"It is a privilege to live here," says Jean Dougherty, emphasizing the word privilege. "Isn't that our motto?" she asks.

"Yes," groan the fourteen different voices of the women sprawled on couches around the living room. It doesn’t look much different in here than a sorority house: Couches line the walls; the newspaper is strewn across a coffee table. The television and stereo -- silent for now, but usually tuned to a soap opera or a bad movie, or blasting out rock music -- sit in a wall unit. But these are no college co-eds.

"So why are the kitchens still a mess?" There is a hint of exasperation in Jean’s voice. This isn't the first time, and it most likely won't be the last, that she will complain about messy kitchens during a house meeting.

"Well, I'd say something… but she isn't here," Katie¹ says. There’s a house rule against talking behind people’s backs. All complaints about a woman’s behavior have to be made to her face. "I keep telling her, but . . ."

"Who?" asks Rose.

"Well, she isn't here" Katie repeats.

"She's at work," somebody pipes in, excusing the missing woman’s absence at these mandatory meetings.

"I'm going to kick her butt if I lose my first weekend off because she isn't doing the damn dishes." Rose looks around the room for emphasis.

"Okay, okay" Jean interrupts. "Katie, have you spoken with her?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, but it doesn't seem to sink in." Katie says. "I'll try again when she gets home."

Home for these women -- at least for a short period of time, perhaps 90 days -- is Sponsors, a private nonprofit program that provides transitional services to women who have been recently released from jail or prison and are on probation or parole. Women live at the Sponsors house -- nestled in a residential area in west Eugene, Oregon -- for up to three months and receive, according to the program brochure, "self sufficiency and life skills training, stress management, recovery and substance abuse counseling, parent education classes, and . . . individual counseling sessions.”

The women here are a diverse group in age, race, ethnicity and criminal background. Some have been in and out of jail for years. Others come to Sponsors after their first incarceration.

The exasperated woman, Katie, has streaked blonde hair pulled back off her face. Her long jeans hide the bracelet around her ankle. It is not jewelry but a court-mandated electronic bracelet which monitors -- and therefore limits -- her whereabouts through radio transmission. Katie has only two more weeks on the bracelet but will stay at Sponsors for another few weeks after that. She is young -- perhaps twenty-two -- and doesn't talk much about her background. She looks like somebody's next door neighbor, or the college kid who works at the 7-11. But if she's here, it is clear she is more than that: She's a convicted felon and probably has an addiction.

Donna also has an addiction, and she'll talk about it with anybody who will listen. She describes herself as a "late bloomer." She didn't start using drugs until she was forty-eight years old, and now at the age of 68, her body shows the impact of twenty years on the streets. Her face is weather-beaten, her glasses look like the type that a grandmother might wear -- a little too large, pearly pink metal frames covering eyes that are a bit milky. But with Donna, it is only one eye. Her left eye is gone, the socket covered by skin sewn shut at the bottom.

Donna came to Sponsors after a stint in the county jail for a series of probation violations. She had gone in for about nine days, and when she got out, she ran into her old boyfriend in an alley behind her favorite bakery. She had been trying to avoid him because he had abused her in the past. When she saw him, she tried to leave, but he caught her from behind, pulled her long auburn hair, and threw her to the ground. He forced her to perform oral sex, and then as he was about to pull off her pants to continue the rape, somebody came out the back door of the bakery and yelled at him. He yanked up his jeans and ran away. Donna pulled herself together and then headed to her required meeting with her Probation Officer. Donna knew it was a violation of her probation, but she had been using drugs again. After a urinalysis confirmed this, her PO sent her back to jail for another seven days.

When she was released from the jail, Sue Comfort, the case manager from Sponsors, was waiting outside the door. Sue had tried to get Donna into Sponsors in the past, but she wasn't ready. She was still using, and wasn't ready to quit. But this time was different. Donna was ready, and wanted a place to stay where she would be safe from the ex-boyfriend. She went to Sponsor's with Sue.