison, they had all experienced the same key issue under scrutiny: rejection from the job market due to a sexual criminal conviction.

Once referrals had been received, participants were advised of the nature of the study and method of data collection. Twelve agreed to be interviewed, and in line with other larger-scale IPA studies (e.g. Blagden et al., 2011; Flowers et al., 2011) it was felt that this number of respondents would give a richer variety of accounts. Two of the participants were interviewed again six months later; these participants had both felt they would like to build on their previous interviews, having gained additional lived experience in this area. This resulted in 12 participants and 14 accounts. Please see Table 1 which provides demographic and offence information.

Table 1. Participant demographic and offence information.

Pseudonym	Age	Nationality & ethnicity	Offence	Sentence
Bryan	54	White British	Indecent Exposure (minors)	5 year community order Indefinite SOPO^a
Chris	49	White British	Internet – images (minors)	36 months
			Indecent Assault (minors)	5 years, 4 months
Frank	45	White British	Rape	8 years
Graeme	not disclosed	White British	Offence against children	2.5 years for breaches, 5 year IPP^b
Harvey	60	White British	Offence against children	10.5 years, IPP (has had sentences totalling 34 years)
Kev	57	White British	Gross indecent assault (child)	Life with a 6 year tariff. Currently 2 years over tariff
Liam	39	White British	Rape and false imprisonment (adult) 3 x prior sentences, non-sexual	15 years, life-licence
Mickey	38	White British	Internet – images (minors)	3 years
			Indecent Assault (minors)	5 years
Norman	55	White British	Internet – images (minors)	IPP, served 9 years
			Indecent Assault (minors)	6 years
Ricky	51	White British	Internet – images (minors)	3 years
Tony	55	White British	Indecent Assault (minors)	8 years
Wayne	65	White British	Non-specific sexual conviction	Not disclosed

^a SOPO – Sexual Offence Prevention Order (a prohibitive order restricting certain behaviours).

^b IPP – Indeterminate sentence for Public Protection (no pre-determined release date).

Data collection

Ethical approval was sought and granted prior to the commencement of the study by both the College Research Committee at the authors’ university and HMPPS. Participants were advised all information would be confidential except should a participant disclose harm to himself or others or divulge details of an offence which had not been reported. Participants were advised of their right to withdraw from the study and the methods and timeframe for doing so. Each participant discussed informed consent with the interviewer before signing a consent form.

An assessment room in the prison was used to interview those currently serving custodial sentences, and an approved private interview room at the authors’ university was used for those on community sentences. The interviews lasted between 60-120 minutes and used a semi-structured interview schedule, allowing for rapport to build between interviewer and participant. This also permitted flexibility to explore any unexpected issues and for an in-depth investigation to occur (Pietkiewicz & Smith, 2014). Participants were monitored for signs of distress during the interviews and were debriefed post interview.

Interviews were conducted by all three authors and two research assistants; one assisting inside the prison and one assisting at the university. Interviews were recorded on a password-protected dictaphone, anonymised and stored confidentially in line with data protection law and British Psychological Society (BPS) ethical guidelines (BPS, 2014). Pseudonyms were randomly assigned. During the transcribing stage, names, places and sensitive identifiers¹ were redacted. The aim of the interviews was to explore the participants’ lived experiences of seeking employment with a sexual conviction. The interview schedule focused on the personal meaning attributed to securing employment, what it meant to get a job, how individuals stayed motivated, and the challenges around disclosing criminal convictions at interview. The schedule was developed through a combination of using literature to develop themes, discussions with probation and ex probation officers, together with speaking to the service user group at a category ‘C’ prison (all of whom were men who were PCOS).

Data analysis

IPA was chosen for the data analysis as it is particularly suited to exploring new territory where a theoretical pretext may be lacking (Reid et al., 2005). A small sample size is deemed ideal for research utilising IPA as this permits a thorough, detailed analysis of each participant’s experience which in turn produces rich, idiographic data (Smith et al., 2009). IPA can provide meaningful and unexpected analysis by engaging with participants’ reflections of significant experiences in their lives. IPA views people as experts of their own individual experience and ‘sense-makers’; the narrative provided is idiographic and demonstrates the participant’s attempt to attribute meaning to their experience (Smith & Osborn, 2004). The role of the researcher is to interpret phenomena as they arise – that is the ‘lived experiences’ and sense-making of the individual (Smith et al., 2009). In addition, the role of the researcher is to make sense of the participant’s sense-making, thus employing a double hermeneutic approach. IPA recognises that the constructs of the participant’s experiences are accessed through sustained engagement and interpretation of the text (Smith, 2004).

