In May 2026, CDCr updated its rules for Restricted Housing Units (RHUs), more commonly known as Solitary Confinement: the isolated housing areas within California prisons where people are separated from the general population and face cruel and unusual punishment and torture. CDCr claims that the 2023 reforms drove the increase of violence and drug use, but their analysis fails to consider confounding variables. According to many victims and survivors of solitary confinement, CDCr has manufactured violence within prison to justify the expansion of solitary confinement.
According to Prisoners Human Rights Movement’s analysis, this proposal authorizes an indeterminate term in restrictive housing with no disciplinary finding, no conviction for serious misconduct, and no transparent evidentiary standard. In fact, this proposed RHU is materially worse than the SHU conditions that the Ashker settlement remediated. Incarcerated people placed in Administrative RHU under this new framework face:
- Elimination of minimum canteen draw for basic food and hygiene products
- Removal of television and most personal property
- No defined release pathway absent an ICC reversal (The Institution Classification Committee (“ICC”) reviews the placement of incarcerated folks every 180 days. If the ICC determines that an individual no longer faces a threat to his safety, it refers the inmate to the Departmental Review Board (“DRB”) for review.)
- Validation criteria that include non-behavioral factors such as: books, artwork, political study, cultural observances
This new rule is terrifying and will result in a drastic increase of people into restricted housing without any due process, independent oversight, grievance process, or relief from torture and continued harm. The 2015 solitary confinement reforms were successful because of a 60 day hunger strike, courageous litigation, and an outpouring of support from community members and concerned advocates across California and across the country. We must reignite this public opposition to solitary confinement.
Dr. Tanisha Cannon, LSPC’s Managing Director, emphasized, “We talking about the right to food, access to sunlight, sleep deprivation, education: human rights. We’re talking about access to due process. Without access to education and vocational training, how does one rehabilitate?”
These regulations, if made permanent, would roll back all of the reforms made after the Ashker v. Newsom settlement, which ended long-term solitary confinement in California state prisons.
The American Civil Liberties Union explains:
When Ashker was filed as a class action suit in 2012, thousands of people languished in prolonged solitary confinement in Security Housing Units (SHU) in the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR). At Pelican Bay State Prison alone, more than 500 people had been held in the SHU for over 10 years, and 78 people had been there for more than 20 years. They were warehoused in cramped, windowless concrete cells for almost 24 hours a day with no phone calls, infrequent visits through plexiglass preventing physical contact, meager rehabilitative opportunities, and no opportunity for normal social interaction with other prisoners. Their indefinite and prolonged confinement in this torturous isolation was based not on any actual misconduct but on vague and tenuous allegations of affiliation with a gang. People were routinely placed in prolonged solitary confinement for simply appearing on a list of gang members found in another prisoner’s cell, or possessing allegedly gang-related artwork and tattoos.
On July 8, CDCr held a public hearing about the proposed regulations. We showed up in force, sharing our strong opposition to these regulations.
Impacted individuals shared their own stories, and we read testimonies from people who are still inside and in RHU. Read the testimonies below:
Nadine Garcia
From 2012 to 2014, I was housed in the Secure Housing Unit (SHU), where I spent nearly my entire term. The conditions were extremely difficult. During the summer, the heat was unbearable, and staff often refused to provide ice water. Medical emergencies were not always treated with urgency, even when people collapsed in their cells. Access to canteen was inconsistent and depended entirely on whether correctional officers chose to distribute it. Yard time was also unpredictable, as officers could simply decide not to escort us.
One of the most painful experiences occurred when my mother underwent a life-threatening surgery. Despite my sister following every proper procedure to notify the institution, I was denied a phone call. It was only after I was placed on mental health status that I was finally allowed to speak with my family. At that time, there were no tablets or electronic means of communication—only letters, which made staying connected during family emergencies nearly impossible.
Because of my experience, I strongly believe CDCR should continue allowing individuals in restricted housing access to tablets, canteen, packages, educational programming, and communication with their families. Tablets provide opportunities for continued education, rehabilitation, and family reunification, all of which are essential to successful rehabilitation. Access to canteen and packages also ensures people can obtain adequate food and basic necessities that are not otherwise available.
