For La’Keisha “KeWee'' Hamilton, it all started with a question: “If there was something someone could have said or done to change the path that led you here, what would it have been?”

“No one had ever asked me that before,” KeWee recalls.

Detective Kim Bogucki was meeting with incarcerated women at the Washington Corrections Center for Women (WCCW) in 2008, a visit that would eventually be known as the beginning of The IF Project. And even as dozens of women excitedly wrote their answers in pencil, KeWee was hesitant.

A Tacoma native, KeWee was only 21 years old when she first went to prison to serve a nearly-14-year sentence. For her entire life, she had been taught not to trust the police.

“They’ve never done anything good for me,” she says. “Even when you try to call them for help, it’s always a mess. There is no trust.”

But Detective Bogucki wanted to change that.

“Kim just kept showing up,” KeWee says. “She really cared—her actions showed that she cared—which means a lot in life, especially when you’re locked up. She earned my trust, and then I just started going through the process.”

KeWee says that her answer to the “IF Question” has changed a lot over the ensuing 13 years. She revisits the question often and describes the process as “peeling back layers'' of herself. And while she can’t quite recall her original answer, she’s confident that it had something to do with love.

“If someone would’ve cared enough to steer me in the right direction, or just teach me in any capacity, because I was just left to figure things out on my own. I went to a lot of foster homes and was sent to different relatives and passed around. I think if I would have felt cared for, loved, and nurtured, it definitely would’ve been different for me.”

Growing up, KeWee was a bright child, excelling in the classroom but unable to focus on her education. In her words, she was always in “survival mode,” and feels as though she missed out on a lot of her childhood.

“I just don’t want to see that happen to kids anymore. I want them to know that there are people who care about them, who want to see them reach their full potential, and that there are other options. I want to help end these curses of generational poverty. Plus, we need the youth—they are going to lead the world one day.”

For KeWee, these issues are personal on many levels; incarceration has been a part of her family for as long as she can remember. KeWee’s father went to prison for 20 years when she was only 12 years old, and was just released a couple of years before her own reentry. One of KeWee’s brothers was incarcerated at age 18, and just turned 35 behind bars. Her other brother was imprisoned as a juvenile and was only recently released. The family’s history of ending up in prison goes on and on.

“I wish my family could’ve had a chance. It’s generational – there’s a problem. If your grandparents, your parents, their children, and grandchildren, all end up in prison, and this pattern continues, then something is wrong, something is broken.”

KeWee says that her story isn’t unique in that respect. Many people she grew up with have experienced the same issue of generational incarceration.

“It affects your psyche, it affects how you love, how you show emotion, who you trust, and all these things that come along with being separated from loved ones. So, I do this work in part to prevent that for other families.”

While in prison, KeWee took every program possible, including the Trades Related Apprenticeship Coaching program (TRAC), which prepares participants for a union apprenticeship upon release. She figured the more courses she completed and the more certificates she attained, the easier it would be to find employment upon reentry. Unfortunately, that was not the case: while KeWee was accepted into the Cement Masons Local Union, she was still unable to find work.

“I had all this experience and all these certificates,” she says, “but it didn’t matter because I was a felon.”

The IF Project helped KeWee get a job as an editor and producer for the Delilah radio show. She says it was a major learning experience after having been away from technology for so long, but she doesn’t know what she would have done without the opportunity.

In addition to securing gainful employment, KeWee shares that finding stable housing is a major problem for many formerly-incarcerated individuals, partly because they have no recent rental history. She, though, was fortunate to be able to stay with her grandmother, and now shares an apartment with her partner.

“With a conviction, they make it almost impossible to find a place to live,” she says. “It’s like a revolving door and you’re marked for life.”

More than anything, however, KeWee says that she has struggled with the pain and guilt of leaving behind the family she created in prison. Yet it’s precisely this close-knit bond that drives her work today.

“It’s surreal how it has all come full circle. This started with just an idea, a question. Now I’m working for the organization and asking incarcerated folks the same ‘IF’ question that I was once asked.”

KeWee is The IF Project’s new Community Relations Coordinator, as well as co-chair of IF’s Advisory Council, a leadership group made up of formerly-incarcerated and justice-impacted individuals. She also shares her experiences as a member of IF’s Speaking Team, and is a co-creator of the Personal Reentry Education Plan (PREP) and Health and Wellness curricula currently being taught by IF in several Washington State correctional facilities.

And KeWee has just realized her greatest achievement: she is the proud mother of a newborn boy. After being incarcerated for so long, she had nearly given up hope of having a child. But with the arrival of her son, she finally feels like she’s overcoming her family’s burdensome history.

“I’m hoping that this little guy gives me the strength and courage to keep fighting for our family. He’s my only child and I hope he continues to break the curse. That’s why his name is ‘Legisi.’”