To ensure the findings were grounded in the participants’ accounts, each transcript was closely read several times by each author to establish a holistic perspective of each account (Smith & Osborn, 2004). While the data were collated by several researchers as part of a research team coordinated by the second author (using the same interview schedule and protocols), the analysis was primarily driven by the lead author. The transcripts were read and reread by the research team, emergent themes identified by the lead author were considered and reflected on by all team members and the second layer of analysis was conducted and crafted by the research team together. These themes were further reviewed by the second author, and were subsequently clustered into subordinate and superordinate themes (Smith & Osborn, 2004) by the lead author according to conceptual similarities (Pietkiewicz & Smith, 2014). The researchers followed the two criteria proposed by Smith (1996) to ensure the integrity of qualitative research, by maintaining internal coherence (the themes are supported by each participant’s account), and the presentation of evidence (credible evidence in the form of verbatim extracts allows the reader to evaluate the interpretation).

Results

The superordinate and subordinate themes that emerged during the IPA analysis are detailed in Table 2.

Table 2. Superordinate and subordinate themes.

Superordinate Theme	Subordinate Themes
Stigma as a Barrier to Employment	The disclosure bombshell
	Monsters, not fit for human company
Autonomy and Control	Employment giving meaning and purpose
	Self-isolation and loneliness
	I’d be better off in prison.

Superordinate theme 1: stigma as a barrier to employment

Participants discussed the ‘sex offender identity’ and the barrier this posed to securing employment. Upon disclosure of sexual offence histories, employers’ reactions were likened to a sudden explosion. Participants described the realisation that employers and other members of the public saw them as ‘monsters, not fit for human company’. Deeper investigation identified that participants had become accustomed to employers holding ingrained stigmatised views but did not always accept those views as fair.

The disclosure bombshell

The most pertinent theme emerging in all participant accounts was their concern regarding the disclosure of their conviction to employers. While all participants described this as being a fundamental barrier, categorically resulting in the termination of interviews or job offers withdrawn, it was the experience itself which was traumatic for many. Employer reactions to the disclosure of the sexual criminal record evoked a powerful sense of shame and disgrace.

Everything going fine, yeah, yeah, yeah, you’ve done this, you’ve done that, etc., and it’s cool – oh by the way, what was you in for? So obviously I had to disclose and as soon as I disclosed it was like a bombshell – the whole interview went completely west after that, it just died. And the worst thing about it was there’s the woman, she started visibly shaking, she was upset, and this, that and the other. The guy was obviously shocked and I didn’t know how to handle it. This was my first ever interview, I’ve only been out a few weeks, this is like the first time. I didn’t know what to say or what not to say. (Liam)

Liam was unprepared for the response he received from his interviewers. He likens his disclosure to a bombshell exploding: swift, destructive and without warning. The visible reaction of the interviewers was akin to a shockwave from the bombshell. The contrast between Liam’s optimism for a new life after 15 years in prison and the stark reality of the stigma he now faced was suddenly apparent. Tewksbury (2012) argues that stigma describes the lack of alignment between how people see themselves – their social identity – and how others see them – their virtual social identity. This was the case for Liam who experienced a stark disconnect between how he viewed himself and how the people in the room viewed him.

Being a person with a sexual conviction, facing life-long registration and having to continually disclose such offences places limitations on where an individual can live, work and, ultimately, how successfully they can reintegrate back into society (Harper et al., 2018). Harris (2014) found that protective factors to support the desistence from sexual offending hinged upon achieving success in two broad areas: intimacy (e.g. a partner, family or friends) and mastery (e.g. employment, education). In being denied the opportunity to reintegrate into society through employment, those with past sexual offences were being denied the possibility of gaining mastery in this area. Mickey described one particular interview which was terminated upon the disclosure of his sexual offending history.

It could just be that he didn’t like what he read and thought you know what I don’t want to sit here in this room with this guy, and it’s how I sort of feel. Yeah, cos it’s like, I saw his face change when he read it, I don’t think he read the second part about what I've managed to do since. (Mickey)

Mickey’s disappointment was evident in the extract. In identifying the employer’s internal feelings ‘I saw his face change’, Mickey perceived that the employer read the conviction and experienced the ‘bombshell’ reaction. To Mickey’s disappointment, he observed that the employer’s state of shock resulted in an inability to move past the disclosure at that time. This resulted in Mickey feeling his journey toward reparation was not given due consideration. The desire for reparation has been reported by key proponents in the desistance literature (e.g. Maruna, 2001; McNeill, 2012) as being a fundamental part of the process of desistance. However, this is only part of the process and individuals need to be given the platform to enact their desisting identities and so finding meaningful employment or activity is vital for offender reform (Blagden et al., 2017; Ware & Blagden, in press). Mickey’s narrative suggested a silent plea for his rehabilitative journey to be recognised, but instead it was dismissed as inconsequential. In doing this, Mickey projected that the employer was experiencing a disgust reaction. ‘Soon as they read that aloud they’re like he's scum, get out the office, that’s how I feel. That’s how I feel.’ (Mickey)

At the crux of the issue, this type of dismissal suggests the view that people who have sexual convictions are inherently deviant and this becomes their ‘master status’; the key referential trait that overshadows all other characteristics (Goffman, 1963). As Goffman (1963) noted stigma can become a focus for identity, thus master status refers not simply to people who engage in deviant behaviour, but designates them as such and with it limits them as a person. Mickey’s use of ‘scum’ is an example of the dehumanising language directed towards people with sexual convictions as a deliberate punitive measure to justify their social exclusion (Harper et al., 2018).

