Abstract
Individuals convicted of child sexual offenses face one of the most stigmatized labels in modern society. Their ability to hide this label is restricted, even in countries without public registration or notification. This study explores how anticipated stigma influences men who have reoffended sexually in their preparations for community reentry. Nineteen currently incarcerated “sexual recidivists” were interviewed twice using McAdams' Life Story Interview, supplemented by questions that invited reflections on identity, stigma, and stigma management. Drawing on modified labeling theory, reflexive thematic analysis was used to explore their negotiation of anticipated stigma management. The results show that stigma had a disruptive effect on the men's narratives about the future, that their negotiation of stigma management strategies took the form of a cost–benefit analysis, and that in the absence of a formula for preventive telling, preventive behavior manifested as a future strategy. These findings are discussed in terms of desistance, redemption scripts, and society's lack of language in this regard.
Introduction
Child sexual offending (CSO) represents a form of crime that evokes the most fear, anger, and negative emotions among people (Harper et al., 2017, 2024). Having committed such crimes places the perpetrator in a discredited group whose stigma is unmistakably communicated through the media (Zatkin et al., 2021). One prominent stereotypical misperception is that individuals convicted of CSO recidivate at high rates and, therefore, pose an imminent risk of reoffending (Galeste et al., 2012). In reality, official recidivism rates for individuals convicted of sexual offenses are lower than for individuals convicted of other types of crime, and general recidivism is more common than sexual recidivism (Hanson and Bussière, 1998; Hanson et al., 2018). In the current context, which is Norway, less than 4% of individuals released from sexual offenses had been reconvicted for a sexual offense after a mean follow-up period of six years, and about 10% had been reconvicted for a general crime (Sandbukt et al., 2021). Thus, although official recidivism rates are not a complete measure of actual crime (as many sexual offense remain undetected or unreported), research establishes “high risk by default” as an incorrect assumption (Hanson et al., 2018). At the same time, this makes those individuals who do reoffend and return to prison for a subsequent sexual crime a minority among individuals convicted of CSO, and a subpopulation worthy of qualitative research attention. Thus far, the unique insight they possess regarding the experience of “being a recidivist” has been underexplored, particularly in relation to stigma and stigma management. As stigma is an omnipresent challenge within prisons as well as in the community, the results of this study may have important implications in terms of how individuals convicted of CSO can be assisted in their desistance processes.
The negative consequences of stigma and labeling are many and well known (Becker, 1963; Goffman, 1963), including for individuals with a history of sexual offending (Lowe and Willis, 2019; Tewksbury, 2012). As opposed to stigmas that are observable and immediately obvious to others, a CSO conviction is, in most cases, concealable. Still, such a background may be discovered by others through rumors, coincidences, media coverage, or—in some countries—public registries. Thus, those with sexual recidivism histories are left with a dilemma regarding how to socially navigate their stigmatized position, often creating a confusing inner dialogue: “To display or not to display; to tell or not to tell; to let on or not to let on; to lie or not to lie; and in each case, to whom, how, when, and where” (Goffman, 1963: 57). The current study explores this dilemma by investigating the prospective narratives of 19 incarcerated individuals repeatedly convicted of CSO. Drawing on modified labeling theory (MLT) (Link et al., 1989), it investigates how they anticipate stigma and negotiate future stigma management strategies. MLT recognizes that stigma management strategies can be applied preventively, including in the absence of an immediately visible label. However, although the strategies that MLT outlines—secrecy, withdrawal, and preventive telling (education)—are meant to ease or even ward off stigmatization, each comes with costs for the individual who attempts to apply them (Link et al., 1989). Thus, this study highlights some of the issues involved in deciding whether to conceal or reveal a highly stigmatized identity. Considering that stigma represents one of the most prominent obstacles to successful reintegration and desistance (Suzuki et al., 2024; Tuschick et al., 2024), this insight may be vital for understanding how sexual recidivism may be prevented.
The stigma of CSO
Within the social sciences, stigmatization and labeling are related concepts in the sense that they are social processes targeting deviance, abnormality, or otherwise “undesired differentness” (Goffman, 1963). Link and Phelan (2001) demonstrated the complexity of these processes by conceptualizing stigma as materializing “when elements of labeling, stereotyping, separating, status loss and discrimination co-occur in a power situation that allows these processes to unfold” (p. 382). The stigma literature suggests several forms or types of stigma, including physical, moral, and social (Ashforth and Kreiner, 1999; Goffman, 1963). Goffman (1963) also distinguished individuals who are “discredited”—whose stigma is known or clearly visible—from individuals who are “discreditable,” whose stigma is yet unknown and concealable.
