Lessons Learned From the Los Angeles Youth Movement Against The Carceral State
Los Angeles School Police Department LASPD (Tony Webster/Wikipedia Commons)
Editor’s Note: The following essay is part of a politics dossier featuring presenters from The Latinx Project’s recent conference, “Latinx Politics — Resistance, Disruption & Power.” To download the PDF, click here.
On June 23, after a day of youth-led protest, the Los Angeles Unified School District (LAUSD) voted down Board Member Monica Garcia’s resolution to cut the Los Angeles School Police Department (LASPD) budget by 90% over a three year period. Despite this loss, it was clear to youth activists and their adult allies that abolitionist politics were at the fore as calls to defund school police swept the nation. And while community based abolitionist politics predate the mass uprisings following the murder of George Floyd, resolutions to “defund the police” authored by LAUSD board members do not. A week later, after a full day of public testimony, board deliberations and heated debates, and protest; LAUSD voted 4 to 3 to defund LASPD by $25 million, resulting in a 35% decrease in the LASPD annual budget.
This victory has been decades in the making and part of a larger movement in Los Angeles to abolish policing and carceral logics in schools. In fact, in 2016, community organizers convinced LAUSD and LASPD to return military grade weapons—including 3 grenade launchers, 61 M-16 rifles, and a tank—they had acquired through the Department of Defense “Excess Military Equipment Program.” Prior to that, in 2013, community activists and organizations won the passage of the “School Climate Bill of Rights,” which eliminated expulsion and suspension for acts of “willful defiance” and called for alternatives to suspensions. This victory in LAUSD was followed by the passage of similar bills and resolutions across California. Yet, recognizing that a $25 million budget cut is not enough to abolish one of the largest school police departments in the county, youth protesters have continued their calls to defund LASPD.
That’s why on September 15th, youth organizers returned to LAUSD headquarters to not only demand the defunding and abolishment of LASPD, but to also demand youth involvement in the decision-making processes connected to the reallocation of the $25 million dollars. I took the picture above that evening after adult allies formed a protective barrier to prevent pro-police counter protestors from reaching the student-led rally. About 20 minutes into the rally, 35 or so counter-protesters, many of whom were off-duty officers, arrived accompanied by the lyrics of Toy Story’s “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” The song blasted out of the motorcycle of a counter-protester who revved his engine in sync with “Black Lives Matter” chants in an attempt to drown them out. The counter protesters arrived as libations were being poured in memory of Breonna Taylor, Andres Guardado, Dijon Kizzee, and the countless others murdered by the police. Some of their signs read “Keep Our Kids Safe,” “Protect Our Kids,” and “Defend School Police.” While drawn in different colors, fonts, and material, what connected all the signs was the exclusion of Black youth from notions of safety and protection.
For the past three years I have been researching how the logics and practices of the carceral state—like that of the counter--protesters—persist and manifest themselves in the lives of Black, and Brown youth in Los Angeles County. Most importantly, I document how Black and Brown youth activists and their coalitions refuse, resist, and challenge the carceral social order to center youth of color and their futures. With an intersectional, multigenerational, and abolitionist approach, coalitions like Brothers, Sons, Selves (BSS)—a group of nine community-based organizations across Los Angeles and Long Beach—offer several lessons to support youth of color-led movements against the carceral state.
First, the movement is and must be youth-led and youth-centered. The experiences of youth of color render visible how carceral logics operate outside of places that are not explicitly punitive like prisons and juvenile detention centers. According to a young Black girl who spoke at the September 15th rally, in order to understand the mechanisms that facilitate the expansion of a carceral social order into schools—as one example among many others—we must “let the primary sources tell their story.” This also means that youth of color must be present and allowed to actively participate in decision-making processes that impact them and their communities. This is particularly important given the fact that adults in decision making positions often express the same sentiments as the counter-protestors I described above.
Their stories lead me to the second lesson: the movement is and must be intersectional. The BSS Coalition, for example, recognizes that the insidious nature of the carceral state requires an intersectional approach. In other words, their mission to end the criminalization of youth of color can only be achieved by remaining attuned to how criminalization produces difference as well as distinct, yet structurally similar experiences.
Intersectionality is also a practice. That is, intersectionality is a reflexive and purposeful process that requires showing up to meetings, rallies, and spaces of dialogue within movements to ensure that all systems of punishment are eradicated. This common ground motivates youth of color and their adult allies to foster connections with coalitions, individuals, and organizations addressing other issues pertaining to the carceral state.
Third, abolition is also about shifting practices. The testimonies that youth of color often share reveal the racial and gendered brutality of carceral logics. You don’t need a prison or a police officer for the carceral state to operate. As such, the youth movement against the carceral state disrupts our current relational practices with demands for counselors not cops, social workers not cops, and everybody except cops. These calls to action scrutinize the over reliance on logics and practices of punishment, dispossession, and abandonment in every aspect of our lives, but especially the lives of youth of color.
Lastly, the movement must unapologetically center joy, music, dance, and healing. The logics of the carceral state and their murderous agents are relentless and exhausting. In response, youth of color activists have been just as relentless through spoken word, building the soundtrack of the movement, holding healing circles, dancing, and prompting exercise routines during rallies. As Audre Lorde reminds us, caring for ourselves is an act of political warfare.
We are currently witnessing how the carceral state and its agents value property, punishment, borders, and walls—including the walls adjacent to Breonna Taylor’s home—over life. Youth of color in the United States have witnessed firsthand the consequences of carceral expansion and police brutality in the United States. Despite experiencing the brunt of carceral subjugation and oppression, Black and Brown youth in Los Angeles County, and across the country, are developing robust intersectional and abolitionist critiques, practices, and movements. As a youth activist proclaimed earlier this year, “this is a movement not a moment.” That is, current movements to defund school police have been long in the making. They are a reflection of decades of youth of color refusing, disrupting, and organizing to challenge the carceral social order of the United States. How might schools, our communities, and the world look like if youth of color were met with healing and support? How do we create a world where youth of color can be free? For answers to these questions, “let the primary sources tell their story” and take them seriously.
Uriel Serrano is a PhD candidate in Sociology and Critical Race and Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Santa Cruz. His research and teaching interests are located in the sociology of race, gender, and masculinity, children and youth, and social movements, and engage three broad areas: critical carceral studies; intersectionality; and critical youth studies. You can read more about his work and publications at urielserrano.com