All of the participants’ narratives direct the reader to the reluctant conclusion

that once a person has been identified as having a sexual conviction, they are effectively rendered unemployable. ‘But as soon as I mentioned it, I tried to shake hands with her but she just put her head down’ (Frank). The disclosure of the sexual conviction had the same fatalistic consequence over and over. ‘They’d ask me what it was for and then tell me to get lost’ (Tony). This was the case even when the candidate was over qualified for the role.

I’ve got all the skills that they require, I more than meet their criteria for a job but as soon as I have to say to them that, you know, I’ve been convicted of a sex offence, you know, it was in the past, that doesn’t define the person I am now, it certainly doesn’t define, you know, interference with my work, erm, not interested. So you know that was always the point where everything fell flat on its face. (Graeme)

Other participants described the humiliation that accompanied this process.

I told him what I was in for and he just basically picked up his folder and walked off and I sat there in the meeting room like a fool. I sat there for 10 minutes thinking he’d just popped off somewhere but he never came back. (Ricky)

These stigmatising, hostile and humiliating experiences were universal for all the participants in the present study. Their convictions were a major impediment in their bid to secure employment or even to have a fair and constructive interview process. For those who had been experiencing this cycle for a long time, the predictability of the rejection was no comfort, and their scrutiny of this process resulted in feelings of injustice.

Isn’t time to kind of ease things back? It’s like if you’re in a prison then if you’re abiding by all the rules whatever then you might get some extra privileges or get help with your parole or get out earlier. But in the community there’s no rewards, particularly with the indefinite stuff, that just kills things. (Bryan)

Bryan had attended interviews and disclosed his sexual conviction for several years. He articulated how he had become acclimatised to the employer responses described by the other participants. Bryan illustrated his exasperation with his life-long requirement to disclose his sexual offence by asking, ‘Isn’t time to kind of ease things back?’. In referring to how the disclosure ‘kills things’ he was showing that he felt battle-weary, oppressed, and perhaps viewed himself as a victim now. Tewksbury (2012) states that when feeling punishments were too harsh, individuals with sexual convictions were more likely to use language that implied they were the victims. Indeed, this was apparent when Bryan positioned himself as the victim of an unduly harsh system, and likened his treatment to physical, abusive punishment ‘There’s no advice. No. You do need advice. You get bashed with a stick’ (Bryan).

All participants echoed the above sentiments: employers held stigmatising, unjustified views of them. These views were so pervasive that even after several years of job searching, the stigma directed toward them proved an insurmountable barrier to entering the workforce. The disclosure of the sexual offence was the devastating bombshell that destroyed any hope of attaining employment.

Monsters, not fit for human company

Participants were resigned to the fact that employers regarded people with criminal records differently to people without criminal records. This seemed to be ‘fair’ and not disputed. However, participants felt aggrieved that their sexual criminal record deemed them more dangerous than people with records for violent offences. Participants were communicative about their desire to have a dialogue with employers about the low risk involved in working alongside someone with a sexual conviction. ‘What I am saying is that sex offenders are far less likely to reoffend than your average offender. Then why are we being penalised more than the average offender? It is down to public perception to that particular offence’ (Chris).

Chris used the term ‘penalised’ to reflect his belief that being denied access to the workplace was an additional sanction placed solely on those with sexual convictions. The perception of being disproportionately sanctioned is a recurrent theme in the literature. People convicted of sexual offences are frequently reported as dangerous, predatory or inherently deviant (Hanson & Morton-Bourgon, 2004). This is particularly evident in the colloquial usage of the label ‘ex-con’ for individuals who committed general offences, but ‘sex offender’ for those with a sexual conviction (Winnick & Bodkin, 2008, p. 296), the former label implying past behaviour, the latter implying present or enduring behaviour. However, when considering recidivism, this population has one of the lowest rates of reoffending. After ten years offence-free, their risk of committing a sexual offence is comparable to that of the general population (Hanson, 2018). Bailey and Sample (2017) argued that the majority of people with sexual convictions were low risk, yet laws pertaining to sexual offences are written – and therefore publicly perceived – as if these individuals are a homogenous group. This forces a group identity onto its members, unfairly implying they are a sexually deviant, dangerous, and high risk group (Bensel & Sample, 2017). Participants felt that employers had no intention of being tarnished with the same stigma by associating with them.

