A few years ago I was sitting opposite a young guy I had worked with for quite a while, in a youth justice detention centre, after he had been refused bail again. Youth justice was still new to me and, honestly, it looked exactly like the movies: cold, clinical, cameras everywhere, and people watching your every move. After a few visits I asked him, “Aren’t you scared to come back here? Because I’ll be honest, I would be.”
He shrugged. “Nah, you get mad munchies and mini Lynx body wash in here, Miss. It’s sick.”
I am grateful I had the privilege of that conversation. It has stayed with me, and it has shaped my commitment to doing better for the young people who need me to.
Sometimes I think we misunderstand what it means when a young person keeps returning to youth justice.
For some kids, detention may provide things life outside has not reliably offered: three meals, a mattress, routine, predictable expectations, and adults who know where they are.
That is confronting.
It does not mean detention is good for them. It means we need to ask harder questions about what they are returning to.
When a young person has experienced trauma, unstable placements, disrupted relationships, poverty, disability, or years of adults responding to behaviour without understanding what sits underneath it, telling them to “make better choices” is never going to be enough.
Young people in youth justice and out of home care need us to understand their needs properly. We need better assessment, better data, stronger relationships, and systems that understand why behaviour develops, rather than only responding once things go wrong.
The goal should not just be keeping a young person out of detention.
It should be creating a life outside that is safer, more connected, and actually worth returning to. I do not think we need to be trained clinicians to transform lives. Sometimes it takes a human being willing to sit opposite with an open mind and a curious ear.
