For Black families in Phoenix, child welfare investigations are a constant threat

PHOENIX — Nydea Richards moved her family to Phoenix in 2015 in search of better weather and lower crime than her hometown of Milwaukee. At the time, she was pregnant.

Richards arrived in America before most Americans. She didn’t consider child protective services a significant presence in anyone’s life, except for child abuse. She was more worried about her children encountering police as a Black mother.

She was eventually investigated by the Arizona Department of Child Safety (DCS), based on her initial drug test results, which were given to her baby girl at the hospital. DCS case records that she shared with ProPublica/NBC News show that she was also being investigated by NBC News and NBC News.

Although it is against hospital policy to test for drugs following all births, staff informed her that they were screening her and her child because she was not from the area. Richards believes that the reason for Richards’ negative test was her skin color.

DCS placed a ban on her being alone with her baby for five consecutive days. A caseworker then interrogated her about her marital status and whether she had ever received food stamps. She also discussed how she handles stress. She also examined her six other children and interrogated them for hours about their chores and meals.

The department discovered that the test had been falsely positive and decided to dismiss the case, according to the records.

Richards stated, “They never explained or excused.”

Richards, a case manager for a behavioral healthcare company, was again investigated when her daughter fell from a couch. A spokesperson for DCS said that the child maltreatment allegation was also unfounded.

The department declined further comment on the cases.

Richards feels dread whenever any of her children get hurt or become sick. She fears that DCS will return if she takes her children to the doctor.

In the years that have passed since her experiences with Arizona’s child welfare systems, she stated that two of her Phoenix family members, along with a neighbor, and a client at work, have all been subject to these investigations into their parenting. They are all Black.

DCS examined the families of 1 in 3 Black children living in Maricopa County from 2015 to 2019, which was the last year of federal child welfare statistics before the pandemic. This was according to an analysis done by ProPublica, NBC News, and NBC News using data taken from the National Data Archive of Child Abuse and Neglect.

A study by the National Academy of Sciences last year used similar data to predict that Black children in Maricopa County will reach 18 years old by which time they could see their parents by child services. This is the highest rate of all the 20 largest counties in America.

In other words, metro Phoenix’s Black children will be subject to a greater number of child maltreatment investigations than those who are not.

This is significantly more likely than Black teens being stopped by police, an issue that has received far greater attention in recent years. Multiple studies and interviews with experts in criminal justice data have shown this to be the case.

ProPublica and NBC News interviewed over 30 Black parents in the Phoenix region who were involved in child welfare cases. They also interviewed several of their children and nine teens who had DCS investigations.

Many of the parents were single moms or dads who worked, such as Richards. Richards was a resident of South Phoenix’s historically Black neighborhood. Many were middle-class couples who lived in gated communities with cactus-lined streets that surround suburbs such as Mesa or Glendale. Others were adoptive parents or extended family members caring for a child.

Nearly all of them described a system that is so prevalent among Black families, it has created a communitywide fear: of the next knock at their door, or of that warrantless search of their home. Many expressed disbelief at the ease with which the state government could enter their home and possibly remove their children.

Black families and their advocates stated that DCS’ widespread presence does not simply result in unnecessary investigations where racial bias could have played a part, as Richards believes happened in her case. In some cases, it’s also the result of Arizona’s public policy choices that favor punitive over preventative approaches to Black parents. Many of these parents are suffering from racism and a lack of inherited wealth.

According to ProPublica, the state, which was the last to recognize Martin Luther King Jr. Day in 1992, spends a large portion of its welfare budget on DCS investigation rather than on assistance to families who are in dire need.

These priorities are clearly reflected in the data.

Maricopa County’s child maltreatment cases from 2015 to 2019 led to only 2% of the children being accused. This is one of the lowest rates in large American counties.

15% of the children were allegedly victims of neglect. This refers to parenting problems that are often associated with poverty. It includes a lack of decent housing, child care, food, and clothing, as well as a lack of mental health treatment. This category also includes drug and alcohol use. Numerous studies have shown that these are less common in low-income or Black communities.

Family advocates stated that 20% of Maricopa County’s Black residents live below the poverty level, while 13% of county residents are below it. However, having money shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for good parenting.

Mike Faust (director of DCS) stated that the data used in this article are based on a period of time. It covers 2015 to 2019 and began with a caseload crisis at the department. He said that the agency had made significant changes over that time, including improving its intake, and risk assessment tools, and reducing subjective decision-making.

