“Nothing less than a death penalty by social deprivation” is how Stephanie Cacioppo, Assistant Professor of Psychiatry and Behavioral Neuroscience at the University of Chicago, describes solitary confinement. And that is indeed what it was like for Kalief Browder, who endured two of his three years on Rikers Island in solitary, beginning at the age of 16. His alleged crime (of which he maintained his innocence and was never convicted)? Stealing a backpack.

During his 700 days in solitary confinement, Browder attempted to end his life several times. After his release, he struggled to acclimate and readjust. Even when he seemed to catch his stride, taking classes at Bronx Community College, the unfathomable toll solitary confinement had taken on his psyche was irreversible. On June 6th, 2015, Kalief Browder died by suicide—illuminating the reality that, even after a person’s release, the psychological torment that takes hold during solitary confinement often never lets go.

Browder was far from an exception. Fifty percent of prison suicides are carried out by individuals in solitary confinement. This disturbing statistic begs the question: When a criminal “justice” policy drives half of those subject to it to end their lives, what purpose is it serving? Whose safety is it ensuring?

Activism Offers Glimmers of Hope

National campaigns like Unlock the Box—whose primary goal is to end solitary confinement—work with solitary survivors, family members, legislators, and advocates to shift the national conversation and hold policymakers and corrections leaders accountable for the human rights crisis at hand. Louisiana just passed Act 496 into law, eliminating the use of youth solitary confinement beyond a 24-hour period. Prior, solitary confinement was used as a means to “manage normal behavioral issues, drug abuse, and mental health disorders.” With Act 496 in place, solitary confinement can only be used in “cases where there is an extreme threat to life.” The California Mandela Act was set to ban the use of long-term solitary confinement and completely prohibit it for people who are pregnant, disabled, and under the age of 25 or over 65. Unfortunately, Governor Newsome vetoed the bill on September 30th, citing “safety concerns,” a myth proven to be false time and time again. We must push back on claims such as these, especially when they are used to strike down progress against cruelty or advance legislation that perpetuates harm.

Reworking these systems will require imagination. Fortunately, many people have been imagining and organizing for decades—everyone just needs to listen. While the grantee partners listed above are leaders in the field, they are only a fraction of the movement. Incarcerated people have been advocating on their own behalf, even behind bars. Their voices, stories, and grassroots organizing laid the foundation for the solutions we see today. Johnny Perez, Director of US Prison Programs at NRCAT, said it best: “People are the experts of their own lives.” He reminds us that ‘‘when you see an ineffective policy, it’s usually because the voices of the most harmed are not being centered.” Those directly impacted by policies need to be on the frontlines of constructing those policies, or else policy gaps will go unnoticed.

As funders, it is time we amplify those on the frontlines by investing in the solutions they are creating, solutions that honor our collective humanity and divest from the harmful carceral state.

Read the full article about ending solitary confinement by Andrea Fionda and Scott Moyer at Nonprofit Quarterly.