Censorship in CCWF
The reality for CCWF Paper Trail
When San Quentin News was first started back in 1940, Warden Clinton T. Duffy stated that the purpose of the prison publication was to stop the rumor mill and let the incarcerated population tell their own stories. When CCWF Paper Trail began a little over a year ago, Central California Women’s Facility (CCWF) Warden Anissa De La Cruz had a similar vision; she intended the women to have a voice and lead their own paper. CCWF Paper Trail leadership made this vision our own by “amplifying voices and empowering choices” — as our tagline states.
We amplify voices by highlighting stories of individuals who have been marginalized, as well as issues that have not been widely reported out of a women’s facility. We empower choices by not simply describing problems but by identifying solutions for obstacles we face.
Lately, the editorial board has been hearing rumors that CCWF Paper Trail is being censored. Some of these comments come from abolitionist entities and criminal justice reform organizations, who seem hungry for stories that are more aligned with their agendas, than the ones this editorial board deems necessary and relevant for our inside community.
Censorship is a severe accusation to make about something that you don’t agree with. In fact, according to Encyclopedia Britannica, censorship is “the changing or the suppression or prohibition of speech or writing that is deemed subversive of the common good.” CCWF Paper Trail has yet to experience any form of censorship anywhere near this definition.
Of course, there are legitimate concerns when administrations allow prison newspapers to operate within their facilities. They assume a tremendous amount of liability. After all, prison journalists are able to report on matters occurring within the facility, some of which may not be flattering to the prison or its administrators. However, administrations also benefit from the accountability, transparency and community building that prison publications promote.
CCWF Paper Trail, just like any other approved incarcerated-run newspaper in the state of California, goes through a review process prior to being printed. The review process is focused on fact-checking and screening for information that might jeopardize someone’s freedom, the safety and security of the institution, or pose an unnecessary legal liability for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.
If we are bound in our manner of writing, it is by our journalistic principles. Early on, we learned that, as journalists, we have a duty to fairly and accurately report on issues we choose to write about. Some of the articles we have written have been controversial, some have been fun, some have been thought-provoking, and –most important – all have been true even if they weren’t what some of our advocates would like to see.
For those wondering why a group of incarcerated women, transmen and transwomen prioritize stories of hope, inclusion and on our conditions of confinement, it is because we did not have a platform before, and now we get to choose.
Some of the issues we have chosen to cover pertain to the sexual abuse perpetrated by former correctional officer Gregory Rodriguez, complaints regarding the lack of food being served, the use of suboxone by incarcerated people and how some CCWF residents choose to address trauma. The prison administration allowed us to address these issues so long as we did proper fact-finding and we gave the women a voice, which was Warden De La Cruz’s vision.
If you have a question or comment about our process, or story ideas, we welcome readers to submit a letter to the editor (directions to the right). We’d be happy to consider them. Our guiding principles, outlined on our masthead, reflect the values the CCWF Paper Trail editorial board deems relevant and important. Telling our own stories is what we do at CCWF Paper Trail, and we do this unapologetically.
When They Call It Censorship, I Call It Legitimacy
Franz Kafka once wrote of Gregor Samsa, a man transformed into an insect,
whose voice became incomprehensible to those around him. Incarcerated people
often share Gregor’s fate: their words dismissed, their humanity obscured.
Yet when a prison newspaper like Paper Trail is accused of censorship, I see
something different — recognition that its voice matters.
From San Quentin News in 1940 to CCWF’s Paper Trail today, prison publications
exist to stop rumor mills and let incarcerated people tell their own stories.
The Paper Trail board emphasizes fact‑checking, fairness, and relevance to the
inside community. They report on sexual abuse, food shortages, trauma, and
inclusion — issues that matter most to those living them.
Reform groups claim the paper is censored because its stories don’t align with
their agendas. But censorship, properly defined, is suppression by authority.
What’s happening here is editorial independence. Outside organizations wouldn’t
fight for influence if they didn’t see Paper Trail as legitimate. Their hunger
to shape its content proves the paper has power.
Prison journalism is fragile, operating under review processes and liability
concerns. Yet it thrives when it balances accountability with hope, giving
incarcerated people the dignity of choice in what stories to tell.
In Kafka’s world, Gregor’s voice was lost. In ours, Paper Trail ensures
incarcerated voices are heard. The debate over censorship is not a sign of
weakness but of strength. It means the paper has become a platform worth
contesting — and that is the highest compliment a prison publication can
receive.