East Bay center helps former inmates train for productive careers
While he was serving a 17-year sentence for armed robberies at Solano State Prison, Sadakao "Doc" Whittington decided he needed to turn his life around.
His first step was finding a career he could pursue after his release.
"I wrote to everyone I was interested in and the Sprinkler Fitters (U.A. Local 483) sent me a packet that was so thick with a plethora of information. I would put it up on my bunk and I would just dream, '40 hours times this' and how my life would change," he said. "All my life, I just wanted to be apart of something great. The envelope I sent them, it had 'California State Prison Solano' on it. They saw that, but they saw me as a human bring. They gave me a shot when nobody else would."
Before he received the opportunity to train and work as a fire sprinkler fitter, Whittington learned a variety of trades, including operating heavy equipment and welding.
"When you buy a car, you don't buy it just cause it looks good from the outside. You buy it for the heated seats, the Bose system, (and) the different amenities it comes with. That's who I saw those services with me," he said. "My sole goal was to get enough construction experience because I understood I was coming in as a 41-year-old man. My idea was to get whatever certificates I could to make me applicable."
With his professional amenities on his belt, Whittington looked for other jobs before he eventually trained and worked his way up to being a fire sprinkler foreman.
However, he realized his criminal record prevented him from being considered a serious candidate wherever he applied.
"They're not giving you a shot because they can't see past your conviction or your work absence, no matter how well you present yourself," he said.
Ex-prisoners fare poorly in the labor market post-incarceration, according to a 2018 study by the Brookings Institution.
Only 55% of ex-prisoners reported any earnings in the first, full calendar year after their release. Of those earnings, 4% earned less than $500, 32% earned between $500 and $15,000, and 20% earned more than $15,000.
Whittington credits his labor union and the West Oakland Job Resource Center for helping him find his career and reenter into society post-incarceration.
Located on the second floor of the West Oakland Public Library, the resource center is a nonprofit offering employment training and career assistance for some of Oakland's most underserved residents.
"The West Oakland Job Center is a beacon of light," Whittington said. "I stand on the shoulders of everybody that assisted me and everybody that came before me. I'm not sure where I'd be at if it wasn't for them."
Tarecq Amer, the assistant director at the West Oakland Job Resource Center, called Whittington both an inspiration and an outlier.
"We have just innumerable clients here who just can't deal with all the denials, all the barriers that they face day to day, as they're trying to apply for jobs and getting turned down," Amer said. "At a certain point, there's so much demoralizing news that a person faces when they're trying to just get a job. Certainly much less trying to get a career started. A lot of people, they give up. (Whittington) becomes inspirational that he was able to push through. But he also, his story doesn't touch everybody. Because a lot of people just can't push through."
As someone who works extensively with ex-prisoners looking for employment, Amer said widespread changes are needed for post-incarcerated individuals to truly reintegrate into society.
"What is missing is a strong policy push that will actually make significant changes for our clients (and) for people like our clients who are facing these sorts of barriers," he said. "There has to be a strong push at the local level, the state level, and the federal level to really look at the way we do incarceration and post-incarceration that is just and isn't continually punitive for people. They served their time. When they get out, they should have opportunities. If they don't have opportunities, it's a crisis for them and, ultimately, it becomes a crisis for our communities in general. We need to break that cycle."
