To Mary Leftridge Byrd, deputy secretary for specialized facilities and programs for the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, it's not about power.  It's not about brute force.  And, it's not about being tough. 

Rather, it's about seeing things in a different way.  It's about exploring different angles.  And, it's about being a woman in a male-dominated field. 

Most of all, though, it's about making it in corrections.

"It took hard work," said Leftridge Byrd, who has been climbing the corrections ladder for over 20 years now.  "It takes a good deal of physical and spiritual energy.  It takes ethics and creativity.  It takes a not-so-subtle sense of humor.  It takes the ability to connect with people.  It takes listening as much as it takes talking."

Listening is a skill that Leftridge Byrd has perfected over time, because through listening, she has been able to learn.

"I do listen very actively to people and I learn something new every day," Leftridge Byrd said.  "Even after all of these years, I am still learning and I think that's a good thing."

The years have carried Leftridge Byrd from a career as a caseworker for the Pennsylvania Department of Public Safety to various management-level positions at both men's and women's correctional facilities in Pennsylvania and Maryland.  The years have also carried the recently-named Delaware County, Pa., "Woman of the Year for 2003" deep into a profession that is predominantly male.

Being a Woman in Corrections

"I still think, even in today's world, that women are still seen by their gender first and their accomplishments second.  People may still describe a superintendent as a 'female' superintendent, but we would never describe their male counterparts as a 'male' superintendent," Leftridge Byrd said.  "That has to do with society and the larger world."

Changing these kinds of stereotypes and perceptions about women, according to Leftridge Byrd, will take, time vigilance and courage.

"The numbers of men [in corrections] still outweigh that numbers of women," Leftridge Byrd said.  "That is changing, especially [with] our corrections officers," she added.  "I try to find people who I can bring with me on this journey."

Leftridge Byrd often looks out for female corrections employees and helps them along, so they may someday ascend through the corrections ranks like she did.  For the former caseworker, her uphill climb began as a dare.

Getting Started in Corrections

"I became a county probation officer on a dare, it was a professional dare," Leftridge Byrd said.  "A chief probation officer told me that I didn't [have] what it [took] to be a probation officer.  He told me that [he] was looking for people with potential and promise and that wasn't me."

After Leftridge Byrd became one of his best officers, she slipped him notes here and there to let him know about every promotion or accolade she received.  And the success she encountered as a probation officer was repeated in other jobs she held.

From county probation, Leftridge Byrd moved on to become a state parole officer, a job that lead her to corrections.

"A parolee pulled a gun on me.  After I got out of that situation, I told the district supervisor in parole that I wanted to work someplace safe," Leftridge Byrd said.  "I wanted to work in a prison because I perceived prison to be a safer place."

Leftridge Byrd's first assignment to a prison, SCI Camp Hill in Pennsylvania, was somewhat of an experiment. 

"I was supposed to go on a pilot for six months to see whether a woman could be successful in a man's institution," she said.

In line with her performance as a probation officer, Leftridge Byrd flourished while working in a men's prison, too.  Her half-year endeavor at Camp Hill ended up lasting for six years.

"I think a number of people in corrections look to their first experience and claim that as the place that taught them a lot and that is true," Leftridge Byrd said.  Camp Hill, where her office is currently located, is just that place for her.

"My office window overlooks that place and that's ironic because I really grew up there professionally," she said.

When Leftridge Byrd left Camp Hill, she headed to Maryland to the National Criminal Justice Reference Service to work as a correctional research specialist.  But, she missed prisons, so she became a literacy volunteer in Montgomery County.  Before long, she was interviewing for another position at a correctional facility.

"I thought I belonged inside and began to look for employment with the Maryland Department of Corrections," Leftridge Byrd said.  "I interviewed to run a women's halfway house and the then-commissioner hired me as his executive assistant, which is probably good because I didn't know a doggone thing about running a halfway house."

