California is often hailed as a leader amongst states on progressive issues, particularly those related to women’s rights. Yet California is now on the verge of passing a law that facilitates placing pregnant women in solitary confinement. As someone who experienced the dehumanizing and degrading effects of being placed in solitary confinement while pregnant, I feel compelled to speak up and speak out.

I was arrested when I was six months pregnant, and placed into solitary confinement. When I was taken to court my arms were shackled to my waist, despite the fact that I was pregnant. When I gave birth I was handcuffed to the hospital bed, and treated like I was less than human. Giving birth can be one of the most beautiful and sacred experiences a person can have, yet for me it became a dark and degrading experience because of how I was treated.

Across the world, in all different countries and cultures, pregnant women are viewed as a symbol of life, and are cared for, accommodated, honored and respected. Yet in California jails and prisons, placing them in isolation is somehow viewed as acceptable. California has no law on the books that prevent pregnant women from being placed in solitary confinement, a practice that most of the enlightened world views as a form of torture.

What is perhaps most shocking to learn, is that attempts to legislate protections for pregnant women have not only been undermined, but they have been transformed from a ban on placing pregnant women in solitary confinement, to legislation that facilitates this placement for up to five days, with no medical or third party oversight.

I am referring to AB 2527, a bill by Asm. Bauer-Kahan that started out as a blanket ban on the use of solitary confinement for pregnant women in jails and prisons. Speaking about the bill, Asm. Bauer-Kahan was quoted as saying: “To be pregnant, to remain healthy, I really, truly believe that restrictive housing shouldn’t be a part of the equation.”

Just days later, Bauer-Kahan accepted amendments by correctional authorities that fundamentally altered the bill from ending solitary confinement for pregnant women in jails and prisons, to empowering CDCR to place pregnant women in solitary for up to five days based on when there is a security concern.

To be clear, the legislature is proposing solitary confinement if a pregnant woman, and an unborn child, is facing a security concern. They are not providing a safe alternative to solitary, such as a trauma informed unit that can house a pregnant woman individually, but provide them with guaranteed time out of cell, and access to medical care and programming. Instead the proposed legislation places complete power in the hands of CDCR, without even requiring the development of a medical plan, or a cumulative limit to how many five day stretches of isolation can occur in a particular period.

The bill also completely eliminated all protection to pregnant women in county jails, so it would not have applied to me. Based on available information, instead the supposed “protections” of AB 2527 would apply to seven people in the entire state of California.

These amendments all took place during a period where the legislature quietly prevented the California Mandela Act from being sent to the desk of Governor Newsom. The Mandela Act twice received broad support in the legislature, and included a provision that would completely eliminate the use of solitary confinement for pregnant women in jails, prison and private detention facilities.

Now California appears to be moving backwards on this issue. Why? Apparently to send a bill that purports to care about pregnant women to Governor Newsom’s desk, in order for him to turn them into a tool to undermine real conversations for change.

This past week, I attended the military graduation of my son, who was born while I was in solitary confinement. Since my incarceration I have started a successful business, become an advocate, and am in the process of finishing my college degree. I am proud to reflect on my own resilience through the face of adversity, and honor my the strength that both my son and I have as survivors of solitary confinement. This reflection also includes a commitment to prevent what happened to me from ever happening to anyone else in California.

Cynthia Mendoza is a formerly incarcerated advocate and solitary survivor and is currently completing her education at California State University, Los Angeles