Fear Gets Billions. Belonging Gets Leftovers. What If We Flipped That?

Marcus F
Apr 24
7 min read

Every year, the headlines return—and so does the recycled fear. The same calls for curfews. The same demands for more enforcement. But here’s the truth: our young people aren’t the problem. Disconnection is. Disinvestment is. The absence of consistent, caring spaces is. And beneath all of that? The absence of real coordination—the glue that could hold these pieces together.

So here’s a radical idea: What if every young person in this city had somewhere to go where they felt like they mattered? Not just the “high-achievers” who ace scholarship applications. Not just the ones who “stay out of trouble.” All of them.

What if the City of Big Shoulders used its strength to lift up its youth? There’s a quote that has stuck with me:

“We cannot love our children and refuse to fight for them.”

But fighting for them doesn’t look like more squad cars. It looks like showing up—with resources, with time, with care. Not just good vibes and speeches—infrastructure. Because blaming kids for the systems that failed them is America’s favorite sport. But if failure had a face, it wouldn’t be a 16-year-old hanging out downtown. It would be the long line of adults who keep writing checks for punishment while pinching pennies for possibility.

What If We Actually Funded Belonging?

At a recent citywide youth gathering, one of my teen interns said something that hit me hard:

“These spaces give us a safe space to fail.”

Imagine that—a system where every young person knows they have a place to go after school that welcomes them and gives them a space where they can fail safely, dream boldly, and be surrounded by adults who show up consistently, not conditionally. What would it actually take to create these spaces—not for some, but for all? It would take more than individual programs or well-meaning pilots. It would take intentional, funded coordination—a system designed to connect spaces, staffing, and support into something young people can actually count on.

Back in the early 2010s, I worked on a regional initiative to build the infrastructure needed to increase youth enrollment in out-of-school time (OST) programming. The goal was simple: bring together youth, community leaders, organizations, and employers to strengthen youth employment and enrichment across Chicago. The initiative served as a platform where young people and community voices shaped the policies and opportunities that impact their lives.

Two of our core goals were:

Foster collaboration between community-based organizations, employers, city agencies, and young people to expand access to quality work-based learning experiences.
Identify and address the barriers that prevent equitable access to jobs and career readiness—especially for youth from under-resourced communities.

There was one thing we realized as true:

We Already Have the Buildings.

The truth was, and still is, we already have the buildings. What’s missing is the coordinated will, and the funding, to connect these resources into an actual ecosystem of care. Because programs alone aren’t enough. Buildings alone aren’t enough. Leadership alone isn’t enough. Coordination is what makes these parts a system—not a scatterplot.

In the 60628 (Roseland/Pullman) and 60643 (Morgan Park/Beverly) zip codes alone, there are approximately 190 churches. According to the Roseland Civic Engagement Study, led by Robert Douglas at UIC’s Institute for Policy and Civic Engagement, these faith-based institutions aren’t just abundant—they’re among the most trusted anchors in these neighborhoods. Often more so than many social service agencies.

These aren’t just spaces for worship on Sundays. They are community pillars, already positioned to play a central role in building consistent, safe spaces for youth.

The study lifts up an essential truth: real change comes from the ground up—from community-led solutions driven by local leadership and grassroots energy. Organizations like the ones highlighted in Douglas’s research, show how civic engagement and youth development thrive when they’re grown from within the community.

But the churches aren’t the only untapped resource.

Across these same two zip codes, there are 13 Chicago Park District facilities—public spaces that could easily be hubs for youth programming. But many close early in the evenings and have limited or no weekend hours. You know—the exact times when young people aren’t in school and need spaces the most.

And the city has already invested in 17 youth-serving organizations in these neighborhoods through its Delegate Agency program. These groups are already providing programming, already building trust, already showing up. The leadership exists. The infrastructure exists.

So here’s the real question: what if these 17 organizations didn’t just run their own isolated programs—but became the connective tissue across the neighborhood? What if we funded coordination as seriously as we fund enforcement? What if these trusted community organizations were empowered to not only provide programs, but to manage the staffing, logistics, and operational backbone that true consistency requires? What if all the churches (and frankly, the Park District facilities too) had to do was open the doors?