‘They are frightened. They are worried about their reputation and sexual offending is seen as the lowest of low and general people don’t want to associate with us’ (Bryan). In suggesting that employers would be ‘frightened’ to be associated with him, Bryan was articulating his reality: this level of exclusion and stigma was indeed something to be afraid of. Bryan suggested that employers believed their reputation would be contaminated by the association with someone with a sexual criminal record and this is the driving force behind their recruitment practices. His use of the phrase ‘lowest of the low’ illustrated the comparison between his current self-perception of being lowly and having once been highly thought of by others. ‘ … they don’t want to work with a sex offender. People don’t like sex offenders. Well, we are considered to be society’s outcast, we are considered to be dreadful monsters and not fit for human company’ (Bryan).

The label ‘monster’ to describe a person convicted of a sexual offence, particularly an offence against children, is popular in the British tabloid press, along with ‘pervert’, ‘beast’ and ‘paedo’ (Harper & Hogue, 2015, p. 14). These labels are used to provoke a sense of disgust in the reader and imply a sense of abnormality in the offender. These reporting tactics reduce individuals who commit crimes into a single homogenous group, and the non-offending majority into another. The latter group occupies the moral high ground, and the former is shamed. Harper and Hogue (2015) suggest the delineation between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ permits society to ignore the reality of the varied backgrounds from which those convicted of sexual offences originate. Harris et al. (2020, p. 26) state ‘it’s not a monster who’s going to turn up to your door to babysit’. The persistent drive to force a group identity via inflammatory media reporting results in widely held, stigmatised views. As well as maintaining the status quo of cautious employment practices (Bensel & Sample, 2017), it influences policymakers to create ill-informed legislation (Jacobs & Larrauri, 2012).

The notion of the heavily stigmatised group identity was additionally evidenced by Liam. In a conversation at an employment agency, it was made clear that Liam’s application would not be progressed any further:

“ … We wouldn’t be able to take you on anyway because we’d have to go to employers and effectively er, er, you know, try and get you an interview with them. And obviously we have to consider our reputation because of the nature of what you was in for”. And at this point, I’ve tried for all these years not to take it personally, but that felt personal you know. And it hurt, yeah. (Liam)

Goffman (1963) described the stigmatised person as one ‘who is disqualified from full social acceptance’ (p. 9). Liam was informed in no uncertain terms that to be associated with him was to be tainted and to have one’s reputation compromised. Liam was unable to be seen as an individual; thus, the stigma surrounding him was a formidable obstacle in his rehabilitation. Moreover, this stigma and shame was painful for him to carry. Most participants viewed the label of ‘sex offender’ as enduring, influencing how others perceive them and impacting on their own reintegration. Kev attempted to make sense of this enforced identity by contrasting the public response to different types of serious offence ‘ … it’s ok if you are in for robbery or murder, but sex offenders, that’s a no no²’ (Kev). The notion of being labelled as dangerous was something the participants were trying to make sense of and the idea that murder was somehow ‘more acceptable’ to the public was a bitter pill to swallow. ‘ … It’s like getting branded, getting labelled. You do get branded’ (Ricky). Branding is a process normally associated with the ownership of livestock. The branded animal is controlled by someone more powerful; it is ‘less than’. Ricky’s choice of the phrase ‘branding’ indicates the shame and vulnerability he felt. It suggests he too felt powerless and exposed; acutely aware of the lack of control over his identity.

There were clear tensions between how participants viewed themselves and how they were being perceived by others. This is important as desistance from offending rests not only on cognitive transformation (identity change), but also on factors such as belonging to a group, finding a place in society, having agency and being optimistic about the future (Farmer et al., 2012). Participants’ experiences here are related to the golem effect (low expectations causing low outcome), which can interfere with desistance (Maruna & King, 2009). There is little doubt that these narratives represent a bleak outlook.

Superordinate theme 2: autonomy and control

The participants’ lack of autonomy and control was evident throughout their narratives. Employment provided not only the means to live autonomously, but also a sense of personal achievement and mastery. Thus, to be excluded from the workforce was to be excluded from achieving personal autonomy. Participants described being cautious about disclosing their criminal convictions in their personal lives. They described periods of losing hope for the future and feeling that freedom at such a high price was not truly freedom.

Employment giving meaning and purpose

Having a job meant different things to each participant, from being able to meet the most basic needs to feeling they had a genuine, fulfilling purpose in life. These responses could be mapped onto Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs (Maslow, 1943). The Hierarchy of Needs underpins Motivation Theory and assumes that individuals strive to reach their potential by satisfying needs in four lower categories before reaching the fifth, self-actualisation; the pinnacle of human experience. At the most basic level, physical needs relating to food and shelter must be satisfied before moving to the next level. Being unable to afford food, for example, would result in the refocusing of all resource to meeting this need, thus being unable to move forward to reach one’s full potential (Jones, 2004).