“We’ve gone away from what I believe most people would call the worst child protection agency in America to one that — I don’t know if there will ever be a high-performer agency for child protection, given the nature and work we do — it’s drastically different,” stated Faust, a white man who has been leading the agency since 2019.

The most recent federal data available through September 2020 show that DCS has seen a decrease in the number of families it examines statewide. However, this decline did not improve — or worsen — racial inequality.

While investigations were completed for 7,400 fewer white children in the 2016-2020 fiscal years, the number of Black children whose parents were investigated fell by less than 100. (Some children were not identified as belonging to a particular race.)

Faust admitted that “it didn’t have an instant impact on only African American children.” “I make a commitment to keep the organization engaged. These are difficult conversations, and I can assure you that they are not easy. It’s been difficult. It’s been difficult, but you have to keep coming back to that table, regardless of whether people are sharing that raw emotion at times.”

Faust is a conservative Republican from the private sector and may lose his job next spring. Katie Hobbs (a Democrat) was elected as Arizona governor last month. This will likely mean that DCS will have a new leader, and perhaps a new approach toward racial disparity in the next few years.

Joe Wolf, a spokesperson, said that Hobbs’ career included stints with homeless youth and running one of the largest domestic violence shelters. This gave her an insight into the needs of Arizona’s most vulnerable. Wolf stated that her team is working on plans to improve social services in Arizona as the governor-elect takes office. This includes “resolving the racial disparities which have plagued this system for so many years.”

How America’s child welfare dragnet traps struggling families

• Mandatory reporting was intended to prevent severe child abuse. Instead of punishing poor families, it penalizes them.
• CPS workers search millions upon millions of homes each year. Moms who resist paying the price

Despite their concerns, leaders of the Black community in Phoenix still feel that reforms are difficult to advocate for across both Republican administrations and Democratic administrations.

One thing is that the metro’s Black population, which makes up 7% of its total population, is smaller and more scattered than similar large U.S. cities. It is difficult to unite around this shared experience and make DCS a pressing issue in politics.

Moreover, many families find it more stigmatizing to share that they were stopped by police or child services.

Some local leaders stated that it took them some time to see the extent of DCS’s presence.

Janelle Wood, the founder and president/CEO of Phoenix’s Black Mothers Forum said she expected that her community group would be primarily focused on police violence against Black youth and criminalization. They have, to a certain extent. She said that DCS kept popping up at meetings, noting that the anonymity of the gatherings allowed these conversations. “These are the most heartbreaking stories — so many mothers had them.”

Kenneth Smith is the principal of an alternative high school in Phoenix and works with the NAACP local chapter and other nonprofits in the area. He said that he does not usually openly discuss this topic due to the stigma attached to it, even though he knows many people who have had DCS cases.

He said that the statistics identified by ProPublica or NBC News are “like turning on lights and everyone is now standing together in the room saying, ‘What?!? “You too?”

“It becomes a curse for generations”

ProPublica and NBC News conducted an investigation into child welfare issues in the U.S..

Reporters discovered that child protective agencies inspect the homes of approximately 3.5 million American children every year. They open refrigerators, closets, and search kids’ bodies in nearly all cases. They only find evidence of physical or sexual abuse in 5% of these cases.

Phoenix may be an exception, but the system’s racial disparity is a national problem.

Maricopa County saw Black children in child welfare investigations at a rate that was nearly three times their white peers between 2015 and 2019.

However, the investigations were more widespread among Black families than elsewhere in the country. In many smaller counties, rates were higher than in Phoenix.

Matthew Stewart, the son and longtime senior pastor at Phoenix’s most prominent Black church First Institutional Baptist joined DCS in 2009 as a case manager. Because he was passionate about youth mentorship and social justice, he joined DCS in 2009.

Stewart, then a training supervisor found an internal agency spreadsheet that showed a significant racial disparity among Arizona’s foster children. This mainly consisted of children taken from their families after investigations. Stewart hadn’t fully grasped the problem until that point.

He was overcome with shame.

Stewart resigned two years later after realizing that he could not make meaningful changes within the department. Since then, he has founded Our Sister Our Brother, a community organization that advocates for helping families, rather than separating them.