Having sexually offended is a typical moral stigma that speaks to other people's perceptions of the individual's identity—that something is wrong with them in terms of their values, beliefs, or otherwise “flawed character” (Goffman, 1963). While individuals with a general criminal history may also be perceived in this way, the moral stigma associated with sexual offending is more pronounced, particularly when the victim is a child (Ievins and Crewe, 2015). Common beliefs about people convicted of CSO include that they are morally aberrant, prey on stranger victims, have a high risk of reoffending, and cannot benefit from treatment (Galeste et al., 2012; Katz-Schiavone et al., 2008; Spencer and Ricciardelli, 2016). These stereotypical perceptions have provided fertile ground for the much-used “monster” label (Kruse and Skilbrei, 2024; Tovey et al., 2022), which has been applied in various contexts to those who belong to the most stigmatized group in modern society and “who must and will reoffend” (Werth, 2023). The individual and societal consequences of such labeling and stigma can be profound. Several studies have shown how those who are mandated to register as “sex offenders” struggle to handle their stigmatized position upon release (Tuschick et al., 2024). In addition to difficulties accessing basic social needs, such as housing, employment, and support services, many experience stress, fear, and reduced psychological well-being and social opportunities while trying to reestablish a role in society (Harris and Levenson, 2021; Mingus and Burchfield, 2012). Public registration and community notification represent structural stigmatization, making societal reentry increasingly difficult. Nonetheless, social stigmatization is still a concern, even in jurisdictions without registration and notification. In a study of men recently released from sexual offense sentences in Norway, the interviewees reported stress, social withdrawal, and altered self-narratives (Sandbukt, 2021). The interviewees attributed these challenges to being frequently reminded of the social stigma surrounding sexual offending, for instance, through the media. The public statement made in 2018 by the then Minister of Justice in Norway, “If you rape a child, you are a monster,” serves as a prominent example. Thus, although not immediately “discredited” by others, people convicted of CSO recognize that in the eyes of others, they are certainly “discreditable” (Goffman, 1963).
Anticipated stigma and stigma management
Anticipated stigma refers to the expectation that one will be treated differently because of one's stigmatized status or label (Winnick and Bodkin, 2008). This expectation does not require first-hand experience of prejudice or discrimination, although such experience may strengthen the anticipation of stigma. Nevertheless, as stigma is a threat to identity, individuals who anticipate stigma often try to manage the degree to which they are stigmatized. In this regard, the MLT approach (Link et al., 1989) offers a framework for understanding these processes.
MLT was originally developed as an extension of labeling theory to capture the experiences of mental patients (Link et al., 1989). While acknowledging that labeling may not, in and of itself, produce secondary deviance (Lemert, 1951), the MLT approach describes how the stigmatization and labeling of certain groups can have other negative outcomes for those belonging to those groups. In particular, their social opportunities may be affected, as “their beliefs about the implications of the label they carry and their way of dealing with it shape the nature of their social connectedness” (Link et al., 1989: 419). MLT outlines a five-step process starting when an individual becomes aware of society's negative conceptions of a certain group, either through socialization or forms of stigma communication. Next, the individual is officially assigned a stigmatized status (e.g. through treatment or a criminal record), meaning that the societal conceptions described in the first step now become relevant to the individual themselves. The third step describes three possible coping strategies that those who recognize that they belong to a stigmatized group may endorse: secrecy, withdrawal, and preventive telling. Secrecy denotes an individual's attempts to completely conceal their stigmatized status from others to avoid rejection. This aligns with Goffman's (1963) descriptions of “passing.” Withdrawal describes coping by limiting one's social interaction to trusted others (what Goffman (1963) referred to as the “own” or the “wise”). The final response suggested by Link et al. (1989) is preventive telling (originally referred to as “education”), where the individual chooses to preemptively disclose their stigma while attempting to dictate the ensuing narrative (Spivey, 2024). The function of these strategies is to avert or soften anticipated negative responses from others. However, each strategy comes with certain costs, a challenge that is recognized through the fourth and fifth steps of MLT (Link et al., 1989). For example engaging in withdrawal could lead to isolation and weak social ties, and preventive telling may result in similar consequences if the attempt to educate others fails, and the individual is instead rejected.
