Editor’s Note
This is Part One of a two-part series that came out of the “Our Kids” reporting project. Our Kids is a project of the reporting collaborative, which examines the challenges and opportunities facing Philadelphia’s foster care system.
So, why Philadelphia? While we generally report mostly only on issues in Los Angeles and around California, this two part series which originally ran in NEXT CITY skillfully points beyond itself to the destructive and disproportionate treatment that too many Black families, Indigenous families, and Latinx families all over the nation, including in California and, yes, in Los Angeles are experiencing when they come in contact with the child welfare system.
Now, months later, Lamb’s experience of the child welfare system continues. The second set of x-rays cleared her, showing no new growth at the suspected fracture site proof that there was no break in the baby’s leg. Nevertheless, DHS informed her that they would keep her kids in custody until a full hearing could be held.
“I didn’t understand how this was possible,” says Lamb, recalling the moment she heard the news. “I was like, ‘I didn’t do anything wrong. You know that now, and you’re still keeping my kids?’”
Lamb’s story, however, isn’t that unusual. Built to err on the side of caution for kids, the child welfare system often manifests as a punitive and intrusive force, particularly toward Black families, who are statistically more likely to be referred for investigations and more likely to have their kids taken into foster care when compared to white families. As a result, reformers and abolitionists are demanding that the system be reformed, even w