He said that generational poverty and the trauma it causes within families has been “centuries in making.” Is it reasonable for parents to think that once DCS has custody of their children, all problems will be solved?

He stated, “I don’t believe DCS is the right agency to do that.”

Tyra Smith from Mesa is one of Stewart’s parents. She now works as a parent advocate for the growing group.

According to a case report, Smith was reported as having left her four children (triplets aged 7 and 4 years old) for 20 minutes in her apartment in 2020. After a heated phone conversation with her sister, Smith claimed she was going for an evening walk to calm herself down.

A police officer called DCS while she was gone and called DCS to inform them that she wasn’t present. The department responded to her anger over the incident and her lack of supervision.

This temporary removal, as is the case in child protection systems, led to a larger DCS inquiry into Smith’s mental and emotional health, her relationship with her ex, her use of marijuana (which is legal here in Arizona), and the cleanliness of her home, records reveal. These concerns led to the department keeping custody of the boys for over a year before releasing them.

Smith stated that her mother was a subject of such an investigation when she was growing up and that many of her Black friends have had to endure one as well.

She is worried about her sons being arrested or shot as they get older. However, when it happens to Black men she pointed out that the news reports often state, “Oh, their childhood, ‘into the system”.

Smith stated, “It becomes a generational curse.”

NBC News and ProPublica presented Darren DaRonco, DCS spokesperson, with names and anecdotes from the families. He checked with agency leaders and case records and confirmed that they had all been investigated and that their account of events was accurate. He noted that Arizona law would allow him to correct or clarify any factual errors.

Katherine Guffey, the executive consultant to DCS’ Director, spoke out about additional steps their team took to address the issue of disproportionality, particularly since the racial justice movement that erupted following the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis by a Minneapolis policeman in 2020.

Guffey, who was white, stated that the department has been taking in feedback from Black employees who created a disparity panel, which included Stewart, before Stewart left. This helped them create a charter as well as an action plan. The workshop was held on the systemic causes and solutions to racial inequality. It was also attended by staff members.

DCS convened a two-hour confidential focus group with twelve Black people earlier this year to discuss how their department’s involvement with families has affected them. To continue discussions, Casey Family Programs, a child welfare consulting firm, was brought in.

The agency also plans to create a Cultural brokers program in order to ensure that parents can contact caseworkers to have a trusted member of their community.

Critics claim that although these positive steps are welcome, no proposal has been made to limit the agency’s fundamental power, which is to take children away from their parents.

Stewart stated, “We have a culture that says Black families must be watched, and if they don’t agree, we are the saviors for these children and are charged to punish their parents.”

He said that until the fundamental outlook of child welfare systems changes, some well-intentioned steps may just be a way to perpetuate the problem.

Are you in Arizona?

Arizona was an early Confederate territory. Its leaders had business connections to the Deep South and felt a common cause with them. The first significant wave of Black residents arrived in Phoenix from Louisiana, Texas, and Arkansas in the 1910s and 1920s to work in cotton camps.

Redlining and racial covenants forced these families to move to South Phoenix, where they were prohibited from owning or renting property elsewhere.

Rod Grimes, an Arizona Black history scholar, stated that despite the injustices of residential segregation it created a sense of Black density in a small town with few Black residents. He said that once families were able to move, many people moved to the suburbs. Some of that strength in numbers was lost.

Today, the majority of Black residents in metro Phoenix are geographically dispersed and thus politically divisive. Many people in interviews said that they don’t have the strong voting blocs in the South or the protection afforded by living in an urban area with a majority of Black residents. They are therefore more likely to be surrounded by white neighbors, teachers, and health workers who they fear will call DCS. They are less likely to be able to oversee the department or advocate for better social services in order to prevent child welfare cases.

Arizona still has two Black state legislators, out of 90 — the exact same number as in 1950.

Clottee Hammons is an Arizona history expert who is also the creative director for Emancipation Arts. She believes that this result is a business-oriented, white-oriented leadership class which she and other Black Arizonans cannot relate to how it is to raise a Black child on a low income.

Critics claim that the state Legislature does not address concerns specific to Black families because it is too focused on issues of general interest to white voters like school choice or border security.

The legislature has not created an accessible, well-funded statewide system where parents in poverty, as well as teachers and mandated reporters of child abuse, can call for help. While many other states have made significant investments in these services, Arizona’s main option is to contact DCS. This comes with the possibility for family separation.

