Dee Ann Newell,
"Childbirth in an American Prison"
(page 4 of 4)
This description of feeling distant from their prison-born babies is
repeated by other mothers with whom I have been in touch after their
release. They request professional support to cope with the guilt,
shame, and memory of having had the child while imprisoned, and the
added trauma of being under shackles and restraints.
In May 2006, having served parents in our state prisons and community
correction therapeutic units since 1993, I received a call from the
chairman of the Department of Correction. It was an intimidating voice
on the phone, a stranger's voice. He chastised me for speaking to the
press in 2004 and 2006 about the Department's use of restraints during
childbirth. He informed me that I had "disrespected" the department, and
I have never since been permitted to return to their prisons. Both
the parenting and the prenatal/post-partum classes came to
abrupt end.
Currently, there are seven states that outlaw the use of restraints
during incarcerated childbirth: California, Illinois, New Mexico, New
York, Texas, Vermont, and Washington. A national coalition to support
policies protecting pregnant and birthing mothers who are incarcerated
is rapidly developing. Our shared mission is the education of
policymakers. Hopefully, this will lead to the swift enactment of
statutes universally prohibiting the use of restraints during childbirth
while incarcerated. Laws are the only effective way to insure that all
incarcerated mothers and their babies will be allowed safe and dignified
childbirth.
In the summer of 2007, the Federal Bureau of Prisons, in cooperation
with U.S. Senator Durbin of Illinois, reconsidered their policies about
restraints during pregnancy and childbirth, intending to make their use
the exception rather than the rule.
In an initial effort to reform the practice in Arkansas, I brought more
than a thousand letters from national organizations decrying the
practices of restraints and shackling of incarcerated pregnant and child
birthing mothers to a legislative committee hearing in 2005. But
legislators who had agreed to support my position and hear testimony
from mothers who gave birth in prison, national experts, and me, a
first-hand witness, rolled over when the Arkansas Department of
Correction showed them the substitute, non-metal, soft restraints they
agreed to use in place of iron shackles and handcuffs. In 2007, the same
committee members deferred to the Department of Corrections to set
policy, in the interest of "public safety." The bill died in
committee.
In 2009, with the sponsorship of a strong senior
legislator and the support of the Arkansas ACLU, we went back once more
with a bill banning the use of restraints during medical transport,
labor and childbirth, not only in our Department of Corrections
facilities, but in our jails and juvenile detention centers. We also had
the support of the Family Council, an evangelical group that has great
influence on the religious right in the state legislature, an unlikely
partnership between the conservatives and the ACLU. At the hearing, a
conservative woman legislator asked the director of our Department of
Corrections in all seriousness if it was true that women prisoners often
tried to "kill" their babies during delivery. Can we demonize our
prisoners any further than what was implied by this question? Not
surprisingly, the bill failed again.
Needless to say, we will return again in the 2011 legislative
session, and again and again until these inhumane practices are banned.
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