Recently, the movement around police-free schools has spread like wildfire, and right now Chicago is engulfed in its flames. Chicago Public Schools (CPS) students have spoken — we’re done with Chicago Police Department (CPD) officers being inserted into our schools. We know we’re speaking our truth, but too often, it feels like nobody is listening.
I’m a young, unapologetic Latina girl living on the South Side of Chicago. I’m a junior at George Washington High School, where 90% of our demographic is Hispanic, and I’m the student representative on our Local School Council (LSC) this year.
Many LSCs across Chicago have been in the process of deciding to keep or remove Student Resource Officers (SROs), which, honestly, is just a sugar-coated way of saying police. Students have been pushing CPS to remove police from our schools since they only further criminalize youth of color. Police in school have a clear record of discrimination, specifically against Black students and students with disabilities. (Editor’s note: Out of more than 70 CPS schools, at least 19 LSCs have voted to keep police in their schools).
Currently, Black students make up 35.9% of all CPS students, yet 65.7% were the subject of police notifications (2011-2018); students with Individualized Education Programs (IEPs) make up only 15% of the CPS population, but more than 30% of police incidents involve these students. (Source: #CopsOutCPS Report).
We aren’t protecting and caring for our Black students, and that’s a problem. Not only is racism a clear factor in this discussion, but with it comes serious adultism. Adults are refusing to acknowledge the voices of young Black and Brown people when we say how having CPD in schools makes us feel unsafe and afraid. It doesn’t matter if we’re calm and collected or if we’re screaming from the top of our lungs: they dismiss what we’re saying because of their ideals.
Being a student advocate for my school’s movement (shameless self-promo: follow @CPDoutofGW on Instagram) and a member of my school’s LSC, I’ve well-experienced people trying to exclude me from this conversation. Adults in my community are trying to suppress a vocal, passionate youth who is fighting for racial justice.
Adult community members constantly repeat that I, the student representative on the LSC, am “not allowed” to vote in the SRO decision, despite the LSC stating that I would be able to vote early on in the process. They try to erase me from the conversation, even with knowing that policies state I’m allowed to vote and what they’re saying is incorrect. Constantly being torn down, be it fact or fiction, cuts deep. It hurts knowing that my neighbors don’t stand by me and want to shut me down as I fight against the injustices our Black and Brown youth face.