The SHU was already an isolating and degrading environment. The units were dirty, showers were poorly maintained, and five-minute shower limits often left little time to bathe. Additional restrictions, such as taking away communication or basic privileges, do not promote rehabilitation—they only deepen the harm of isolation. My experience showed me how damaging these conditions can be, which is why I believe CDCR should continue expanding opportunities for rehabilitation, education, and family connection for people housed in restricted settings rather than imposing additional hardships.
Jaime Burkett
I was housed in restricted housing on three separate occasions, and each experience was incredibly difficult. The first two times occurred before tablets and guaranteed phone calls were available, making the isolation even more severe. Being locked in a cell for 23 hours a day with little to no meaningful human interaction takes a tremendous toll on your mental health. You spend your days surrounded by constant yelling and screaming, while staff conduct metal-on-metal security checks every 15 minutes, day and night, making it nearly impossible to rest or find peace. It truly feels like being locked away in a dungeon.
Access to phones and tablets is essential for people in restricted housing. Communication with family is often the only source of hope and emotional support for someone isolated from the world. The educational and learning applications on the tablets helped keep my mind occupied, focused on positive goals, and committed to rehabilitation. Without those resources, the emptiness and loneliness become overwhelming. People in restricted housing often feel invisible, and their voices frequently go unheard. There were times I could get basic necessities from nursing staff more easily than from correctional officers.
Access to canteen and quarterly packages is equally important. The meals provided in Administrative Segregation are often inadequate, with people receiving leftovers, repeated vegetables, or missing items from their trays. It is extremely difficult to maintain proper nutrition on state-issued meals alone. Canteen and packages help fill those gaps and provide a small sense of dignity and normalcy.
As a member of the LGBTQ+ community who presents in a more masculine way, I absolutely felt that I was treated differently and, at times, unfairly. There were occasions when I waited two days for toilet paper or feminine hygiene products, and there were times when my scheduled shower or recreation time was simply not provided. These experiences reinforced the feeling that basic needs and concerns could be ignored without consequence.
My experiences in restricted housing convinced me that access to communication, educational programming, canteen, packages, and basic necessities are not luxuries—they are essential to preserving mental health, dignity, and hope. Reducing these opportunities will not improve safety or rehabilitation. It will only deepen isolation and increase despair among people who are already living under some of the most restrictive conditions in the prison system.
Amy Preasmyer
To be in ad-seg is to be removed from society and anything healing, educational, motivational, or even mentally sound and stable.
It is so important to reach out to loved ones for support and encouragement. Without human connection, we drive ourselves insane.
23 hours without space, air, or opportunity is the definition of insane: doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. So how is one to change when you lock them up and throw away the key with no plan, no course of action for change and rehabilitation? So what are we really teaching?
Every warden knows the food services department is not up to par. The trays lack nutritional value and the correct servings one is expected to receive no matter how many complaints and meetings raising the issue. You are locked in there starving and if you decide to work out (because that’s all you can do inside a cell), then you burn even more calories doing that. If you have ever experienced hunger then you know what they are experiencing every day for months, maybe years.
Anonymous
Being housed in restricted housing strips you of nearly everything. You’re separated from your support system, isolated from your prison community, uncertain about your future, and often unable to communicate with your family. I was scared because I didn’t know whether I would face criminal charges, how long the investigation would take, or when I would be released. The shame and uncertainty alone were overwhelming.
What kept me going were the new RHU regulations. I had access to daily mental health check-ins, therapeutic groups, limited yard time, canteen, packages, and a tablet. Even though canteen was limited to $75, it gave me something to look forward to. My tablet allowed me to continue my Edovo classes, earn credits off my sentence, and stay focused on something positive. I only had one 15-minute phone call each week, but even that gave me hope. I believe people in restricted housing should have even greater access to phone calls and always be able to use email on their tablets to stay connected with their families.
Life in restricted housing is already punitive. Every movement is in handcuffs—to the shower, yard, dayroom, and groups. Visits take place through a cage, and strip searches are constant. Taking away the few programs, incentives, and connections people have will not make institutions safer or encourage rehabilitation. It will only increase hopelessness, depression, violence, and suicide attempts.
