Adolescence

Mother, Clinician, Witness: Healing Communities

How communities can come together to prevent and heal from youth violence.

Posted March 31, 2026

Too often, communities are shaped by a painful and urgent reality, the tension they experience after a child is lost to violence. In moments like these, I find myself wrestling with how to show up authentically, drawing from all three parts of who I am. I write as a mother, carrying the emotional weight that comes with the loss of any child. I write as a clinician, understanding the profound and lasting impact trauma has on children, families, and entire communities. And I write as someone shaped by my upbringing, with lived experiences that inform how I see risk, resilience, and the conditions that either protect or endanger our youth. Holding these identities at once is not easy, but it is necessary if we are to fully understand and meaningfully respond to the tension and pain that follow when communities are left grieving the loss of a child.

In the aftermath of these tragedies, responses come quickly and from every direction. Agencies mobilize, each wanting to help resolve the violence. Community members debate how to address safety. Citizens demand answers. Clinicians stand ready to support families navigating trauma. And parents, understandably, begin to question whether it is safe to allow their children the simple freedom of being children, going out, playing, and existing without constant supervision. I find myself trying to make sense of it all, blending personal narrative with professional insight and community observation in the wake of tragedy in Champaign County, Illinois.

I am hurt every time a child is lost. There is no professional lens that softens that reality. When children harm other children, my response is layered, both emotional and clinical. It takes me back to what I know, not just from training, but from lived experience. I know what it means to grow up in an environment where safety is not always guaranteed. I also know the difference that consistent adult presence can make. My parents, along with other adults in my community, created a buffer, one that did not eliminate risk but softened it. Just as important was the role of peer connection, belonging, and structured engagement. Research summarized by the American Psychological Association highlights that supportive adult relationships and social connectedness are critical protective factors in child development, particularly in environments where adversity is more likely. This is when we, as a community, must turn to organizations that use data to demonstrate what effectively reduces violence among children.

The Impact of Community-Based Programs

In East Cleveland, where I attended school, I witnessed firsthand the high-risk factors that can surround children. One of my clearest early memories is of peers participating in the East Cleveland Police Athletic League (PAL) program, which offered structure, mentorship, and identity building through sports. There was buy-in from parents and schools. Children were not just kept busy; they were given purpose. They were seen. For many of my peers, that program was more than an activity. It was a protective factor, keeping them engaged, connected, and, in many cases, off the streets and out of harm’s way. National data from the Afterschool Alliance and the Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention reinforce what I witnessed: Structured, community-based programs can significantly reduce risk behaviors and improve outcomes for youth.

That memory stays with me, especially now.

When I am asked, “What can we do to stop child violence?” my answer is rarely simple. But one truth stands out: We cannot address complex community issues while functioning in silos. I see and appreciate efforts happening today, including programs that reflect the kind of structure and support I witnessed as a child. These efforts matter. They are necessary. But they must also be sustained, collaborative, and intentional if they are to truly make a difference. Tragedy often brings urgency, but what communities need is consistency, through sustained, trauma-informed mental health care, community-based support systems, and intentional spaces where children and families can safely process grief and begin to heal.

Community-based support systems can take many forms, but the most effective ones share common elements: structure, belonging, and engagement of both youth and caregivers. I see this reflected in organizations such as Don Moyer Boys & Girls Club and DREAAM in Champaign County. These programs align with evidence-based practices shown to reduce youth violence exposure. Their outcomes are measurable. For example, the Don Moyer Boys & Girls Club reports that a majority of participating youth are engaged in community service (75 percent) and demonstrate strong values (89 percent), while DREAAM’s HOPE Program, as reported by local data, has shown a significant reduction in youth violent crime. These results remind us that when communities invest intentionally and collaboratively in their children, meaningful change is not only possible, it is measurable.

Community leadership also plays a critical role in shaping how we respond. In Urbana, leadership has publicly acknowledged the impact of youth violence and the urgency of addressing it through both community-based and systemic efforts. These responses matter. They signal awareness and a willingness to engage. At the same time, they highlight a deeper truth: Meaningful change requires not only acknowledgment, but sustained, coordinated action across systems that directly touch the lives of children and families. This includes investing in trauma-informed mental health care and ensuring that children and families have access to spaces where they can process grief collectively. Research from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention emphasizes that preventing youth violence requires comprehensive approaches that address individual, relational, and community-level factors.

Communities can begin to heal and prevent further tragedy by:

• Prioritizing early and sustained mental health support in schools and neighborhoods
• Strengthening partnerships across schools, community organizations, and mental health providers
• Investing in evidence-based youth programming that fosters structure and belonging
• Creating safe spaces for dialogue where children feel seen and supported
• Supporting trauma-informed training for educators, law enforcement, and community leaders
• Committing to long-term prevention efforts, rather than short-term, crisis-driven responses

In practice, this means ensuring early intervention in schools, building strong partnerships across systems, and sustaining programs that promote connection, resilience, and emotional regulation long after the immediate crisis has passed. What I learned as a child, and what research continues to affirm, is that children are not simply shaped by individual choices, but by the environments that surround them. The answers we are searching for are not entirely new. They require us to invest in what we already know works, to collaborate rather than compete, and to remain committed even when the urgency of tragedy fades. As a mother, I want children to be safe. As a clinician, I understand what supports that safety. And as someone shaped by my childhood, I have seen firsthand what is possible when communities choose to show up, consistently and collectively, for their children.

Read the original article on Psychology Today →