In 2019 on Halloween, my wife and our daughter had watched an NYPD officer drive the wrong way up a Brooklyn street and hit a Black teenager. When the boy rolled off the car and ran away, the officers turned their attention to other nearby Black boys. The police lined them against a wall, cuffed them and took them away.
Madison is one of about 49 public school districts nationwide that, according to Education Week, have trimmed or eliminated school policing programs since 2020. While some districts that removed police officers have reported largely positive results, in Madison, some students, parents and educators are considering what they believe they’ve lost.
"The United States incarcerates an alarming number of children and adolescents every year. Disproportionately, they are youth of color.
Given the short- and long-term damages stemming from youth out of home placement, it is vital to understand its true scope. In 2019, there were more than 240,000 instances of a young person detained, committed, or both in the juvenile justice system. However, youth incarceration is typically measured via a one-day count taken in late October. This metric vastly understates its footprint: at least 80% of incarcerated youth are excluded from the one-day count..."
Black men who were incarcerated between the ages of 15 and 22, and tracked for roughly 40 years ending in 2018, had a significantly lower life expectancy after their release from prison than non-Blacks, according to a recently released Boston Medical Center-based study.
In my 15 years of working with youth who cycle through the criminal justice system — initially as a social worker and, now, as a lawyer — I’ve represented exactly two white clients. Mainly, my clients have been Latinx kids and Black kids like that one whose tragic story I’ve partly shared. Too often, Black and Latinx kids aren’t granted the same allowances, including diversion from incarceration, that are given to white youth deemed guilty of the very same infractions.
Part of the solution lies in projects such as Ambassadors for Racial Justice, which trains juvenile defenders across the nation on how to combat systemic racism through case advocacy, community activism and legislation. Georgetown Law Professor Kristin Henning launched the program and National Juvenile Defender Center Executive Director Mary Ann Scali has been a driving force in its development; both of have been battling racial inequities in the juvenile legal system for more than 25 years.
What do you do if you find racist graffiti on a wall near your school or youth program? Or come across neo-Nazi flyers in the area? Or read white nationalist comments on an online platform used by your program? A toolkit, “Confronting White Nationalism in Schools,” can help adults who work with youth choose specific responses. It was created by the Western States Center, a Portland, Oregon, nonprofit whose mission is to strengthen inclusive democracy and respond to bigotry and intolerance.
The year 2020 will be remembered as a year of great upheaval in the United States, with so many lives and communities upended by the intersecting crises of COVID-19 and systemic racism. But of course, there is another crisis woven into the fabric of this incredibly challenging year — rising rates of gun violence in urban communities across the country.
This troubling trend is also being felt in Massachusetts, a state known for having one of the strongest packages of gun-related legislation in the country. While we do have more regulations on gun ownership in place than almost any other state, we still experience far too many losses and far too much trauma as a result of firearms. Every shooting results in a ripple effect of emotional pain for all the individuals involved in the shooting, for their families and also for their communities.
If we want to move the needle on gun violence, we must zero in on root causes and support the communities disparately impacted by this violence. We must focus on the trauma that surrounds gun violence, not just the guns themselves. And we must also push back on public officials that exacerbate the pain of gun violence through their words and policy recommendations.
A growing number of local jurisdictions are engaging in juvenile justice reform efforts to reduce the number of youth in the justice system overall and particularly in out-of-home placements. In the era of COVID, with over 3,300 youth in juvenile justice facilities testing positive as of early January, these efforts are particularly urgent.
Addressing structural racism in the juvenile justice system and collaborating more closely with youth, their families and caregivers are two of the most important and challenging aspects of decarceration efforts and other types of juvenile justice reform. Both elements are pillars of the Annie E. Casey Foundation’s (the Foundation) local deep-end reform work, which involves collaborating with local jurisdictions to reduce the use of out-of-home placement, particularly for youth of color.
The Urban Institute and Mathematica collaborated on a developmental evaluation of the Foundation’s deep-end work that documented the creative ways 12 participating sites are engaging in policy and practice reform to advance race equity and increase youth and family engagement. Other communities seeking to achieve similar goals can benefit from the lessons learned from deep-end work. Racial and ethnic equity and inclusion
Systemic racism is pervasive in the juvenile justice system.
The 2020 presidential election — which took place near the end of a tumultuous year that featured the rampant spread of a highly lethal pandemic, a disastrous economic recession and a long-overdue nationwide reckoning around systemic racism and police brutality — presented the country with a choice between two candidates with drastically different messages and visions for the nation. The election had historic levels of voter turnout, including among 18- to 29-year-olds and Joe Biden emerged as the clear winner with a victory that exceeded 300 electoral votes and a popular vote margin of victory of nearly 6 million (and growing).
Although public health experts have rightly been focused on the COVID-19 pandemic this year, America has been in the grips of another public health crisis for much longer — a gun violence epidemic that will continue to take lives long after we’re vaccinated unless bold steps are taken to curb the violence and address its underlying causes. Gun violence has continued unabated throughout the other crises of 2020 and acutely impacts Black, Indigenous and other communities of color.
In order to end the gun violence epidemic, the Biden-Harris administration must take a public health approach to solving the issue that not only corrects the harmful policies of the current administration but also goes significantly further to address the root causes of gun violence. Over the last four years, the Trump administration largely turned a blind eye to the issue of gun violence, except to encourage gun ownership and traffic in irrational and often racist fear-mongering. The administration eliminated funds for violence intervention programs in favor of law enforcement suppression and weakened the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.
Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell also worked alongside the administration to block common-sense gun legislation, including expanded background checks, closing the Charleston loophole and so-called “red flag laws,” also known as extreme risk protection orders.
BIRMINGHAM, Alabama — Black freedom fighters in Alabama once changed this country.
Speaking onstage in Kelly Ingram Park on Juneteenth, Celestine Hood, a woman who witnessed radical change during the Civil Rights Movement, said Alabamians had the power to do it again.
Hood was a child in this park in May 1963, one of the young students participating in a demonstration for racial equality when Police Chief Eugene “Bull” Connor ordered attack dogs and firehoses on protesters. Images of children enduring that brutality enraged the world, sparking international support for the movement.
In May of this year, a video of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin killing George Floyd, an unarmed Black man in custody for allegedly spending counterfeit money, shocked the world again. Protests erupted in big cities and rural towns, demanding an end to police and vigilante killings of Black people.
“We had dogs and firehoses,” Hood said. “You’ve got tear gas. You’ve got rubber bullets. It’s the same fight.”
The crowd of a few hundred — Black, brown and white, young and old —nodded, raised their fists.