DaRonco, the spokesperson for the department, stated that he shared the criticisms from parents and other community members. “We share their desire to reduce DCS presence at their homes by creating community-based support that gets them what they need, without the stress of a DCS encounter.”

DCS involvement means that the focus is now on child safety and possible child removal, rather than trying to address the root causes of problems. This is reflected in the agency’s funding structure. The department spent approximately $90 million on group homes, other congregate facilities, foster youth, and adoptions in fiscal 2022. This compares to only $15 million for prevention and $29 million for in-home services for families.

DaRonco pointed out that the Legislature makes the final decisions regarding how DCS spends its funds and not the department. DaRonco also noted that the budget includes additional subsidies to support parenting programs and substance abuse treatment, which could lead to a family reunion.

A large portion of the federal government‘s foster care and adoption funds comes in the form of annual incentives.

Roy Dawson, executive director at the non-profit Arizona Center for African American Resources, a prominent Phoenix advocate for racial equality in the child welfare system, said, “I’m just saying you, people feel like their babies being sold and traded — that’s how easy and how profitable it feels.”

Dawson said that Arizona’s foster care nonprofits are a large part of the reason Arizona has so much funding for foster care. This helps to maintain the system’s size and reach.

It is unclear whether Hobbs’ election as governor will result in a realignment at DCS of budget priorities or a shift in the Legislature regarding anti-poverty issues. Republicans continue to be the majority.

Experts and families were skeptical of the possibility of any change due to the agency’s long history in claiming that it would fix its problems related to race but without making much progress.

Guffey, who was referring to the old name of the department, said that “I can confirm with certainty that many DCS or previous CPS administrations” had seen the information and were aware of it.

Dana Burns is a mother, musician, and founder of A Permanent Voice Foundation in South Phoenix. She says DCS’s pervasiveness in the area feels like a part of an anti-Black attitude she and other parents in this state face from officials and neighbors alike.

She said, “It’s Arizona.” “It’s an attitude we weren’t supposed to have.”

A white family idea

Many of the Black families that spoke with ProPublica or NBC News were surprised to learn that DCS was their first contact.

According to department data, its frontline staff is most often white and more than half of them are in their 20s. This is consistent with national trends. Interviews revealed that many of these staff were working their second or third job after college. Many also stated that they did not have children. The agency’s turnover has been high, which further lowers the average level of experience.

The typical scenario sees a white parent with very little to no experience parenting children in a Black household.

It felt like we were on show like someone was checking everything. Tressie King lives in Chandler with Jamel, her husband, and their adopted son, 13 years old. King was accused of leaving her autistic child unattended in her car as she went to the store. However, case documents show that this allegation was not supported.

She said, “It felt as if they were checking ME out. Not my child.” “I told her that if I feel ashamed, then how is that good news for the child?”

Many Black parents have also stated that their anger can be interpreted as a threat if they become combative because their most valuable possessions may be stolen.

Sarah Encarnacion is a DCS child safety specialist and stated that her goal was to keep families together and make them feel like she is a trustworthy presence. She acknowledged that she was a petite, white woman and had to prepare herself for entering a home where she was such a foreign entity.

The spokesperson for DCS, DaRonco, stated that DCS has many initiatives to “change” the power dynamics between its staff members and their families. They also hold “team decision-making” meetings at the beginning of each investigation so parents, and any neighbors, teachers, clergy, or other people they wish, can have more say in the process.

Cultural attitudes towards corporal punishment are also different in Black families. It is more prevalent than average in Black families. Interviews with Black children and parents revealed that they can distinguish between abuse and whooping. Some parents would prefer to spank their child (which is legal in Arizona) than risking the child being caught by the police and suffering something worse.

Richards, the Phoenix mother who was accused of raising her children in the same way as her parents, stated that nine out of 10 parents do so. She has since become a champion for child welfare. If the state doesn’t agree with this way of raising children, then the solution is to just take them all the time. Each generation?

Richards, along with many others, said that DCS’s prevalence can eventually cause irreparable damage to the relationships between Black parents. They sometimes threaten to call DCS upon each other when they are in normal family disputes.

She said that although it was “a mess,” the agency had become “so integral to our lives that we can’t help but say it.”

Richards stated that her family and struggles with the child welfare system led to Richards deciding to move again. She will likely leave Arizona next year.