No scramble for volunteers. No extra burden on church staff. Just shared resources, shared staffing, and shared accountability led by the folks already doing the work.

If even half of these churches opened their doors just 2–3 days a week for afterschool programming, we could engage over 2,850 youth weekly—in just these two zip codes alone.

Of course, this kind of infrastructure doesn’t run on goodwill alone. It takes investment. Based on conservative estimates, offering high-quality out-of-school time programming to 2,850 young people would require about $5.7 million annually for program delivery—the cost of trained staff, enrichment activities, and supplies to make these spaces truly engaging and consistent. Add another $5.7 million for transportation, because access means nothing if young people can’t physically get there. Healthy meals would require approximately $2.1 million, because a kid can’t focus on leadership skills when they’re running on an empty stomach. And finally, the administrative backbone—the coordination across sites, staffing oversight, and quality assurance—would add about $1.7 million more.

All told, the investment to activate this neighborhood-wide ecosystem of care would land around $15.2 million a year. But that number isn’t just about programming—it’s the cost of what makes programming sustainable. It’s the cost of coordination. It’s what it takes to move from pop-up efforts to a lasting, reliable system of care.

Now, before anyone gasps at that number, here’s some perspective: Chicago’s policing budget is $1.9 billion annually—enough to fund this youth-centered investment more than 120 times over. Meanwhile, the top four educational testing companies rake in $2 billion a year, spending $20 million lobbying to make sure our students keep taking tests instead of gaining opportunities. The U.S. prison system? That machine eats up $70–80 billion annually, with private prison companies spending millions to keep incarceration policies firmly in place.

This isn’t about scarcity. It’s about priority.

We’re not short on buildings. We’re not short on leaders. We’re not short on opportunity. We're short on coordination. On investment. On choosing connection over control. Because coordination is prevention. Coordination is safety. Coordination is care, scaled.

The bones of this ecosystem already exist—we just keep refusing to fund the glue. And that glue is called coordination.

Because here’s the thing: belonging takes infrastructure. Consistency takes payroll. Connection takes coordination. Safe spaces don’t run on vibes alone.

As Douglas’s research reminds us: the solutions are already here—in our communities, in our leaders, in the spaces we’ve had all along. The only question left is whether we have the courage and commitment to invest—not just in programs, but in the coordination that makes those programs work.

Youth Need More Than 8 to 3. Always Have.

High-quality Out-of-School Time (OST) programming is not an add-on. It’s not a luxury. It’s essential.

It’s where young people apply what they learn. Where they explore what school may not teach. Where leadership is practiced, creativity is nurtured, and healing is possible. It’s where they go from being managed to being mentored. And, as my intern reminded me, it’s where they find the "safe space to fail."

If we only fund learning from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., we are failing to meet the reality of how, when, and where young people grow. And if we want those spaces to be consistent, safe, and truly welcoming, we can’t just fund the programs. We have to fund the coordination that makes them possible.

We know what it takes to support young people—not just from theory, but from hard evidence. In fact, we’ve already seen what happens when we choose connection over control, care over punishment. The question isn’t whether supportive, coordinated approaches work, the question is why we keep refusing to scale them.

Facts Don’t Care About Your Tough-on-Youth Policies

Chicago Public Schools’ experience tells the story:

76% reduction in out-of-school suspensions (2013–2019), thanks to restorative justice practices like peace circles, mediation, and trauma-informed supports.
Significant drops in expulsions after moving away from zero-tolerance policies.
Schools that removed School Resource Officers (SROs) reported no increase in serious safety incidents—some saw discipline issues decline (Chalkbeat Chicago, 2023).

The data is clear: care, connection, and conflict resolution outperform control and punishment. The success of restorative practices in schools offers a direct blueprint for how we can approach youth development beyond the classroom. Just as peace circles and mediation create space for students to reflect, repair, and grow within school walls, high-quality out-of-school spaces can offer young people the same grace—the opportunity to practice, make mistakes, learn, and try again. These 'safe spaces to fail' are not only healing—they are essential for real growth, leadership development, and long-term success.

If all we offer young people is criticism and control, we can’t be surprised when they create their own spaces to feel seen. Blame won’t build futures. But partnership will. Accountability will. Love, as action, as policy, as investment, will. Or, as Dr. Cornel West says: