Black Women Throw Lifeline to Their Sisters : Nashville program recruits recovering addicts to help those still mired in drug abuse at public housing projects.

Belting out songs in a popular downtown jazz club, Regina McCrary-Bond is the embodiment of sassy confidence and glamour.

No one would guess the depths from which she had climbed to get there. Seven years ago McCrary-Bond, the daughter of a Baptist preacher, a former backup singer to Bob Dylan, a woman of early bright musical promise, had hit rock bottom.

After five years of touring with a music legend, she couldn’t find work when she came home to Nashville to care for her young son. Depressed and dejected, she was sucked into a degrading spiral of crack addiction that siphoned her self-esteem, ransacked her savings and left her at the brink of suicide.

“I found myself losing all my morals,” she said. “Things that people say they wouldn’t do for money and drugs, I found myself doing it. I realized that I was like in hell.”

Except for the relative height from which she fell, McCrary-Bond’s story is a common one--especially in public housing developments where, social workers say, women are falling prey to drug addiction in ever higher numbers.

But an innovative program is helping to stop the dangerous trend.

Started in 1991 at the Meharry Medical College Community Mental Health Center by drug counselors frustrated over their lack of success in treating drug-addicted black women, the federally funded SISTER program has spawned imitators in several cities.

“We would see white men coming to treatment, black men coming to treatment, white women coming for treatment, but very few black women coming to treatment,” said program director Darlene Fowler, who was director of Meharry’s residential rehabilitation unit.

SISTER targets black female public housing residents by using as counselors women who share their background and culture. Operating in seven Nashville housing developments, the program pairs counselors with recovering addicts. SISTER stands for Supportive Intensive System of Treatment, Empowerment and Recovery.

After a staggering series of emotional blows that drove home how pitifully bleak her life had become--including being raped at gunpoint by her drug dealer--McCrary-Bond gave up drugs seven years ago. Now she’s a SISTER counselor.

“I feel like God allowed me to go through everything I went through so that I can share that story and help somebody else,” she said. She plans an album of songs inspired by the addiction and recovery experience.

More than 200 women have been admitted to SISTER, which claims that 60% remain in the program. Considering that its clients are poor, unskilled women who often lack support from family and friends, this is a good retention rate, Fowler said. Women who drop out are pursued relentlessly.

The program has made a “marked difference as far as the saving of lives,” said Michael Woods, manager of a housing development where the program operates.

On Fridays--outreach day--SISTER counselors in bright pink T-shirts and jackets blanket drab public housing projects with leaflets.

“We want to be visible and plant the seeds,” she said. The women come to realize that “we’re not (the housing authority) trying to kick them out, we’re not . . . trying to take their kids away from them and we’re not the police trying to arrest them. What we want to do is make ourselves visible so they’ll know that we are there to help them.”

SISTER clients get together for holiday meals, slumber parties, breakfasts or just to watch videos. They also come to depend on each other emotionally.

Brenda Burleson came to SISTER three years ago when her drug habit got out of control. She began stealing, neglecting her children and trading her food stamps for drugs. The turning point came when her boyfriend issued an ultimatum: She could lose drugs or lose him.

Burleson turned to the manager of her public housing development for help, and he referred her to SISTER. Now she’s a counselor.

The program provides free transportation and baby-sitting services to clients so that they can go to counseling sessions and doctor appointments.

SISTER now is trying to help the women find jobs with training to improve interviewing and work skills. Edith Langster, a city councilwoman and a SISTER counselor, is talking to area businesses about hiring women who have gone through the program.