We collect data on test scores, attendance and graduation rates. But we have no idea how many children have a parent behind bars. Why? 

In Arizona, many young people are growing up with a parent in prison or jail, yet we have no clear idea how many. That’s because our state does not collect this data. There is no system in place to estimate how many children are affected by parental incarceration. This gap doesn’t protect them; it leaves them without recognition or the support they may need. Many state agencies, such as schools and child welfare programs, utilize data to understand which children may need additional resources. Without being able to see the scope of parental incarceration, Arizona can not adequately deliver support or services to these children. This is not just about counting children of incarcerated parents, but acknowledging a vulnerable population that has been left out of the conversation for way too long. 

When a parent is incarcerated, the child often pays a hidden sentence. These children are more likely to face out-of-home placements, socioeconomic disadvantage, mental health problems, and more. Research suggests that they’re even at a higher risk of becoming system-involved themselves. Not because it “runs in the family” as it’s often assumed, but because they are simply experiencing overwhelming stress, increasing anti-social behaviors — such as aggression, substance use or impulsive decision-making. 

Criminologists call this type of stress that children of incarcerated parents feel strain. Robert Agnew’s Strain Theory explains that when individuals, especially youth, experience high levels of stress or pressure, it can lead to an increased development of harmful coping mechanisms. Without the proper support and care, these youth may disengage from school, act out or face silent emotional struggles. 

This theory is especially relevant in Arizona, where communities are already grappling with high incarceration rates. When a child’s parent is incarcerated, they are not just losing a parent, they are losing stability. These children are experiencing family disruption, financial insecurity, social stigma, and emotional stress all at once. Without understanding the scope of this issue, we are missing critical opportunities for early intervention to disrupt harmful cycles before stress leads to damaging behaviors or deeper involvement in the justice system. 

Other states have already started making efforts to begin collecting this data. Minnesota has implemented the Minnesota Student Survey (MSS), which has collected anonymous survey data from youth since 1989 on various topics ranging from school performance to health and safety. In 2013, the interagency team administering the survey added a question that asked, “Have any of your parents or guardians ever been in jail or prison?” 

That one question made it possible to begin collecting data that helps these kids. It didn’t require a massive overhaul of data systems, just a commitment to visibility. Arizona could follow this lead by creating a simple, anonymous way to collect similar information across schools, probation programs and youth-serving agencies. This is about taking the first small, intentional step toward recognizing a population that has been invisible for too long. With this data, schools and youth agencies could more effectively develop tailored programming, offer support groups and allocate mental health resources. It’s about meeting kids where they are, instead of leaving them to navigate their trauma alone. We may be behind, but we can begin the work now by asking one compassionate question and recognizing that these kids exist.

A critical factor of this process is the collection of anonymous data. We do not want to label youth and produce unnecessary stigma, but we need to start hearing their voices. These kids are not background noise in someone else’s incarceration sentence. They deserve attention, investment, and care. That all begins in understanding the scope of these needs. 

We can’t support kids we refuse to see. Counting children of incarcerated parents isn’t just data. It’s dignity, healing, and prevention.

Sasha Kuhl is a doctoral student in the School of Criminology and Criminal Justice at Arizona State University and a member of the Youth Justice Laboratory.