Our Story
Our Story
Born from a Radical Question
What if people with mental health challenges were treated humanely and trusted with their own recovery?
In 1997, Madison’s mental health system was stretched thin. People were being discharged from major state institutions such as Mendota and Winnebago Mental Health Institutes after five, ten, or even twenty years. Instead of being provided with real support, they were placed in hotel rooms, paid for by the county, with little more than hope holding them together. Daily medication deliveries didn’t exist. Stable housing was rare. And young Black men in Dane County were being locked up instead of cared for—making up just 4% of the county’s population, but 80% of the jail population. Families and communities carried the weight of the systems that punished people instead of healing them.
In the midst of these systemic challenges, this is where SOAR began.
Jen's Visit
That year, Jen Koberstein, a community member and mental health advocate, asked if she could stop by one of the hotels where recently discharged men were living. What she found was both heartbreaking and inspiring. The system didn’t believe in recovery. It saw people as permanent patients, instead of human beings with futures. Jen knew there had to be another way—and she wasn’t alone.
Unapologetically Different
SOAR was created as a consumer-operated, nonprofit service provider for Dane County. From the start, our work was radically simple and radically human:
- Neighbors delivering meds. Instead of sending people back to the hospital, SOAR paid neighbors to deliver evening medications and check in, so people could remain at home.
- House hosts. The seeds of peer support were sown by a man who had once been imprisoned at Mendota. As a “house host” at SOAR, he mentored young men coming out of the same institution, showing them that life on the outside was possible.
- Showing up for justice. When an 18-year-old in psychosis was nearly jailed for jaywalking, SOAR intervened and convinced the authorities not to jail him.
- Responding in the streets. When police were called on Black men in crisis, SOAR showed up—not to escalate, but to witness, support, and protect.
From the beginning to now, lived experience has been the foundation for SOAR’s vision for radical care.
Speaking Truth to Power
SOAR quickly became known not only for services but also for advocacy. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Jen was a frequent voice on NPR and local radio, speaking out about racial disparities in Dane County’s jails and mental health systems. She testified in court on behalf of Black men incarcerated because of unmet mental health needs.
Our work was risky. The office of the District Attorney (DA) threatened to jail Jen for speaking out. But SOAR kept pushing, openly challenging the DA’s office, law enforcement, and the systems that insisted on punishment instead of care.
SOAR remained radical because the times demanded it.
A Radical Movement for Recovery
SOAR wasn’t only doing “street medicine” before it had a name—we were building a movement.
At the first International Recovery Conference in the late 1990s, SOAR helped bring together people receiving community support—people who heard voices and psychiatric survivors—and crisis professionals. For many, it was the first time they had been asked to listen to—and learn from—the very people they served.
Their resounding message was that people deserve to live their own lives, not the ones the systems had prescribed for them .
Then and Now
Over the decades, SOAR has evolved. In the mid-2000s, leadership changed, and some of SOAR’s radical edges softened. But our roots remain the same: community, justice, and the belief that recovery is real and self-defined.
Today, we continue to fight for what we believed back in 1997 that:
- People with lived experience are not just part of the solution—they are the solution.
- Historically marginalized communities deserve care, not cages.
- Everyone has the right to live, speak, and be exactly who they are—even if it’s “a little left of center.”
SOAR is still here because community care works. And our story continues to unfold.