Confronting Poverty

Last week, I finished a presentation by telling the story of my student’s recent court victory.  To my (very pleasant) surprise, they persuaded a judge that homelessness is not grounds to place a child in foster care.  Accepting their argument, the judge dismissed the case, and ordered the immediate return of the children to their parents.  Upon hearing the verdict, my client dropped his face into his hands and started to weep.

I’ve told this story several times, and it’s typically greeted with strong applause.  On a surface level, people resist the notion that the State should take kids away because their parents are poor.  But on this day, a woman raised her hand in the back of the room after my telling of the story.  She said, “Sir, that was a great story, but you’ve left out the most important part.  What happened to the children?  Where did they find housing?” 

To which I replied, “I have no idea.  I suspect they are still homeless.  And living on the street.  Probably struggling.” 

Suddenly, the discomfort amongst the crowd was palpable.  The story no longer had a happy ending.  How could this judge just let these kids be homeless?  How could a “child welfare” system be so disinterested in the welfare of children?  Shouldn’t our system at least keep the kids in foster care until their parents could find a home?

I hate poverty.  I hate the fact that children might not have a place to sleep.  Or might go to bed hungry.  Or might not have clothes that fit.  If I could wave my magic wand, I’d want this fixed overnight.  I struggle to live in a country of so many resources that ignores the struggles that millions face. 

But the “child welfare” system can’t fix it.  Despite its name, the system can’t do many of the things needed to ensure a child’s welfare.  Caseworkers can’t give families housing.  Or a job.  Or food.  Or health care.  But while it remains powerless to fix these problems, our system remains comfortable taking kids from their families due to poverty, and then expecting parents to fix their poverty on their own.  We expect them to do this despite our knowledge that political choices – beyond the control of poor families – make this nearly impossible for them to do.  We set them up for failure.  Given this reality, I will continue to resist state intervention due to a family’s poverty.

As I walk the streets of Ann Arbor, I think about the family whose story I tell.  Where are they sleeping?  Do they have food to eat?  Do they have money to buy clothes?  Should I have done something differently?

But then I remind myself that their problem wasn’t a child welfare problem.  It was a poverty problem.  And until our country reckons with the poverty it has created, families will continue to live on the street.