Whilst employment was important to meet basic financial needs, a secondary and more pressing benefit was identified. Employment was predominantly viewed as the route by which to achieve purpose and meaning. ‘Everything. Absolutely everything. It just gave me a purpose, a focus, it gave me, dunno, just a passion for something. It gave me a reason you know’ (Liam). ‘It’s a purpose, some sort of meaning, it’s something to actually get up in the morning for and knuckle down and do, it’s a real reason to live’ (Bryan).

For these individuals, being employed meant being able to participate, contribute and be part of something positive again. Jetten et al. (2009) stated that feeling part of a group – such as a workforce – could lead to improved health and feelings of well-being. This was echoed in the narrative around lack of employment adding additional pressure into an already stressful existence. ‘A job would ease the oxygen’ (Frank). People who are isolated are twice as likely to have poor health compared to people who socialise, despite the latter group having a higher exposure to germs (Jetten et al., 2009). This phenomenon, referred to as the ‘social cure’, provides compelling evidence that people who belong to groups reap additional benefits to their health and well-being. In the current study, employment was shown to bring a sense of belonging to a group and satisfaction from contributing to something meaningful. In a sense, a job was synonymous with motion, activity, and feeling purposeful. Conversely, unemployment signified being stagnant. Chris’s narrative contained similarities with the previous responses but also had an additional dimension. It gave rise to the notion that, for him, meaningful employment was a vehicle to measure self-worth against.

It is about dignity. It is about social interaction. It is more in-depth than just earning money. Obviously money important because it has to cover bills and be able to afford and socialise with people, doing different activities. So money is important but the most important thing for me is about social interaction and about feelings of self-worth. (Chris)

Participants’ desire to make a meaningful contribution and to belong is evident in these extracts. ‘For once I felt like I was part of a working environment’ (Harvey). Their desire to interact with others to improve self-esteem can be linked to ‘social cure’ ideology. Haslam et al. (2018) found that individuals had a propensity to underestimate the importance of social support and social integration upon their health – the ‘social cure’. Haslam et al. (2018, p. 14) identified the ‘health gap’ (the impact of poverty and inequality on health outcomes) and the ‘social cure’ (social relationships, social networks, social support and other social identity-based resources that feed into health outcomes) as two bodies of work that could be brought together to explain people’s health and well-being. Both of these areas have important implications for the participants in the present study. All were subjected to a reduction in their personal circumstances post-conviction, and all were impeded in their ability to earn money. They were all experiencing, to a lesser or greater degree, the ‘health gap’. In addition, all participants were restricted in their ability to form social relationships which would provide support, the ‘social cure’, due to their stigmatised ‘identity’ and restrictive licence conditions. The participants wanted to work in order to satisfy the basic levels of the Hierarchy of Needs (Maslow, 1943), and also to realise the upper levels. They sought meaning and purpose in their lives, as defined by the desire to contribute to important work or to build relationships and support systems with other people.

Self-Isolation and loneliness

All of the participants expressed feelings of loneliness and isolation as a direct result of being labelled a ‘sex offender’. ‘I’m not trying to blame the system … but the system has a way of isolating individuals’ (Wayne). Tewksbury and Lees’ (2006) reported that people who had committed sexual offences against children worked harder to conceal their conviction than people who had committed sexual offences against adults. Only 39.2% of Tewksbury and Lees’ (2006) sample confirmed that ‘most people’ knew their offence history, versus 59% of people who had sexual convictions against adults. Jahnke et al. (2015) compared public attitudes towards people from highly stigmatised groups and found the strongest reactions were directed towards people with paedophilia. For example, despite emphasising in their survey that no crime had been committed, 39% of respondents said they would recommend people with paedophilia were imprisoned. Jahnke et al. (2015) also reported public preferences for social distance, i.e. how much a person would agree to interact with someone from a stigmatised group at different levels of social contact (e.g. have as a friend; work with; live near). They found a preference for a higher social distance toward people with paedophilia than from people with Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD). This is despite people with APD posing a greater threat to personal safety.

Participants in the present study described operating with caution when it came to mixing with others. There was agreement from most that the disclosure of personal information relating to their past offences would be detrimental to their wellbeing and safety. ‘[The friend] doesn’t know I'm a sex offender and he would not like it one bit’ (Norman). Norman had chosen to conceal the details of his offence, fearing the consequences. By his own admission, he did not aim to mix with others. ‘There needs to be more I think but that’s probably down to me because I very much, isolate myself, y'know. I don’t go out to meet people’ (Norman). Likewise, Bryan’s self-isolating behaviour was driven by the need to preserve his own safety and not be exposed as having committed a sexual offence.