Several studies have investigated how the strategies suggested in MLT are endorsed and applied by various stigmatized populations, including individuals with a criminal history (e.g. Gjeruldsen et al., 2023; Ramakers, 2021; Winnick and Bodkin, 2008). Mingus and Burchfield (2012) applied MLT to examine the social-psychological consequences of being labeled a “sex offender” among a sample of U.S. parolees mandated to register. In this group, preventive telling was the preferred coping strategy. As the researchers themselves implied, knowing that most people would have access to the online registry may have influenced this decision. However, the researchers also found that the more these individuals feared being devalued or discriminated against, the more likely they were to use secrecy and withdrawal strategies. The results thus indicate that stigma anticipation may lead individuals to avoid reintegration-promoting activities and that ultimately, maladaptive stigma management may impede the desistance process.
Identity, stigma management, and desistance
Despite several theoretical branches in the desistance literature, desistance has gradually been established as a three-phase process. Maruna and Farrall (2004) distinguished between primary (behavioral change) and secondary (identity change) desistance, and McNeill (2015) later added tertiary desistance as a third phase. Tertiary desistance involves a sense of belonging, facilitated by the acceptance and recognition of identity change by other people; hence, the alternative term “relational desistance” (Nugent and Schinkel, 2016). In summary, much of the desistance literature stresses that desistance is a social process and one of identity reconstruction in which individuals stop identifying as “an offender” (Maruna and Farrall, 2004; Maruna, 2001; McNeill, 2015).
According to the narrative identity theory (McAdams, 1985, 2011), people construct stories of the self to make sense and meaning of their lives. An important purpose is to provide a moral justification for who they were, are, and will be in the future. In this endeavor, people draw on familiar stories and the prevailing cultural norms and themes that run through the many narratives they encounter in social life (McAdams, 2011; Sandberg, 2016). This is a relational process—one that involves the individual's connections to other people. Moreover, narrative identity, made up of self-defining stories, is constantly evolving (McAdams, 2011). Maruna (2001) used narrative identity theory to conceptualize how individuals with a criminal background can create an internalized life story that helps them “rewrite” their shameful pasts by finding meaning and developing “a coherent, prosocial identity for themselves” (p. 7). His research highlighted the constitutive nature of stories and referred to the narration of a reformed self as a redemption script. Such a script usually includes a sense of control over and hope for the future (Maruna, 2001). In turn, as people tend to “live by” the stories they create about themselves (McAdams, 1993), redemption scripts allow for the manifestation of desistance.
The dilemma found at the intersection between stigma management and disclosure has been seen in relation to desistance in various populations with criminal histories (Gålnander, 2020; Gjeruldsen et al., 2023). Moreover, disclosing, which is required by the preventive telling strategy of MLT, can be a difficult and traumatic task, particularly for those whose pasts involve sexual crimes. For instance, Tovey et al.'s (2022) findings from interviews with 12 men in England with sexual convictions introduced the metaphor of “the disclosure bombshell” to describe this prominent barrier while seeking employment. Ricciardelli and Mooney (2018) followed releasees over a period of three years to investigate how disclosure served as a form of stigma management. They found that the decision to disclose either fully, conditionally, or not at all changed with time and experience. The researchers also established that those who were convicted of sexual offenses found it more difficult to disclose, and more often chose not to disclose than those convicted of, for example economic crimes. Drawing on Maruna's (2001) concept of redemption scripts, these findings support the notion that “individuals are more likely to disclose if their criminal history can be reworked and presented as a coherent narrative of desistance” (Ricciardelli and Mooney, 2018: 361). In this regard, the narratives of those incarcerated and convicted of CSO multiple times are of interest. In addition to carrying society's most stigmatized label, these individuals have consistently failed to establish themselves as “creditable,” rendering them far from being perceived as desisters in the eyes of the public. How might this profound stigma shape their envisioned futures and strategies for navigating life?
The current study
Research has paid little attention to how stigma interferes with the future prospects of individuals convicted of CSO. Moreover, we know little about how repeated failure impacts anticipated stigma and stigma management. This is the focus of this study. Nineteen men repeatedly convicted of CSO and carrying the “sexual recidivist” label share their reflections on the past as well as the future while negotiating ways to manage anticipated stigma. The research questions guiding the present study are as follows: To what degree do individuals with CSO recidivism experience anticipate stigma, how do they plan to manage the stigma they anticipate, and what do they emphasize while negotiating different options?
