The recent birth of our newest grandchild taught me a powerful and unexpected lesson: there is a strong link between his joyous arrival into this world and my professional work, helping to stop violence in cities across America by building safe and nurturing communities that don’t produce violence.
In my role as “Senior Consultant” for the Department of Justice’s National Forum on Youth Violence Prevention, I’ve recently returned from three “site visits” as part of the federal team. Just before going to Camden, Philadelphia and Minneapolis, I spent three awe-inspiring days with my daughter and her husband as they delivered their first child. Immediately following the federal site visits, my wife and I again journeyed to New York this time seeing a strapping infant unwrapped from his swaddling hospital garb, now lustily nursing.
Named and Claimed
How honored we were to be welcomed into this tribe of doting parents and grandparents so easily identified in New York City’s pulsing streets by stroller pushers. “How old is yours?” I’d ask a stranger. “Three months!” “Our first grandson’s three weeks old,” I’d reply. “He’s already outgrown his first diapers. I’ve got new ones here!” While most New Yorkers don’t break their pace for anything, this tribe stops and shares.
This birth at once so normal, so universal, this child now among New York’s millions. Yet this child is not an undifferentiated part of the universal, but wondrously particular, unique, a child locked in his parents’ eyes, bathed in their love and joy, the world’s only Mitchell Tate. The only one – and on the deepest of levels, Mitch already knows it.
Who is Saying, “You Are Mine?”
Participating Forum cities (15 of them) and their counterparts in the California Cities Violence Prevention Network (13 of them) tasked with producing and implementing a comprehensive plan blending prevention, intervention and enforcement wrestle with the most daunting of issues in their respective city’s highest crime areas. They arrest and enforce, and at the same time attempt to address poverty, unemployment, school retention, teen pregnancy, fractured families, the flood of former inmates returning to already-fragile, mistrusting neighborhoods, and child abuse and domestic violence. Youngsters exposed to chronic violence early in life exhibit persistent fight or flight syndromes – flee the hurt or hurt first before being hurt. Constant alertness cripples the brain, inhibits learning and wrecks the development of trust. “Hot Spot” policing targets blocks, even specific houses. The City of Minneapolis has even included incidences of domestic violence as part of its definition of a “Hot Spot.”
Mentoring, family support, after-school programming, early childhood education, community-oriented policing, job training and street workers attempting to forge relationships with street kids and trying to limit access to the obscene availability of guns are among the many intervention strategies practiced by most of the Forum and Network cities. And most participating cities recognize a truth: the fundamental ache of every human being to belong, to be loved.
“Ceasefire,” an intervention strategy, brings together law enforcement, service providers and the moral voice of the community to confront and try to help a city’s “shot-callers,” those responsible for a disproportionate number of a city’s crimes. During a Ceasefire session I witnessed in Sacramento two years ago, Kathy Jenkins, the community representative, asked one of former inmates – a particularly big, muscled, tattooed guy – to identify himself. “Popeye,” he responded proudly. “No,” persisted Kathy, “your real name, the name your momma gave you.” Popeye shrank visibly. “Kevin” was his whispered response.
Where were we when Kevin’s name became tattered, a source of shame?
Isaiah frames the core of our challenge, to me the very heart both of theology and social policy: “I have called thee by name, thou art mine.” (Isaiah 43.1).
Who is there for each child saying, “Thou art mine,” as my daughter says to our beloved grandson Mitch?
That’s the question as we pursue our mission – to create communities where children are safe and loved.
Written by Jack Calhoun
Mr. Calhoun is an internationally renowned public speaker and frequent media guest, editorial contributor and author of three books. He is the founder and CEO of Hope Matters. For more than 20 years, Mr. Calhoun was the founding president of the National Crime Prevention Council, prior to which he served under President Carter as the Commissioner of the Administration for Children, Youth and Families.
Click on “Contact” to book Mr. Calhoun to speak at your next conference. All speaking topics are available at: www.HopeMatters.org/Speaker
Peter Ellis says
November 14, 2014 at 8:06 pmRight On Jack! The first variable in a resilient youth is a caring loving adult in a youth’s life either at home, school, and community. Sometimes it is not at home and then the school and community must step up and know that child’s name. By extending care and love to build higher expectation and meaningful opportunities to participate in something positive and affirming. I am always amazed when we train caring professions and many strategies that train these professions to not have a relationship with the youth they serve.
I think my fifty years of working with youth and youth providers has shown that the effective providers not only know their youth customers name but also help the youth to see their strengths and assets and have build relationships with these youth.
In the last 12 years we have surveyed and analyzed 721,645 child, youth, parent, and staff surveys to measure customer satisfaction an resiliency outcomes caused by the $490 dollars funded services and care. We have evaluated care with an average of 107 hours of care provide each of these youth customers. When youth providers are assisted to listen to their youth customers they can learn how to be a caring loving adult in that youth life and improve their ability to impact positive changes in all their youth customers through a caring, loving relationship.
The successful agencies build a loving relationship with their youth by becoming a caring adult in their life to assist them to overcome challenges and problems they face. These youth workers also assist youth (many times with trauma) to have a successful relation with an adult and to assist them to build other positive relationship with caring adults that know their name and have touched their heart.
Yes, Jack, the secret to building a caring relationship is the unconditional love of a grandparent.
Carl Wicklund says
November 21, 2014 at 11:16 amJack,
One other thought when you talk about the power of a name…we (APPA staff) are trying very hard to avoid using the term “offender” – especially after sentencing and certainly before conviction – when developing our products. I think it gives the wrong message to both the probationer, parolee, etc. and it also subliminally keeps our workforce in the wrong frame of mind. I have been carrying this message to different work groups, etc. with some success, but boy is it a hard habit for people to break. Plus it is not an accurate term – yes they have offended, but hopefully they are not currently an offender.
Carl Wicklund says
November 21, 2014 at 11:19 amA quote that Jack embodies…“At the center of the universe is a loving heart that continues to beat and that wants the best for every person. Anything we can do to help foster the intellect and spirit and emotional growth of our fellow human beings, that is our job. Those of us who have this particular vision must continue against all odds. Life is for service.” – Fred Rogers aka “Mr. Rogers”
Sue Badeau says
April 7, 2016 at 8:38 pmI love all of your blogs, Jack, but this one particularly spoke to me. Every child needs someone to say, “You are mine.” A family of their own. But more than that, a community that says, “You are ours.” Powerful words. Thank you for continuing to labor on!