In the aftermath of the state sponsored killing of George Floyd, protests and uprisings are occurring across the country, including here in the Commonwealth. Mr. Floyd's death was far from an isolated occurrence. Police violence and brutality, especially directed towards the Black community, is both a historical reality and a frequent occurrence.

Police in the United States kill more people in a number of days than other countries do in years. And the Black community bears the overwhelming burden of this sad reality. Black American make up 13% of the population yet are killed by police at a rate that is twice that of White Americans. This is made even more jarring by the number of Black children that have been consumed by this unacceptable pattern of law enforcement action. Cornelius Frederick, Jayson Negron, Kwame Jones and Tamir Rice are some of the names of Black children whose lives have been cut short before adulthood at the hand of the police. Couple that with studies that have found that young men reporting police contact, particularly more intrusive contact, also display higher levels of anxiety, trauma and even post-traumatic stress disorder associated with these experiences and it is evident that racism is fundamentally damaging not just Black men and women, but Black youth.

We have spent the last few months concerned about the impact of the COVID-19 virus. But we must remember that racism, itself, is a virus. It’s silent, it’s invisible and it’s deadly. It is a virus so insidious that it claims the lives of thousands and leaves many more with deep permanent wounds. No matter how immune or progressive we may think that we are in Massachusetts, structural racism is alive and well here. And the time for action is long overdue. However, time and time again, no matter how egregious the actions of law enforcement or how many are harmed by racism, substantive reform is stonewalled.

Legislation to institute even the mildest form of law enforcement accountability stalls from the opposition. Any effort to shed light on the racial impact of any policy is met with opposition. The recently passed hands-free driving law was delayed for months, even though there was near unanimous support for the policy. The hold up: requiring the collection of race and ethnicity data in the enforcement of the law.

For 16 years, CfJJ has been advocating for transparency on how our legal system responds to children and youth once they get arrested. But every year, we can not get that bill (H.2141/S.1386) passed because some are scared that our data will show the disparate treatment of Black and Brown youth by our legal system. When some agencies had their first attempt to answer the question "does our legal system treat Black youth different than White youth", we found that the answer is a resounding yes, with some counties up to 2.5 times more likely to incarcerate Black youth for the same behavior as their White counterparts. Rather than dig deeper into that data and try to actually work to address the factors creating this disparity, some in the system acted to ensure that the data was pulled and the research was thwarted because it "made some decision makers look bad".

We have heard it all – collecting racial data is “inconvenient”, analyzing our disparities “makes [insert decision maker] look bad”. All excuses that center and prioritize the ego of those that are a part of the system over the need for equity and the Black community's inalienable right for respect and fair treatment. We don’t solve institutional racism by making the racial impact of our decisions invisible. Or by refusing to hold those who engage in racist actions accountable. That is why we need to take this moment in time to reflect on the damage caused by the refusal to confront the impact of bias and racism in our systems at every level and to move, boldly, into action to create change. Because justice has been denied for far too long.

In solidarity,

Leon Smith, Esq.
Executive Director
Citizens for Juvenile Justice