Methodology
The sample (n = 19) included in this study stems from a larger qualitative study of 23 incarcerated men in Norway who had sexually recidivated. Eligible participants were identified by the correctional service based on the fact that they were currently serving a sexual offense sentence and had also done so in the past. Recruitment to the study was facilitated by a designated staff member in eligible prison units across Norway. Individuals who agreed to participate were interviewed twice by the author between 2021 and 2022 in the prison where they were currently incarcerated. Participation was voluntary and based on written informed consent. No financial incentive was offered for participation. The study was approved by the Data Protection Officer at Oslo University Hospital and the relevant correctional agencies. Recruitment and data collection processes are described in more detail elsewhere (Sandbukt, 2024).
Beyond the fact that the participants had sexually recidivated, all information was self-reported. The current sample consisted of men who said they were imprisoned for CSO (as opposed to the rape of an adult). Most had engaged in some form of physical contact offense toward minors, although often in addition to internet-facilitated offenses. Only one man reported that he was exclusively convicted of possessing child sexual abuse material. Four men to some degree denied their offending histories, either more or less completely or specifically their most recent offense, which constituted their recidivism. Compared to jurisdictions that are less “exceptional” (Pratt, 2008), sentences in Norway remain relatively short. Five of the men served fixed sentences, ranging from three and a half to 12 years. The majority, however, served the indeterminate sentence forvaring (see Appleton et al., 2025) and did not know exactly when they would be released and face society. The men's age at the time of the first interview ranged from 30 to 84 (mean: 51.5). Prior CSO convictions ranged from one to five, and prior releases ranged from one to three.
The interviews followed a semistructured guide that allowed for an open and inductive approach. The Life Story Interview (LSI) (McAdams, 2007) served as a baseline for interviews, aiming to gain insight into the interviewees’ perspectives on the past, present, and future. The LSI was supplemented by questions focusing on experiences from prior periods of imprisonment, release, and reentry. A set of questions also invited the participants to reflect upon topics such as identity and self-image, stigma and labeling, and stigma management. The 38 interviews analyzed for the current study lasted two hours, on average. I emphasized to all participants that my confidentiality duty was absolute (unless they shared something that required mandatory reporting). The men were assured that their decision to participate, opt out, or withdraw would not have any consequences for them or their sentences.
The analysis followed the steps of reflexive thematic analysis (Braun and Clarke, 2022), aiming to identify patterns of meaning across the data. The interviews were transcribed verbatim and re-read several times for familiarization. The questions related to the future were of particular relevance for the current study, as these centered on the men's hopes and dreams, their imagined “next chapter,” and possible challenges, obstacles, and “worst-case scenarios.” However, the men often spoke of anticipated stigma and stigma management when they reflected on other questions. This observation led to the full transcripts being subject to the first wave of coding. As most narratives emphasize temporality and causality (Sandberg, 2022), stories that initially described the past turned out relevant for exploring the current research questions, as they often informed the “evaluation” of stories about an imagined future (Labov, 1972). Thus, the first steps of organizing the data involved identifying any excerpts where the men spoke of self-experienced stigma, anticipated stigma, and stigma management. I also created specific codes for “secrecy,” “withdrawal,” and “preventive telling.” Subsequently, excerpts that included any stigma management experience, attempt, plan, or simply a reflection in this regard were then sorted under “past” and “future.” This led to the development of further codes and child codes that captured the negotiation processes related to applying these and other stigma management strategies. NVivo 12 software was used for organizing and coding.
I made several attempts to purposefully organize my findings into themes. This was a time-consuming endeavor. I engaged in multiple waves of coding and restructuring before I managed to identify clear patterns. As part of the review and refinement of themes, I revisited the broader life stories of the men and my own memos from when the data were collected to inform my interpretation. The final themes captured the shared meaning that I observed across the men's narratives. Thus, the results tell my story about their stories. The participants have been ascribed pseudonyms, and data excerpts have been translated from Norwegian into English and then lightly edited for clarity. In this process, a native English speaker who is familiar with the current research was consulted.
Results
The thematic analysis yielded four distinct yet interconnected themes that illuminate the complex reflections and negotiations the men engaged in when confronting their stigmatized identities while looking toward the future.
