In Season 3 of BMF, we see Detective Bryant’s son, Kevin, thrown into the juvenile detention system after using his father’s weapon against a school bully. As Kevin’s taken away, fear fills Bryant’s eyes—he knows what his son’s likely to face. The juvenile justice system has never been a safe place for Black children, and to understand why, you have to know the history.
Juvenile courts were first established in the late 1800s, but they weren’t designed with Black youth in mind. These courts were created to help white immigrant youth adjust to life in America, teaching them skills to join the workforce. But for Black children, things were very different. Instead of being educated or rehabilitated, Black youth were subjected to convict leasing, lynching, and other brutal forms of punishment. The justice system saw Black children as “lost causes,” unworthy of investment or growth.
When the children of white immigrants no longer dominated juvenile courts, the system changed to focus on disciplining Black children. It became what we recognize today: a racially biased institution that separates Black families, punishes Black youth harshly, and often prepares them for adult incarceration. For a long time, these facilities were even racially segregated. Despite the 1954 Supreme Court ruling that ended segregation in schools, white authorities insisted it didn’t apply to juvenile justice, so Black youth were treated with more harshness than their white counterparts. During the civil rights movement, Black teenagers faced detention for their activism, while white youth often received no punishment at all. Today, Black youth are four times more likely to be committed to juvenile facilities than white youth, and in some states, they’re up to 10 times more likely to be detained.
My Experience: Juvenile Court Is No Place for Black Youth
When I started my career representing children and families in juvenile court, I quickly saw how the system routinely fails Black youth. Kids who were struggling, abused, or neglected came looking for support, only to find a system that punished rather than helped. Parents would come to court, hoping for assistance with a troubled child, thinking that probation officers might offer guidance. I’d often tell them to avoid court intervention if possible—help was the last thing they’d find there.
For over 100 years, the juvenile justice system has failed Black children, treating them as problems to be contained rather than individuals worth rehabilitating. It’s a harsh reality that shows how deep systemic injustice runs.
