OP-ED: Strengthening the Baltimore Children and Youth Fund must come from a place of shared vision, not suspicion

When the Baltimore Children and Youth Fund was established in 2016, it wasn’t just another initiative; it was a response to the historic neglect of youth and grassroots organizations in our city. I remember it because I was there. I’ve spent my life working in many of Baltimore’s communities, supporting young people and community-led programs, and I know firsthand why BCYF was built the way it was: to shift power. To put resources in the hands of those closest to the work. And to ensure Baltimore’s youth didn’t just get charity, they got investment.

That’s why this moment is deeply disappointing.

I’ve read the recent reports and the newly proposed legislation with both humility and concern. I agree, there must be transparency. There must be performance audits. There must be clear, accessible accounting for every dollar that flows through BCYF. I serve as board chair because I believe in the importance of accountability. I don’t shy away from tough questions or critique. In fact, I welcome them. But this legislation undermines several core elements of BCYF’s founding vision:

• Technical Assistance Cuts: The proposed reduction and restrictions on TA would directly result in staff layoffs and weaken our ability to support grassroots organizations, especially those led by Black and brown communities that BCYF was explicitly designed to uplift.
• Erosion of Community Review: The changes to the public engagement budget essentially dismantle the participatory grantmaking process — a key equity strategy and point of trust with our community partners.
• Diminished Youth Voice: Reducing youth board representation from one third to one quarter, and removing the waiver provision, signals a retreat from youth leadership at a moment when our young people deserve more power — not less.
• Governance Burden Without Support: Expanding board membership while restricting operational funding puts the organization at risk of being overstretched and under-resourced.

But what I don’t welcome is the narrative that suggests BCYF is playing fast and loose with public dollars, or that investment in the growth and learning of our city’s youth leaders is somehow wasteful. That framing is not only unfair but also dangerous.

A yoga session at a professional convening is easy to mock in a headline. A dinner after 12-hour days of training and relationship-building is easy to question when isolated in a FOIA request. But what’s harder to capture in a few lines is the national visibility our organizations gained at South by Southwest EDU. The curriculum models we brought back. The real connections to national funders who are now in conversation with Baltimore-based groups. That’s the work that doesn’t make the front page, but it matters. Our city’s youth need more than check writing. They need leadership equipped to bring home resources, policy tools, and best practices that can outlast any one grant cycle.

BCYF has provided tens of millions of dollars to local organizations, many of which had never received public funding. It has nurtured leadership, funded violence prevention, supported youth employment, and backed neighborhood-based education and wellness initiatives. I have seen firsthand the impact of BCYF investments, from youth leaders launching research initiatives with Youth As Resources, to neighborhood programs creating safe spaces through the Tendea Family, to empowering young men and boys to navigate life with purpose through the Rites of Passage Project. These organizations weren’t just funded, they were trusted. That trust allows them to grow, serve, and lead in ways that traditional funding systems don’t support. BCYF isn’t just about grants; it’s about recognizing the power, wisdom, and innovation already present in our communities, and finally providing the resources they deserve.

Still, that doesn’t mean we get a pass. We need to be better at communicating the “why” behind our decisions. We need stronger infrastructure for reporting and evaluation. And we need clearer policy guardrails to ensure public trust. I’m committed to that, and so is the board.

But what I’m not willing to do is allow this narrative to turn a public trust into a political punching bag.

It’s disappointing that the legislation introduced on September 29 by Councilmembers Parker, Cohen, Bullock, and Blanchard comes not as the result of collaborative review or shared inquiry, but largely in response to media reports. That’s not governance — it’s reaction. And if we truly want to strengthen BCYF, we must do so from a place of shared vision, not suspicion.

We must also be careful not to erase the reason behind BCYF’s founding. The fact that it exists outside of city government was intentional. It was intended to circumvent the very bureaucracy that, for decades, had prevented small, Black-led, and community-rooted organizations from accessing meaningful support. Are there things to improve? Without a doubt. But let’s not use regulations to water down a model built to correct inequity.

We can have transparency without undermining purpose. We can improve systems without distorting legacy. We can — and must — hold each other accountable without leaning on politics and perception alone.

Baltimore’s young people are watching. They don’t just need us to fight about the money. They need us to stay committed to why we fought for it in the first place.

Larry C. Simmons Jr. is a West Baltimore resident, a longtime youth and community advocate in Baltimore, a Baltimore City School Board Commissioner, and currently serves as Board Chair of the Baltimore Children and Youth Fund. He is also a Senior Fellow at Attendance Works and supports youth-led narrative and policy change through the Nobody Asked Me Campaign and Research Team as the Director of Community Engagement.