Recent data published by AL.com shows that several counties in Alabama’s Black Belt region have the highest per capita rates of children in foster care in the state. Nearly 6,000 children were reported in foster care statewide as of early February. Counties such as Hale, Perry, and Greene, all located in one of Alabama’s poorest and most rural regions, rank among the highest when adjusted for population.

The numbers are not insignificant. But they demand deeper examination.

The reporting connects higher foster care rates to poverty, citing nationwide studies showing that impoverished communities experience higher removal rates and that children of color are disproportionately impacted. It also references prior reports suggesting that behavior concerns were among the leading reasons for entry into foster care in Alabama.

What remains unanswered is whether poverty itself is being addressed or punished.

Alabama law defines neglect as the failure to provide adequate food, clothing, shelter, education, medical treatment, or supervision. What the statute does not clearly distinguish is the difference between intentional maltreatment and conditions created by economic hardship.

Several states across the country have amended their statutes to clarify that poverty alone does not constitute neglect. Alabama has not made that distinction explicit.

If counties with the highest poverty rates also have the highest foster care rates, the question becomes unavoidable. Are we responding to poverty with removal instead of support?

Removal is expensive. Foster care placements, case management, court oversight, transportation, and contracted services require significant public funding. Yet the cost of housing stabilization, food assistance, utility support, or targeted in home services is rarely part of the same public conversation.

If a family lacks adequate housing, is the response removal or rental assistance?

If a parent struggles with childcare due to employment instability, is the response investigation or support?

If behavior issues are cited as a reason for removal, what preventative mental health services were made available before separation occurred?

The current data presents numbers. What it does not present are reunification rates in those counties, length of time children remain in care, the proportion of cases driven primarily by poverty related conditions, the ratio of preventative services to removals, or staffing levels in high removal counties.

Without that context, statistics risk reinforcing a narrative that poor communities are inherently unsafe rather than asking whether public policy is reinforcing instability.

Shelby County, one of the wealthiest counties in Alabama, reports among the lowest foster care rates per capita. The contrast raises additional questions. Is child safety fundamentally different, or is economic stability influencing intervention thresholds?

These are not accusations. They are policy questions.

Are we addressing instability, or are we managing outcomes by separating children from their families and labeling it protection?

Removal is not neutral. It is not administrative. It is a state action with lifelong consequences. It disrupts attachment, fractures identity, destabilizes communities, and leaves trauma that does not disappear when a case is closed.

When the highest removal rates are concentrated in the poorest counties, that is not coincidence. It reflects a policy pattern.

If the numbers tell a story, then we must confront whether we are addressing root causes or defaulting to the most disruptive intervention available.

Managing poverty by removing children is not reform. It is institutional failure.

And children should not carry the weight of that failure.