The mammoth 85% decline in arrest rates of youths in California since 1995, along with the current coronavirus pandemic, have emptied California’s juvenile facilities. As of Aug. 8, just 2,800 people were incarcerated in state and local juvenile facilities, down from over 20,000 in 1995. As the state moves forward, we can continue spending vast amounts on incarceration and probation. Or, as outlined previously, California can use this unique opportunity to reshape its juvenile justice system.
The U.S. Department of Justice recently released two statistical reports that appear to stand in contrast. A report released in June of this year states that in 2018, law enforcement agencies made the fewest number of arrests of juveniles in almost 40 years. But a different report, released in April, shows that juvenile homicide cases spiked by 35% between 2014 and 2018, which overlaps with the period of the June report.
The ostensible discrepancy between these two reports, if viewed without sufficient context, can potentially lead to some misinterpretations and misunderstandings. In particular, given what is occurring currently with regards to the Black Lives Matter movement and heightened tensions surrounding police-community relations, caution should be used when these statistics are directly cited in relation to cases involving Black residents in urban communities.
Criminologist Richard Rosenfeld has previously pointed out the problematic nature of centering the statistical rise in homicides around a narrative about tensions between the police and Black communities. This idea, pushed by some commentators in the popular media, that the increase in homicides was attributed to law enforcement agencies reducing their policing in Black neighborhoods as a result of police-community tensions, is often referred to as the Ferguson Effect.
Looking back at my youth and trying to pinpoint where did I go wrong and how did I go wrong, I realized that the whole time I was trying to get my basic needs met. Needs such as love and a sense of belonging, survival and freedom. My earliest memory was around the age of 5 that I realized that we didn’t have enough food in our home. My daily meal was a small bowl of dirty brown rice with maybe a small chunk of pork fat because we could not afford meat. Pork fat was cheaper than red meat.
“Juvenile justice is a gender-specific system, one that reflects and operates on assumptions about gender and reflects masculine [and feminine] norms.” —Law professor Nancy Dowd
As Nancy Dowd notes, juvenile justice systems tend to be highly gendered and gendering environments, ones that anticipate, reward and even punish specific sorts of masculinity in boys and femininity in girls.
However, because it simply assumes that boys will be manly and girls feminine juvenile justice systems are largely unaware of their own gender assumptions and thus unable to question or change them. Perhaps the main area where juvenile justice does explicitly address gender norms is programming for LGBTQ+ youth (which addresses issues of gender nonconformity). This is not to say that most girls won’t want to be feminine and boys masculine; of course they will. It’s about what kinds of manhood and womanhood we want them learning.
For instance, being manly can mean learning to keep a stiff upper lip, protect the weak and put women and children first. It can also mean getting lots of girls pregnant and beating up queers.
Both of these are definitions of masculinity that circulate in different subcultures in different places.
(Series: Part 6 of 7)
Part 1: How Do We Make Youth Homelessness Effort Bipartisan? Part 2: America’s Biases Marginalize Youth, Drive Them to Homelessness
Part 3: Collective Decision-making Can Neutralize Politics of Fear
Part 4: So, How Does This Collective Decision-making Work? Part 5: Youth Homelessness Is a Symptom, Not a Cause
Generating alternatives is key to effective decision-making because it provides the decision-makers in a collective body with an array of choices from which to choose. The more alternatives, the better the odds of identifying the solution best suited to resolve the problem. Decision theorist Robin Hogarth describes this process as follows:
Imagination and creativity play key roles in judgement and choice.
As a society, we owe a special commitment to youth in custody. Incarceration of any kind causes very real trauma and doing so at a time when young people are growing and learning only compounds the trauma. Our juvenile justice system must seek not to punish, but to support these children’s social, emotional and educational development.
In normal circumstances, our national juvenile justice system does not always serve these children properly. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, we are failing our community’s children. With the current health restrictions around the pandemic, youth in custody have extremely limited or no in-person visitation from family and friends.
I am a former gang member, who took the wrong course of action in joining a gang and decided to live a life of crime. My poor decisions consequently led me to commit a senseless murder and attempted murder on two innocent human beings. As a result of my actions and poor choices I am currently serving a life sentence in prison, as I am under the authority of California Department of Correction and Rehabilitation.
I write you this letter in the hope that it will shed some light into the dark and hidden dangers of gangs and the negative consequences of committing crime.
Being a part of a gang is serious and dangerous matters that have dire consequences. It’s like a deadly tornado that destroys everything and kills anyone who stands in its path.
The violent gang culture destroys countless innocent lives and creates a constant fear and intimidates the neighborhood. It also damages several families and communities in the most destructive ways.
Admissions to juvenile detention facilities are down since the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, meaning that fewer youth are being placed in secure out-of-home centers. The costs to maintain these facilities remain high, however.
Moving forward, states should consider a critical review of which detention centers to keep open. Closing these facilities will not diminish public safety, can help young people stay healthy and can save taxpayer dollars –– which will be badly needed to rebuild our damaged economy. While health care and social distance concerns were the catalyst for detaining fewer youth, the benefits of using detention sparingly are being demonstrated across the country.
A number of states are evaluating how to decrease the number of youths who are detained in juvenile justice facilities. New York and Utah, for instance, are no longer using detention as a punishment for young people who broke a rule outlined as part of their community supervision, often called a "technical violation."
Three months ago, the entire nation was rocked by the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police. In the weeks since his murder, a movement has taken shape to demand not only an end to policing, but a refocusing on community-led public safety that saves lives by stopping the use of officers with a firearm in our neighborhoods.
This national reckoning is based on decades of righteous and rightful anger from Black organizers and community members on the front lines of combating violence. Communities across the country have taken steps to scale back ever-growing police budgets, to strip departments of military-grade equipment that terrorize our streets and to invest in public safety and mental health without putting communities at further risk.
But while our nation finally tackles systemic racism, economic inequality and discriminatory policing, we’re also experiencing a surge in gun violence — disproportionately impacting communities of color. Shootings in New York are up 53% from the same time last year; in Chicago they’re up 46%, in Atlanta, 23%. This summer of violence has taken the lives of dozens of children across the country, including Amaria Jones, a 13-year-old who was killed in her living room by a stray bullet while showing her mom a TikTok video.
The coronavirus pandemic and the countless deaths of Black people have exposed and exacerbated the systemic racial inequities and lack of access to opportunities for Black, Brown and Indigenous people — the same people who bear the brunt of the gun violence pandemic.
For decades, criminal and juvenile justice reformers have fought to dismantle the policies, structures and funding schemes that make up the nation’s overly punitive justice system. Recently, these efforts have been gaining traction. Polls show growing public recognition that the juvenile and criminal justice systems are harsh, ineffective and biased against people of color.
Reform campaigns, many of which are led by justice-impacted people, have taken critical steps to repeal some of the “tough on crime” approaches that gave rise to mass incarceration and an overbuilt juvenile justice system. In the past several years, more than a million people with felony convictions have won the right to vote in Florida, 16- and 17-year-olds are no longer automatically tried as adults in New York and North Carolina, the nation’s largest death row (California’s) has halted executions and progressive district attorneys have been elected in Boston, Philadelphia and San Francisco. Yet success in state legislatures or at the ballot box can be fragile.
