Her lived experience reveals what Kentucky’s family data misses

Based on recent fed­er­al data, Kentucky ranks among the states with the high­est report­ed rates of child abuse. That’s the head­line. But it rais­es a deep­er question.

Where are the sto­ries behind it?

Where is the sto­ry of the Appalachian fam­i­ly whose sta­bil­i­ty unrav­eled across gen­er­a­tions after the col­lapse of the coal economy?

Where is the sto­ry of the par­ent pulled into the opi­oid cri­sis, mis­led by sys­tems we now open­ly acknowl­edge failed?

Where is the sto­ry of the fam­i­ly dis­placed by floods or tor­na­does, try­ing to rebuild with­out sta­ble hous­ing, child­care, or transportation?

Where is the sto­ry of the moth­er nav­i­gat­ing preg­nan­cy while expe­ri­enc­ing domes­tic vio­lence, mak­ing impos­si­ble deci­sions with lit­tle support?

We rarely hear these sto­ries. Instead, we hear num­bers. Rankings. Reports.

And over time, those num­bers begin to shape a nar­ra­tive that feels incom­plete at best and mis­lead­ing at worst. It becomes easy to believe that cer­tain com­mu­ni­ties sim­ply have worse out­comes, rather than ask­ing what con­di­tions cre­at­ed those out­comes in the first place.

In Clark County, where pre­ven­tion efforts have been specif­i­cal­ly tar­get­ed due to high­er fos­ter care place­ment rates, the data reflects this pat­tern at a local lev­el. But even there, num­bers alone can­not explain what fam­i­lies are actu­al­ly experiencing.

I have spent years work­ing along­side Kentucky sys­tems, agen­cies, fam­i­ly-serv­ing orga­ni­za­tions, and lead­ers. I have con­tributed to statewide ini­tia­tives, sat at deci­sion-mak­ing tables, and worked with­in the very sys­tems designed to sup­port families.

And I see some­thing miss­ing. Not effort. Not intention.

Voice.

Across our sys­tems, we rely heav­i­ly on insti­tu­tion­al data. Reports are writ­ten. Surveys are con­duct­ed. Programs are eval­u­at­ed. But too often, the peo­ple liv­ing the con­se­quences of these sys­tems are not mean­ing­ful­ly shap­ing the narrative.

When they are includ­ed, it is often after deci­sions are already made. Their sto­ries are shared, but not pre­served. Their input is gath­ered, but not always reflect­ed. And when com­mu­ni­ty voice is fil­tered through insti­tu­tions alone, some­thing impor­tant gets lost.

I am not speak­ing from a distance.

I’m a mom. I have a child in preschool and two in ele­men­tary school. We use pub­lic ser­vices. We attend com­mu­ni­ty events. We show up in the spaces where fam­i­lies are sup­posed to be supported.

And I reg­u­lar­ly hear suc­cess sto­ries. I hear about strong pro­grams. Positive out­comes. Community engagement.

But what I see and expe­ri­ence in the com­mu­ni­ty does not always match that narrative.

I have seen com­mu­ni­ty feed­back col­lect­ed from a small group of par­tic­i­pants pre­sent­ed as if it rep­re­sents an entire pop­u­la­tion. I have seen sur­veys con­duct­ed where respons­es are nev­er shared back with the peo­ple who gave them. I have sat in rooms where sys­tems talk about engage­ment while acknowl­edg­ing they do not know how to reach the fam­i­lies who nev­er show up in the first place.

Because the truth is this.

The peo­ple we hear from are not the full sto­ry. We are mea­sur­ing engage­ment. But we are not mea­sur­ing who is missing.

State data shows tens of thou­sands of reports made to child pro­tec­tive ser­vices each year, with only a por­tion ulti­mate­ly sub­stan­ti­at­ed. At the same time, courts across coun­ties con­tin­ue to see a steady flow of abuse and neglect cas­es mov­ing through the sys­tem month after month.

This is not a one-time spike. It is a sus­tained pattern.

And yet, much of the pub­lic nar­ra­tive still cen­ters on out­comes with­out ful­ly account­ing for the con­di­tions dri­ving them or the expe­ri­ences of the fam­i­lies nav­i­gat­ing them.

When we ele­vate only select­ed voic­es, espe­cial­ly those who have pos­i­tive expe­ri­ences or align with insti­tu­tion­al nar­ra­tives, we cre­ate an incom­plete ver­sion of com­mu­ni­ty voice.

And when that incom­plete nar­ra­tive becomes the foun­da­tion for deci­sion-mak­ing, gaps form.

Gaps between what is report­ed and what is real.
Gaps between what is mea­sured and what is expe­ri­enced.
Gaps between what fam­i­lies need and what sys­tems believe is working.

It is time for a change.

If we are seri­ous about strength­en­ing fam­i­lies and com­mu­ni­ties, we need to do more than improve how we tell the sto­ry. We need to change how the sto­ry is built.

That means:

• Creating inde­pen­dent ways for com­mu­ni­ty expe­ri­ence to be col­lect­ed out­side of insti­tu­tion­al control.
• Recognizing lived expe­ri­ence as a form of data, not just a sto­ry to be shared.
• Identifying pat­terns across fam­i­lies, not just high­light­ing indi­vid­ual suc­cess cases.
• Ensuring that infor­ma­tion flows back to com­mu­ni­ties, not just upward into systems.

Because the bal­lot box is only one part of democ­ra­cy. Democracy also depends on whether peo­ple have a real voice in the sys­tems that shape their lives.

Right now, too many fam­i­lies are still speak­ing into spaces where their expe­ri­ences are fil­tered, reshaped, or nev­er ful­ly heard. If we want bet­ter out­comes, we need a fuller story.

And that sto­ry has to come direct­ly from the peo­ple liv­ing it.

Watch Valerie’s TED Talk, “Authority is Lived, Not Given,” now.