You find it hard to be among people because you are consistently worried about if they find out what are going to be the consequences, how are they going to react. If it gets to a situation where I have to tell somebody because of the circumstances, then what’s their reaction going to be and are they going to chop me down there and then. So you become very worried and suspicious of people. (Bryan)

Bryan’s use of the phrase ‘chop me down’ shows he felt perpetually poised for attack. He reasons that it was easier to exist away from people than to live in a state of permanent high alert. Whilst this approach was the conclusion that these individuals had arrived at, research shows that social isolation carries a higher risk of recidivism than having relationships with pro-social peers (Scoones et al., 2012). Braithwaite (1989) states that being denied the possibility to reintegrate due to the stigma surrounding this particular type of crime is a form of disintegrative shaming. In being exposed in this way, the participants feared they would be shamed and ostracised, unable to partake in normal life, fearful for their own safety. This is likely to have a lasting detrimental effect on self-esteem, making the stigmatised person less likely to want to attempt new relationships over time (Robbers, 2009).

The theme running through all of these extracts is that these men were isolated, sometimes fearful, and often ashamed of how their conviction would be received by others. Due to this perceived threat, participants either self-isolated or partially hid their true identity in order to relate to other people and form bonds. Robbers (2009) stated that those with sexual convictions were more likely to experience negative interactions with others and that this served to limit their social engagement. The stigma experienced by these individuals resulted in their social withdrawal and self-isolating behaviours. Examples of associated negative consequences of this isolation were evident across many of the participants’ narratives. ‘I ended up taking an overdose because of how bad I felt and I just didn’t want to go out my house’ (Frank). ‘In the past I’ve turned to drink, I’ve self-harmed, because there’s nothing for me to do’ (Harvey). Shame was a driving force in the sense-making of their situations: ‘I shall be extremely isolated. Even to join a club or stuff like that I have to go through probation and tell people at the club that I am a sex offender. I don’t want all that’ (Kev).

I'd be better off in prison

Seven participants reported that they understood why some ex-prisoners felt their life in prison had more value than life outside. This was based on several interlinking factors: exclusion from meaningful work, financial problems, stigma, isolation, absence of opportunity for friendships and – crucially – a lack of hope that things would ever improve. All of them reported having felt defeated at times.

I was broken and I said to her, I said “I want to go back” I said “if this is what it’s like out here”. I mean I can’t remember verbatim but it was literally, I was literally saying to [Probation Officer] “I want to go back”. I said “I don’t understand it out here, it doesn’t make any sense. I want to go back where I had a purpose, where I had a job I loved, I had people around me, er, I had friends, it was familiar, I had a life, I knew how things worked”. I said, “I’ve come out here and I just don’t understand it. It’s a different world, it’s just … I just want to go back”. (Liam)

Liam described his freedom as being devoid of meaning, purpose or relationships. The reception he had been given from employers had eroded his resilience and he felt hurt and ‘broken’. This fragility was found within other participant accounts. Despite having their freedom, life outside of prison was lonely. Many of the participants expressed that the human connection that had formed organically within prison could not be established outside of it. In prison they were ‘the same’ as others, but outside they were different; stigmatised and judged. Their freedom was not what they had anticipated, which had resulted in periods of reflection and misplaced nostalgia. ‘You sometimes sit and think to yourself, y'know you can understand where these people are coming from that think they are better off in prison’ (Mickey). ‘I think that was one of the turning points where I thought ppfffff, what’s the point’ (Norman).

These extracts present a glimpse into how these participants construed their future prospects as hopeless. Current dire situations had led them to contemplate whether life was actually better now. Chris had also reflected on the role of hope and had begun to make sense of how other people in his situation had come to make their particular choices.

It is very frustrating. I can see why people give up and go back to offending because not all sex offenders purely go on to commit sex offences. So I understand why people may just give up and go back to committing offences. I can see that. (Chris)

Tewksbury (2012) stated that ex-prisoners were likely to express feeling hopeless if they perceived they were being unduly penalised, and reported that those with sexual convictions were more likely to see their lives as being out of their control, or hopeless. Internalising negative messages of hopelessness has disintegrative consequences. This was evidenced by the participant narratives empathising with people who go on to re-offend as a product of their social exclusion.

This analysis has highlighted that feelings of being overly restricted are rife among the participants in the present study. It should be noted that it was the combination of factors that was important in the participant narratives: they had few friends or family, little hope for finding paid employment, and were required by the British welfare system to apply for jobs in order to keep their benefits. This meant frequent experiences of criminal record disclosure, shame and rejection. As Chris described, the perception of having no hope produced the loss of incentive to remain offence-free. Bryan concurred, stating ‘ … all this indefinite stuff is just so draining. There’s nothing to hope for … it can even get to a stage where, well, actually going to prison isn’t so bad’ (Bryan).