Leftridge Byrd worked as the commissioner's executive assistant for about three years before assuming a similar position in Washington, D.C.  After two years of working in the nation's capital, she returned to the Maryland DOC as an assistant warden, eventually becoming the warden of a women's prison there.

"A person's career is not complete until they've worked with women," said Leftridge Byrd.  "You have to work with women.  You really do."

Heading Home

After working as a warden in Maryland for two years, Leftridge Byrd received a call from the Pennsylvania DOC.  They were looking for a warden for a women's prison, SCI Muncy.

"I came up to tour the women' prison and I should have known that if the department had to reach that far to find a warden that it would be a challenging assignment.  And it was everything it promised to be," Leftridge Byrd said.  "[But] when I walked through the circle of the prison, surrounded by old trees--a beautiful, beautiful setting--in that moment, I was spiritually called to be the warden of that prison."

And, her husband, who was with her, could feel the pull too.

"My husband and I looked at each other and he said 'When are we moving up here,'" Leftridge Byrd said.

Her decision was made and they went.

"At that point in my career, it was the most challenging assignment I had ever had because the entire prison needed to be differently managed," Leftridge Byrd said.

But, the challenges kept on coming.

On June 30, 1998, Leftridge Byrd was transferred to SCI Chester, a men's facility where she served as superintendent until 2003.

"When I was told I was going there, the former secretary told me at a meeting and I was three hours from home," Leftridge Byrd said.  "I was practicing [on the ride home] how I was going to tell my husband we were moving.  I told him that night and started packing when I got home, I think."

Within three days, Leftridge Byrd had arrived at her new facility.

"That experience taught me a lot also and has helped define me as a person and as a professional," Leftridge Byrd said, citing many issues she encountered  there, including dealing with the children of incarcerated parents and building positive relationships between corrections and the community.

Dealing With Important Issues

"One of the things that is true about corrections is it's fine 364 days, [but it's] just that one day when it all goes to Hades in a hand basket [that the community hears about]," Leftridge Byrd said.  "My sense is that we [need to] engage the public in a different, proactive way, [then], if it goes bad, the public isn't knowing us for the first time and it's defined by a five-inch headline."

Now, as she oversees specialized facilities and programs, Leftridge Byrd is still working to build stronger relationships with the community, but she is also responsible for education, substance abuse, parenting and reentry and transition programs--important issues that she believes need to be addressed.

"Inmates are not born inmates.  They are born baby boys and girls just like us," Leftridge Byrd said.  "We have to figure out how to make sure the community continues to see these people as part of their lives."

Building a Family

Although Leftridge Byrd never had any children of her own, her family has continued to grow throughout her career.  Correctional facilities, in her estimation, are very similar to kids and each one she worked in became an adopted child.

"They have temper tantrums.  They are sparkly on some days and other days you don't want to be around them," said Leftridge Byrd.  "I think that organizations need to be parented.  They need to have happen to them what we want to have happen to our own," she added.  "I really believe that."   

If prisons are her children, then the staff Leftridge Byrd has worked alongside throughout the years have been her support system in raising them.

"I think about creating linkages with people I work with because they have a wealth of experience and I appreciate them and their work," Leftridge Byrd said.  "I work with really good people who have not forgotten how to balance the serious work with respecting each other and smiling once in a while."

Leftridge Byrd's advice to those staff members and others working in corrections is to keep the job in perspective and never lose sight of who they are.

"I think one of the things you do is not allow yourself to be overwhelmed with the big picture, but know that the big picture is what your work is all about," Leftridge Byrd said.  "It's important to define yourself by who you are first and what you do second."

Although Leftridge Byrd does not define herself by solely by her work, corrections has become a huge part of who she is.

"I am defined by what I do, but I am not defined by my title," Leftridge Byrd said.  "[But], at this point in my career I know that I can not separate my vocation from my advocation."

Resources:

To contact the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, call (717) 975-4862