Access to adequate food is equally important. Many people already go to bed hungry because the meal trays are not enough. Hunger, isolation, and a lack of meaningful programming only create more frustration and violence, not rehabilitation. Conditions in both CIW and CCWF are already extremely difficult, with many people feeling cold, hungry, and ignored when they ask staff for help.
I was fortunate to make it out of restricted housing and return to my programs. Today, I mentor women who are still there, and I see firsthand how isolation has broken their spirits. I try to encourage them not to give up, but many have lost hope.
If these regulations are rolled back and programming, communication, food, and rehabilitative opportunities are reduced, I fear we will see even greater rates of depression, self-harm, and violence. People in restricted housing need support, programming, and hope—not additional punishment.
DV
I’m not sure how to describe it in words… Being in a room 24 hours a day, day and night alone with just your thoughts, while everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs. Yes, I mean screaming, cuz that’s what it is. They are all trying to talk, cuss each other out or cuss the cops out, the nurse, someone anyone. The only time it’s quiet there is maybe in the morning.
Trays come, things start moving, meds come, trash, they call for yard at 6:30 am just to piss people off and if you’re not up to sign up you won’t be going. It’s all crazy. You will sink down to the lowest part of you if you’re not strong in your own mind. I have seen people lose it and need OUT and all they do is put them in a cage smaller than the room but there are holes. Is it a trick on your mind to make you think you are in a better place than a closed room?
That depends on the person. For some it works: they stay there for hours or make them stay there for hours with no chair just standing in a cage to make you think. Think some more! Think about never disrupting the flow of ad-seg. The COs don’t want to be bothered, that’s for sure… Even writing this has brought up some feelings I haven’t dealt with. I believe they can and should do better. Not everybody back there is on discipline. Even if they were, do they have to be mentally tortured? How is that helping? What can they do for mental stability?
TJ
Having our canteen taken away from us, it’s inhumane. We aren’t getting properly fed by the state, the portions on the food tray aren’t nearly enough nutrition or to hold us off until the next meal. Myself and my peers take medication that requires us to take with food. So if we aren’t even able to have enough to eat to be satisfied or not hungry, how are we supposed to make it through the night?
As for mental health, I have been housed in RHU for the past 4 months and have been to suicide watch 4 times. Not having access to the proper necessities is causing a major decline with my mental health. Not being able to call home and speak to my family on the regular is challenging. One day the phones are available, the next they aren’t.
So being beyond restricted to the things that are needed is just adding more to my mental health issues. I’m more agitated, I’m more hungry, I’m feeling alone and neglected. Honestly, it’s making us a lot more irritated. The new “rules” are causing a lot more mental health problems. Battling with severe traumatic issues here, and at home already. Now having to be hungry doing it is very upsetting .
My experience back here these 4 months has been HARD!! Mental health continues giving meds, not really concerned about how our mental health is going back here. It’s being said that the reason things are changing is due to the behavior back here, which is not accurate at all. They have been taking things away from us long before we have started acting out. All the acting out is a chain reaction to being overly penalized and restricted to bare necessities. It’s continuing to cause a strain on my mental health. It’s as if the staff can provoke us, but once we respond, we’re being physically harmed and abused.
MD
When I was in ASU and then later on SHU, I felt isolated and as if I had been thrown away. On the logical level, I knew my placement was the punitive result of the choices I had made. However, in SHU the environment is designed to be strictly a punishment. Meaningful programming is non-existent. Mental Health Services are also limited. There was no intervention to promote rehabilitation, just punishment.
Having access to a tablet and phone can literally be life saving. Administrative segregation is meant to be a deterrent but does not offer alternatives or tools to those housed there to make changes. Having a tablet kept my mental health stable. As someone who suffers from anxiety and depression, it is easy to get lost in ruminations. What other message could I internalize other than I was bad and deserved nothing? At that time, the only coping skill I had was interruption which the tablet provided.
Being in a cell 23 hours a day is tough mentally. You are isolated and have no meaningful or healthy connections. You are at the mercy of the unit officers and lets keep it real, most do not want to be bothered. You can go out to the yard but is being stripped searched each time worth it? Not at all! Prisons are filled with people who were living in poverty prior to committing their crime. Using food as a means of punishment is inhumane. The food provided by CDCr is small in portion and the quality is not nutritious. The message we send to people in RHU is that you are so bad, you do not even deserve to have food.
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