Disturbed present, disrupted future
In my first interview with Adrian, I asked him what went through his head when he realized after his first conviction that he had indeed become a person convicted of a sexual offense. His response revealed concerns not only related to the social implications of having a CSO conviction but also to how the “recidivist” status is likely to make already poor matters worse. This is what he replied: Well, I was awfully worried about what people were going to think, of course I was. … And I have the same concern now, y’know. Of course, it doesn’t get any better when it's not your first failure. It just gets worse and worse, really. [T]hese are not things that I enjoy thinking about. Like when you ask me … what I believe people on the outside think of me. Because of course, I think about that sometimes, and it's … I know that it's nothing good. … I can’t do anything about it when I’m in here anyway, so it's kind of … well, it's not totally meaningless, but it's pretty uncomfortable to spend a lot of time thinking about it. And when you know you’re going to be in prison for like three more years, then that won’t be a good existence, y’know. … (But) you can’t just sit here for years and pretend like nothing happened and then go out again and hope that everything is normal. ‘Cause that won’t happen.
As a result, an unpleasant state of unease had evolved and continued to have a disruptive effect on the stories the men shared about their futures (see also Lindegren, 2024), also when we discussed the future in more general and positive terms. For instance, when asked what they hoped and dreamed of in the future, most men typically described known representations of common desistance-focused goals (or “primary human goods”; Harris et al., 2019; Ward, 2002). However, anticipation of stigma often put a sudden narrative stop to their dreaming, as in this excerpt: Of course I want to have a partner. And a meaningful life, y’know. A job, and the social part. Of course that means a lot, and I’m also hoping that I can feel a bit more accepted than I do now, to put it that way, as time passes. That might be a longer and more challenging process now, considering that I’ve ended up in prison again. (Jens)
Despite frequent claims of having changed, some men referred to themselves as “sex offenders” in our conversations about the future, saying, for instance, that “as a sex offender, I know I can’t…” or “as a sex offender, I have to consider….” Such statements imply that they have somewhat internalized or accepted this label as part of their current and future identity. However, rather than fully accepting the label, it seemed as if many felt a need to hold on to it. William explained it thus: Many will automatically think the worst of me, and I’m kind of thinking, in one way, that … I’m not thinking that identifying as a sex offender now and forever and always is useful, but it's about being prepared that some people might perceive me that way. That's something I should be aware of both in here and for the rest of my life, y’know. Of course, in some situations it's counterproductive, or at least not helpful, to portray oneself as (a sex offender), but I think that it's kind of sensible to keep it in the back of my head in all situations.
Negotiating stigma management strategies: A cost–benefit analysis
By and large, the men in this study favored the MLT strategies of secrecy and withdrawal over preventive telling in most situations and settings; it would simply be easier to refrain from coming forward with their pasts than trying to explain them. Some men also highlighted that it was their choice whether to be open about their offending histories—it was not everyone's right to know. However, the men did clearly recognize that attempts at stigma management would come with costs as well as benefits. When negotiating future stigma management strategies, they therefore engaged in what may best be described as a cost–benefit analysis. This analysis continuously took several elements into account, including lessons learned from past attempts at managing stigma, the omnipresent risk of (involuntary) disclosure, and the personal costs that dishonesty would have in certain relationships.
Looking back on past experience: Lessons learned
Narratives usually emphasize temporality (one event after another) and causality (one event leading to the next) (Sandberg, 2022). This was seen in how many of the men drew on past experiences when negotiating future strategies. Several of them shared that upon prior release(s), they had attempted to “go under the radar” to avoid negative reprisals, thus relying on strategies of secrecy or withdrawal. In retrospect, these were not always considered good strategies. Mikael explained this as follows: (After my last release) I said I had been in prison a little while, but I never said for what or how long or where. But ‘I’ve been to prison for a little while,’ yeah. But then I had three years of parole, you know, and I just said, ‘Well, I got an extension for petty crimes,’ right, and that kind of stupid stuff. But they chose to trust me. But yeah, um, that's what's … I see now that it hasn’t made things easier in terms of living when I get out again. That I’m not able to be honest with the people I’m going to be around.
Richard had lost a job opportunity after his offending history was discovered. He served a forvaring sentence and needed to be honest about this fact in the interview. He had, however, refrained from disclosing the details of his convictions, as the employer had given him the impression that this was irrelevant. Later, however, the employer had gotten this information from someone else. Richard explained how he now regretted his decision and planned to apply the strategy of preventive telling in similar settings in the future: Yeah, that's the experience I’m left with now. … That maybe, when they said that they didn’t care about it, that maybe I should have said ‘but I would like to tell you.’ Then they could have decided right then and there, rather than getting to know it through a third party. So, that's something I’ve thought about a lot; that maybe that's a better way to do it. … Maybe I should be more open than I have been so far, y’know.