Chris and Bryan’s narratives suggest they viewed these obstructions as disproportionately punitive. This experience was draining and led to feelings of hopelessness. Hope is critically important for the desistance process, especially for men with sexual convictions (Moulden & Marshall, 2005). When there is no hope, this can result in the perception of having very limited options:

I can see why there is a revolving door if there’s no support. If you’ve got nothing and you’ve got no money and you’ve got literally nothing to live for … you either end your life or reoffend, do something, because you get fed here [in prison], you get a bed here. I hate it. (Tony)

Tony’s narrative depicts a bleak set of options. Through the lived experience of being unable to move forward with his life, he had made sense of the opportunities before him and concluded there were only two viable options; death or return to prison. Other narratives similarly portrayed the experience of trying to secure employment as unrelenting, leading to feelings of despair. ‘I’m not ashamed to say I, erm, it’s not a good thing, I’ve taken three overdoses in my life’ (Wayne). For Liam, the despair and loss of hope became unbearable. He described one particular desperate moment:

But when I saw [the email] I felt so disheartened it hit me, and the really crazy thing that I can’t, even now I can’t explain why, but it just, I just took it so personally I just thought – this is never going to happen, I thought, here’s a career, here’s a, you know, a job that I absolutely love but it just doesn’t want me and I just can’t get anywhere. I walked out of that library and I was going to probation. I was walking up by the train station and I saw the buses coming round and trams coming round and I, I swear to God, I just felt just like throwing myself under and I just had had enough. It got that bad, it got that much, it’s hard to explain because it seems so trivial now when you just think it was just a knock back on a job. (Liam)

In this extract, Liam described feeling dejected, desolate, his future so bleak, that he had considered ending his life. Liam’s hope for the future was inextricably tied to being able to demonstrate his worth through a job that was meaningful to him. The rejection resulted in a complete loss of hope. This demonstrates how pervasive the ostracism was.

Discussion

This study aimed to explore the real and perceived barriers to employment faced by people with a criminal record pertaining to a sexual offence. The narratives gave rise to two superordinate themes: stigma as a barrier to employment and autonomy and control. This aligned with previous findings but also provided a richer understanding. A general criminal record can be a barrier to employment (MoJ, 2018b), but the label ‘sex offender’ can add intensity to the stigma experienced (Brown et al., 2007). The label not only suggests additional practical limitations but implies the individual is dangerous and predatory: a dreadful monster. The continued rejection experienced by these individuals had the effect of encouraging self-isolation and cautious disclosure practices. The knowledge of the ‘sex offender identity’ (Bensel & Sample, 2017) gave rise to feelings of hopelessness, particularly where additional restrictions were life-long. They felt a periodical desire to return to prison, and even suicidal thoughts. These findings underscore the assistance urgently required to bridge the gap between the apparent preparedness of individuals who leave prison and the willingness of people in society to employ them. The participants were motivated and qualified to work in their chosen field. They identified that work provided important funds to meet basic needs, live autonomously and acquire purpose, meaning and friendships. Work was therefore viewed as pivotal to reducing isolation and fuelling the desire to remain offence-free.

The participants were acutely aware of the level of stigma they faced. At points, they had been motivated to either conceal or minimise their offence, or self-isolate in order to avoid the judgement of others. This type of social exclusion, ‘disintegrative shaming’, is reported to have a lasting negative effect on self-esteem (McAlinden, 2005) and has been identified as a catalyst for social withdrawal and self-isolation (Robbers, 2009).

Some smaller-scale studies have suggested that employment rates, and the occupation of professional roles could be higher than average in this group (Aslan & Edelmann, 2014; Brown et al., 2007; Harris, 2014). In the UK, the manufacturing sector is least likely to request criminal record background checks, suggesting the main option for individuals with sexual convictions is into low or unskilled work (Haslewood-Pocsik et al., 2008). Given that there is some evidence to suggest these individuals could have a more stable and professional level of employment than previously thought, this is a distinct narrowing of their future options.

Waddell and Burton (2016) reported that employment was central to people’s identities and social status, and this was mirrored in the participants’ narratives. Work was seen as a way of contributing and belonging to something. There was a sense of loss from the participants at being denied the option of group membership via the workforce. For some, there was a real longing to mix with people. Social interactions with pro-social peers are a protective factor against recidivism and are of benefit to a person’s general psychological well-being and social capital (Harris et al., 2020; Scoones et al., 2012). The participant narratives initially echoed concern at the loss of financial autonomy, but overwhelmingly the real loss was in the social isolation that ensued.

Participants had experienced times where they felt better off in prison. In custody (or in community rehabilitation) they had been able to exist without the same degree of stigma and exclusion. Presently, there was little chance of avoiding stigma due to the requirement to search for work and attend interviews. Goffman (1963) suggested that when an individual internalises negative opinions and feels hopeless, they may reluctantly conclude that reoffending would not make their situation any worse. The participants in the current study wanted to move forward with their lives. They wanted to work, to earn, to be financially independent, to contribute and interact with others. They had the education, training and work experience to do this, yet were rejected, labelled and ostracised.

