In Texas, the cry “they took our babies” has become an all-too-familiar refrain within Black communities. Behind that cry is a haunting truth—Black families are disproportionately targeted by Child Protective Services (CPS). From the initial knock on the door to the long road through courtrooms and foster care, the system has become a pipeline that often tears Black families apart under the guise of protection.
State data shows that while Black children make up less than 12% of the child population in Texas, they represent over 27% of all CPS investigations. They are removed from their homes at higher rates, remain in foster care longer, and are less likely to be reunified with their families. The numbers paint a picture of systemic bias—one that generations of activists have long warned about.
The trauma runs deep. Parents speak of being accused without evidence, of losing their children over issues tied to poverty—not abuse. In some cases, the removal stems from housing instability, unpaid bills, or allegations that lack thorough investigation. Once children are placed in foster care, the psychological toll impacts the entire family—especially the child, who may bounce between strangers, schools, and homes for years.
For many, the system’s failures echo the historical fractures of slavery and Jim Crow—eras where Black families were legally and violently separated. Today’s removals may wear a bureaucratic mask, but they often leave the same scars.
“This isn’t child protection, it’s family destruction,” says Angela Riley, a Houston-based community advocate and founder of Protect Black Families TX. “We’ve documented case after case where the state stepped in not to help, but to punish.”
Activists across Texas are demanding change. They’re pushing for culturally competent caseworkers, independent oversight, and policies that prioritize family preservation over separation. Grassroots organizations have launched legal clinics, support groups, and emergency housing programs to help families avoid the system altogether.
In Dallas, a recent lawsuit alleges racial discrimination in CPS practices, adding legal pressure to what has long been a moral and political battle. Meanwhile, some state lawmakers are calling for a complete overhaul of the agency, including reallocating funds toward community-based services and prevention—not surveillance.
For now, families continue to fight an uphill battle. Mothers like Tameka Johnson of Beaumont are still waiting to see their children again after what began as a routine welfare check. “They didn’t see a mother doing her best,” she says through tears. “They saw a stereotype.”
As Texas reconsiders the future of child welfare, one truth remains: if justice is to be served, the voices of those most impacted—Black parents, grandparents, and children—must not only be heard but honored.