The risk of involuntary disclosure
Although the statutory right to refrain from disclosing one's background is intended as an opportunity to avoid stigmatization in Norway, it also caused additional stress for the men in terms of stigma management. They needed to carefully consider which strategy to apply and when, and they recognized that keeping their labels hidden could be difficult. As Richard pointed out, “Norway isn’t that big, and rumors will come and that may lead to problems in the future, um, in terms of job opportunities and all those things.” This is a fair assumption, as previous studies have demonstrated that informal notification of, for instance, potential employers can lead to such problems (see Sandbukt, 2021). Moreover, some men imagined that media coverage of their cases could expose them. As Jens said, “Many will, of course, google.” As a result, several men said they wanted to move to a different city or even a different country to make secrecy and withdrawal more viable options. One man also strongly considered changing his name. Although these solutions did not always seem possible (e.g. due to conditions upon release from forvaring or financial issues), they clearly indicate that the men would prefer to avoid being recognized as someone who has several CSO convictions. This indicates that preventive telling has a high cost. In the words of Isak, “Well, to put it this way, if it doesn’t have to be said, I’m not going to say anything.”
According to the MLT framework, neither the withdrawal nor secrecy strategy involves disclosing one's stigmatized label (Link et al., 1989). However, the withdrawal strategy involves limiting contact with others to lower the risk of involuntary disclosure. In this regard, the men recognized that keeping others at a distance could increase the chances of their past remaining a secret while at the same time lowering the personal costs it would have for them if (or when) “things start coming out.” Jens explained it thus: I guess I might be a bit scared of disappointment, y’know? That I’ll be rejected because of (my past). If I’ve managed to establish an okay contact, connection, or relationship (with someone), it might be ruined later, when things start coming out. And that might lead to a feeling that it's more tiring in the long run to try and establish new contacts. And maybe I should spare myself from that kind of disappointment.
The pros and cons of (dis)honesty
Most of the men considered honesty to be an important value, and they talked a lot about the challenges related to (re)gaining people's trust (see also Evans and Cubellis, 2015). However, as William said, “Too much honesty isn’t good.” He then explained how each relationship may require a separate cost–benefit analysis: It's about finding that balance in practice from time to time. Because I have to be open. And to put it simply, I have to be open with old friends in one way, I have to be open with new friends or employers in a different way, and I have to be open with a new partner in another way. Bringing up the fact that I’ve done this and that it's a part of me early on will make it easier if it's someone with whom I have a chance to have a genuine, good, long-term relationship. Because clearly there's a difference between lying and not telling, but if you start out by lying and covering things up, it's difficult to have a good relationship. At the same time, if you open up too much too soon, that will also [trails off] …. So it's that damned in-between thing again. (I)f things become very serious (romantically), I guess I need to say something about it at some point, maybe. Because if it comes up seven years later, I guess that it could be perceived as a bit dishonest.
What ultimately seemed to separate situations where it “must be said” from those in which the individual could abstain from disclosure was the perceived importance of the relationship. Importance was established from what was at stake—often connected to what the men considered essential to having a good life. Adrian followed up on his above quote by saying that “the alternative is to only have short relationships, and that's not tempting either.” Thus, from his cost–benefit analysis, he concluded that when dishonesty could have consequences in terms of a valuable loss, if it was to come out seven years later, he should attempt to disclose to prevent this loss. Preventive telling thus appeared as a means to gain control in otherwise unpredictable situations where much is at stake (Ricciardelli and Mooney, 2018). However, many men emphasized how “it will be very difficult to know when to tell them, how much you should tell them, and how you should tell them” (William). The next theme addresses this concrete challenge.
Lack of a formula for preventive telling
The men perceived when and how to tell about one's background as conundrums. Many vividly referred to hypothetical conversations when they spoke of future disclosures, revealing that this was a quite urgent and unsettled matter: I have to find out when to address it, because I’m thinking that it's not something you say on the first date: ‘Hi, my name is Adrian, and I’m a sex offender.’… So when you’re supposed to say it, I simply don’t know. … It's one of those things I’ve been very nervous about, really. … And I can’t see any comfortable solutions. … You can’t write it on your Tinder profile, y’know. (Adrian) And the question is when you should say it, how you should say it, y’know, because it's not exactly an easy topic to … yeah, how. Especially, that's the worst one, because you can’t just say, ‘Well, listen, I’m gonna tell you a little bit about my past.’ (Mikael) (I)t's not like we didn’t know that (offending) was wrong. And it's not like we didn’t know that it was both a risk and a mistake, to put it simply. But it's going to be really difficult to explain to a third party how something like that could happen. … You don’t know what sort of response you’ll get, and you don’t know what kind of, um …. Most of the time, we don’t really know ourselves either. It's hard to say why things happened, and then when you’re supposed to explain something, and not try and justify it or downplay it, but portray it as: ‘I was in a difficult place in life and things happened. It was and is horrible, and I know it.’… I feel that it's very important to get across the fact that I in no way want to downplay or justify what I did. At the same time, I kind of have to explain why it happened, and how it could happen. (William)
Adapting to the Status Quo: Preventive behavior
Several men expressed that presenting and acting in certain ways were part of their future stigma management strategy. Particularly, many highlighted how they would need to “tone themselves down,” “walk quietly,” or “not step on people's toes” (see also Sandbukt, 2021). They would attempt to demonstrate that they were not a threat and avoid drawing unnecessary attention to themselves: You have to consider where you’ll settle down. And then you have to take it from there. At the same time, it's about how you behave, y’know, in the community when you get out. Before (I went to prison), I might have taken up a lot of space. Like, I’ve said what I think to people, but now, if I’m more toned down, maybe I’ll go a bit more under the radar. When I’m out in the community and not taking up so much space. (Robert) (Upon reentry) it's my job to demonstrate that ‘there's no danger.’ I think that's the most important thing: that I try to … well, to keep a low profile, y’know. (Richard)
However, this strategy was perhaps not simply about avoiding future stigmatization; it also entailed consideration of other people's well-being. The men made it clear that they did not want to be considered burdens. Several expressed that they would do what they could to reduce the possibility of misunderstandings or provoking anyone: If I go for a walk in the park and sit down next to a playground and look at the kids, then … without me necessarily thinking something wrong, I know that's the sort of thing that can lead to rumors and such. And then I need to be conscious that instead, I would rather go and sit down by the duck pond and look at the birds, for instance. (William) Coming out of prison after five or six years is not easy. … I have to begin learning to trust people and that they can trust me, and that's not that simple. … And what about situations where I would need to have close contact with children, y’know? Like, if the child was hurt or whatever, and I needed to help them immediately. Then I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings to occur. (Petter)
Concluding discussion
This study explored anticipated stigma and the negotiation of future stigma management strategies among 19 men repeatedly convicted of CSO. As a group, they expressed insight into how their “recidivist” status may lead to weakened trust and understanding from others. The overall findings demonstrate that while the men attempted to plan for future stigma management, carefully weighing the costs and benefits of different options, they were not able to arrive at a place where they felt truly optimistic or in control of their destinies. That is stigma anticipation continuously interfered with their ability to fully invest in a positive and reformed future story, or a redemption script (Maruna, 2001).
The men's overall cost–benefit analyses were largely based on pragmatism. Rather than focusing on what would be the best thing for them to do to support their continued desistance processes, the anticipation of stigma led them in a different direction. They realized that by applying strategies of secrecy and withdrawal, they might gain the benefit of averting stigma, yet the cost would be to tacitly accept the fact that close relationships may not be viable under such circumstances. To achieve a fulfilling life, they therefore concluded that they should come forward with their pasts in close and important relationships (e.g. to a potential partner). However, they did not know how to disclose their pasts, let alone how to engage in preventive telling. Seemingly, they did not have any familiar stories to draw on in their attempts to make meaning of their pasts, and certainly none that could help them craft a story that would make sense to others (McAdams, 2011; Sandberg, 2016; Sandbukt, 2024). Consequently, as preventive telling was not perceived as a feasible option, including in situations where it was considered the overall right option, the men might in practice be stuck between secrecy, withdrawal, and the strategy identified as preventive behavior when they eventually return to society. This scenario is not optimal in terms of desistance. Rather, the men's propensity to hold on to an unflattering label and simply adapt to stigma may block their identity change, redemption scripts, and most certainly a sense of belonging. The results from this study thus support the ideas proffered by MLT that individuals who feel threatened by stigma may attempt to manage their positions in ways that may limit their life opportunities (Link et al., 1989). Arguably, as social withdrawal can impede social reintegration and increase recidivism risk for some, it would benefit society as well as individuals convicted of CSO for preventive telling to become a realistic option for stigma management.
Link et al. (1989) originally referred to preventive telling as “education,” highlighting the stigmatized individual's “hopes of enlightening [others] so as to ward off negative attitudes” and his attempt at “changing others’ views” (p. 403). This task is largely associated with proving stereotypical perceptions wrong. The fact that the men in this study perceived preventive telling as so difficult may be a result of realizing that they were not in a good position to do so. While individuals convicted of general crime are most often referred to as “ex-cons” after their release, implying that the criminal behavior was in the past, those convicted of CSO continue to be referred to as “sex offenders,” suggesting that their behavior is ongoing (Tovey et al., 2022; Winnick and Bodkin, 2008). By its nature, sexual recidivism cannot be written off as a one-time event; rather, it serves to confirm stereotypical perceptions (Sandbukt, 2024). Thus, while the stickiness of the “sex offender” label was well-known to the men (see, e.g. Kruse and Skilbrei, 2024), having sexually recidivated was perceived as super glue, making already poor matters worse. Tovey et al. (2022) discussed how tension between how men convicted of sexual offenses seeking employment view themselves and how they are perceived by others relates to the golem effect (low expectations causing low outcomes). The results from the current study can be interpreted in a similar manner. It is difficult to tell a story that reveals failure and a stained identity, especially when it has an ending—or a deeper meaning, “evaluation,” or “coda” (Labov, 1972)—that one assumes no one will believe. Thus, when this is the perceived reality, it may be easier to refrain from trying, despite being well aware that it might not be the “right” thing to do and that the outcome might not be optimal.
The men's lack of a formula for preventive telling can also be interpreted as a result of the total absence of stories to draw on when explaining or interpreting stories of sexual (re)offending. Although men convicted of CSO should undoubtedly be held accountable for their pasts as well as their futures, it rests upon the general public to allow for constructive stories to evolve and be shared. Currently, despite low recidivism rates, stories about individuals who have been to prison for CSO and then went on to live law-abiding lives are notably absent in the public discourse. The stories that most people hear about individuals convicted of CSO are not representative, and the focus on high-profile sensational cases in the media serves to perpetuate stereotypical misperceptions (Zatkin et al., 2021). Maruna (2017) discussed how society “lacks words” in relation to desistance from sexual offending (see also Kruse, 2020). Moreover, Sandbukt (2024) suggested that the “acceptable” explanation for sexual recidivism might be nonexistent. This highlights a need to develop a language for desistance from CSO that enables preventive telling. Public education and dissemination of stories about those who manage to turn their lives around may be useful tools. When stories become familiar, they also become possible to draw on—either when narrating (and rewriting) one's own story or when encountering someone else's (McAdams, 2011). In this regard, those convicted of CSO (and sexual offending in general) might also benefit from concrete practice related to future stigma management and preventive telling while incarcerated. This may be achieved through role play or group discussions in a safe, therapeutic environment. Ultimately, individuals (repeatedly) convicted of CSO need assistance in the process of rewriting their stories and to practice telling them while receiving feedback. The fact that the men in this study demonstrated that they had learned from experience and wanted to do things differently must be considered a promising finding. If preventive telling becomes a realistic option, they might use these lessons in ways that benefit society and be in a better position to develop redemption scripts.
Footnotes
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the men who participated in this study. I would also like to thank correctional staff who assisted me in the recruitment process.
Consent to participate
All participants gave written informed consent before starting interviews.
Data availability statement
The interview data generated and analyzed during the current study is not publicly available due to confidentiality issues and lack of consent from participants to share raw data outside the research group.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Ethical considerations
The study was approved by the data protection officer (Personvernombudet) at Oslo University Hospital on March 2, 2021 (Approval No. 21/03881). The collection of data in the relevant prison units was approved by the Norwegian Correctional Service (Kriminalomsorgen) on September 28, 2021 (Reference No. 202100739-83).
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Correction (July 2025):
In the published version of the article, the last three sentences in paragraph 1 of the Methodology section were published with incomplete details. The text has now been corrected to “The study was approved by the Data Protection Officer at Oslo University Hospital and the relevant correctional agencies. Recruitment and data collection processes are described in more detail elsewhere (Sandbukt, 2024).” The article has been updated online to reflect this change.