Upon examining the causes of entrenched beliefs, attention has to be drawn to media portrayals of sexual crimes. Harper and Hogue (2015) discovered that the reporting of sexual crimes in the press occurred at a higher rate than any other type of crime reporting. Harper and Hogue (2015) identified the case of the abduction and murder of schoolgirl Sarah Payne in 2000 as the defining moment in the media shift towards intense and emotive reporting of sexual crime. The ‘name and shame’ reporting style utilised and subsequent campaigning for tougher laws cemented the public’s hostility towards this group. It affirmed the perception of people with sexual convictions as a homogenous group with a high risk of reoffending. Whilst indeed there are a small number who are prolific offenders, the vast majority are deemed low risk (Bensel & Sample, 2017; Grubin & Wingate, 1996). Proven one year reoffending of those with sexual offending histories was reported at 14.7% (MoJ, 2018a) compared to around 49% for general reoffending (Prison Reform Trust, 2017).

Despite this evidence, the insinuation in media coverage is that the ‘dangerous recidivist’ is the norm (Levenson & Cotter, 2005). This inflicts a highly stigmatised homogenous group identity onto those with sexual offence histories. The negative public attitudes fuelled by such reporting create barriers to community re-entry by establishing a culture of disintegrative shaming. These attitudes steer the writing of ill-informed legislation aimed at appeasing public opinion, and ultimately increase cautious employment practices (Bensel & Sample, 2017). Jacobs and Larrauri (2012) summarised this situation succinctly: there is a need to balance ‘judicial transparency, deterrence, and individual and societal protection against the values of individual privacy, dignity and rehabilitation’ (Jacobs & Larrauri, 2012, p. 4). This statement recognises that disintegrative shaming serves only to further penalise the individual, cause isolation and increase the risk of recidivism. This was the case for the individuals in this study, all of whom had become accustomed to employer rejection, but were not accepting that permanent exclusion from the workforce was a proportionate punishment for their offence. In fact, quite the opposite. In some cases, it became apparent that employers were being branded an oppressive force and, at times, participants had considered themselves victims of an unduly punitive system. Willis and Letourneau (2018) suggest a way to begin the process of change is for professionals to modify the labels they use in everyday language. They suggest person-first language, for example, the use of ‘persons with sexual offending histories’ instead of ‘sex offender’, as the latter serves to ‘erode the public’s support for prevention and treatment efforts’ (Willis & Letourneau, 2018, p. 482).

The implications of this study highlight the current gap in provision for people who have sexual convictions. Whilst this group may receive support around their individual, social or accommodation needs, until there is a shift to view the individual rather than label, the research suggests employment opportunities are unlikely to drastically improve for people with sexual convictions. To this end, a change is required in the way sexual crime is reported in the media – and therefore discussed in the public domain. In contrast, positive work undertaken by organisations supporting ex-offenders is encouraging employers to challenge their own stereotypes (e.g. Clean Sheet, 2018; Clinks, 2018). Several high profile UK organisations now positively promote their inclusion of people with criminal records, yet often exclude those with sexual convictions without always specifying a rationale for doing so. In a bid to support reform in this area, the UK government pledged to consider a National Insurance contribution holiday for employers who recruit former prisoners, and will itself ‘lead by example’ in employing individuals with criminal records (MoJ, 2018b, p. 24). The government did not comment on whether those with sexual convictions would be included in this strategy.

Limitations

Studies utilising IPA are not designed to produce generalisable outcomes and the present paper is no different. However, this research presents a rich understanding of twelve experiences of seeking employment while in possession of a criminal record for a sexual offence. Themes produced from this analysis provide a basis for future research into this group. It should also be acknowledged that the participants were individuals who had wanted to contribute their experiences or had sought support to maintain their desistance from offending. They were individuals who were motivated to seek employment in order to advance their situation, and therefore these accounts may contain bias.

Conclusion

At the heart of this paper is the recognition that employment upon release from prison is key to successful rehabilitation and reintegration. At a basic level, employment provides individuals with basic financial autonomy. However, employment is important for so many other reasons: not least, it is an opportunity to reduce social isolation and is pivotal in providing a chance to invest in society and gain a sense of purpose and satisfaction.

Acknowledgements

The research team would like to thank all the participants who took part and acknowledge the emotional impact on them by speaking about their challenges in finding work. We would also like to thank and acknowledge Otsile Lekgaba, Jennifer Alcott, Seema Shah who contributed to data collection for this study, and Danny Micklethwaite who contributed to the analysis.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Data availability statement

Due to the nature of this research, participants of this study did not agree for their data to be shared publicly, so supporting data is not available.

Notes

1 The name of a website used to view exploitative child images was redacted.

2 The tense of this quote has been adapted for the article title to reflect that Kev was referring to a job interview undertaken in the past. Additionally, to avoid labelling language in the article title, ‘sex offenders’ was changed to “sex offending”.