Juvenile Justice Information Exchange (https://jjie.org/tag/california/)
Read the individual stories of Xochtil Larios, youth justice coordinator, Jacob Jackson, a community organizer, and Israel Villa, mentor to many juvenile justice-involved youth, about how personal experiences in the juvenile justice system shape their individuals' advocacy of justice reform.
In the months leading up to the June 30 shutdown of California’s more than 100-year-old lockups for juveniles, teenagers through 25-year-olds convicted of crimes such as robbery, rape and murder were transferred to county-run juvenile detention facilities nearer to their homes.
While locked in a California prison for juveniles, Paul Bocenegra got his first shave, sprouted his first patch of chest hair and, he said, learned to fight at that facility, dubbed "gladiator school" because of its levels of violence. "I was condemned to prison to die in a cage at 17 years old," said Bocanegra, now 48, who was tried as an adult in 1992 and served 25 years of what was supposed to be a life-without-parole prison sentence.
“How would you want your kids, if they were in these facilities, to be treated?”
That question was raised by formerly incarcerated youth and current juvenile justice advocate James Martinez at a meeting of California’s Board of State and Community Corrections. The BSCC is a state agency tasked with overseeing jails and county-level juvenile facilities in California. In early November 2022, the board’s Executive Steering Committee, met to begin rewriting critically important rules governing juvenile camps, ranches and halls.
The number of children incarcerated in juvenile prisons across the United States fell to an all-time low in 2020, the latest year of available federal data about those facilities, fueling proponents’ hopes of entirely eliminating those detention centers.
The decline in incarcerations came as juvenile arrests have also dropped for most crimes except murder, which has been on the rise in recent years.
A University of California at Berkeley School of Public Health analyzed 13 years’ worth of hospital records for almost 16,000 patients aged 19 and younger, starting roughly in 2013. Black girls in those reports were injured more often than any group other than Black boys. Whites had the lowest injury rates among all races of youth, according to the analysis, published this week in the Journal of the American Medical Association’s JAMA Pediatrics.
Supporters of the juvenile justice status quo wrongly claim that community-based organizations are not yet strong enough to serve all youth who may otherwise cycle through juvenile courts, detention centers and on and off parole rosters. Ideally, opponents to reform say, youth would be served by nonprofits close to home, but that cannot happen until enough suitable nonprofits are available. This line of thinking ignores the community-based direct services already offered in many areas, from life coaching in Oakland to legal support in Los Angeles. Failing to adequately support these existing community services keeps us stuck in a cycle of waiting. Instead of waiting for community-based organizations to grow above and beyond their present capacities, how about we actually do the work required for their growth?
Youth arrest rates have plummeted over the past several decades, falling nearly 70% nationwide since 2000, including a 54% reduction in violent offense arrests. There are now fewer youth in juvenile halls or courtrooms and far smaller probation caseloads. Yet state and local governments continue to invest heavily in juvenile justice, shoring up systems that are known to cause harm.
Amid the current economic crisis, maintaining overbuilt juvenile facilities and bloated probation budgets squanders resources that schools, health systems and community-based service providers desperately need. Moreover, funding excessive facility space can needlessly sweep youth into a system bent on self-preservation. In California, like much of the country, juvenile justice systems have experienced significant population reductions.
I imagined things from the standpoint of invincibility in my youth. Growing up in the ghetto encouraged me to embrace a “survival of the fittest” mentality without ever having read Darwin. As a child I understood the ghetto as an opposing force that kept my mother on her knees in prayer — sweating, struggling and protecting. She sacrificed all her wants, dreams and half her needs to protect my sister and me from ever feeling poor as children. With no father around, I was the man of the house.
As I write these words, I am overcome with a rush of nostalgia. Although my time at the Youth Guidance Center Juvenile Facility (YGC) in San Francisco was anything but joyful, I found solace in the streaks of graphite that marked my paper as I wrote for The Beat Within.
Growing up in the heart of San Francisco’s Mission District, which was plagued by crime, drugs and alcohol, along with being raised by immigrant Spanish-speaking parents who did not fully grasp the consequences of our environment, evidently shifted my path from the American Dream they sought for me into a path of violence, depression and alcohol abuse.
It was not a surprise when I found myself within the white bricked walls of YGC at the young age of 14 for robbery with an added charge of conspiracy. This was only the beginning, as I would find myself staring out of the graffiti-carved plexiglass surrounded by the coldness of the stainless steel at least 15 more times within a four-year span.
To this day, the feeling of claustrophobia creeps in during the most unexpected times of my adult life, bringing me back to the reality of my broken childhood.
During my fifth visit to YGC for assault I was officially made a ward of the court and sent to my first group home. I ran away and eventually found myself back in YGC. I found myself revolving through the same doors of the courts, from group homes to juvenile detention, a never-ending cycle.