Good Parenting Matters, There are No Short Cuts and No Do Overs

By Prentiss Smith
March 30, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

Parenting has always been a difficult proposition. It was a hard job when my parents were trying to raise my siblings and me in the fifties, sixties, and early seventies. It was a hard job for my wife and me when we were trying to raise our four children at the end of the last century and the beginning of this new century. Make no mistake about it, raising children is a job, and there is no substitute for good parenting. Good parenting matters, and there are no shortcuts or do overs.  

Some people may take exception to that notion, but for anyone who has sat up with a sick child late at night or helped with homework; or tried to be at every school function, you certainly know what I am talking about. There is a myriad of things that come up when you are raising children. The truth is that good parenting matters, there is no substitute for loving and committed parents, who make their children the main focus. At the end of the day, it is hard work, but it is rewarding work.
 

The situation with a lot of children today is parents and their lack of parenting skills. I say that with the full knowledge that there are a lot of wonderful parents who are raising their children well and trying to do the right thing. They are doing it in an environment that is not necessarily "kid friendly." The proliferation of sex and violence on television, in video games, in movies, and on the internet has made an already difficult job even more difficult. There is no substitute for good parenting. Turn off the television and take away the electronics. It may be hard, but it works. 

The reality is that the children of this generation and the previous generation see too much and know too much. There are six- and seven-year-old children today who know more than my contemporaries and I knew when we were in high school. That is the nature of the world we live in today. The television, video games, and the internet have become our babysitters.  Young impressionable minds are easily influenced, especially if there is not a responsible adult in the mix to monitor and screen the things that they see and hear.  
 

When I was growing up on the north side of Ruston, everybody had a mother and a father or an uncle or an aunt who was willing to co-parent children in the neighborhood. There were very few exceptions.  And if you did not have a mother or a father, the community at large would become your mother and father.  People cared for each other and for each other’s kids. The village was in full force, and it encouraged community relationships that last. 

That is just not the case today. It seems as though everyone is out for themselves and the young girl down the street with the three children out of wedlock, be damned.  Nobody has any money. And nobody has any time for someone else’s “bad ass” kids. That is the reality that we are dealing with today. It is a bleak picture, but sadly, it is true.

Children require many things, but they mostly require committed parents--a mother and a father who love them and will give them the love and discipline--and I emphasize discipline, that will help them become responsible individuals and good citizens. It is hard to be a good parent if you have not seen one or been exposed to one.  

It is also hard to be a good parent if you allow your child to think that he or she is your equal, which we see all the time today. They are not your equal and you are not their friend. In my dealings with children, I have found that theocracy with compassion works better than democracy without limitations when it comes to parenting. All of this says that there is no substitute for good parenting. And that’s the way I see it. smithpren@aol.com

By Prentiss Smith
March 15, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

At Louisiana State Penitentiary—better known as Angola—thousands of men labor each day in fields that once held enslaved people. For many, Angola is not a place of rehabilitation but a place where hope goes to die. And for two men, Quontos Wilson and Layla Roberts, Angola has been their home for thirty years—three decades of punishment that far exceeds their youthful mistake.

As young men, Quontos and Layla made a poor decision—reckless, immature, and wrong. But they were not hardened criminals. They were not predators. They were young and foolish, like so many of us once were, except their misstep placed them in the jaws of a justice system that often punishes without proportion.

I remember when this happened, and I thought then, as I do now, that the punishment didn’t fit the crime. My friends and I all thought that these young men had been just thrown away, and we were right. Now, thirty years later, they remain behind bars.

Yes, accountability is necessary. Wrong actions deserve consequences. But punishment must be fair, and justice must be balanced with mercy. Thirty years for a youthful mistake is not justice—it is cruelty.

Governor Jeff Landry has often spoken of his Christian faith, his belief in redemption, and his commitment to second chances. If those convictions are more than political rhetoric, then here is an opportunity to live them out. Pardon Quontos Wilson and Layla Roberts.

The Governor’s office and the Louisiana Board of Pardons and Committee on Parole have the power to correct this injustice. To grant clemency in these cases would not only honor the principles of forgiveness and restoration but would also send a powerful signal that Louisiana is serious about criminal justice reform.

Consider what thirty years means. It means thirty birthdays missed, thirty Christmas mornings without family, and chances to build a life denied. 

While their peers built families, careers, and futures, Quontos and Layla remained locked inside Angola’s gates, paying again and again for the same mistake. At what point does justice become vengeance?

Louisiana’s prison system is the largest per capita in the nation, with Angola as its most infamous symbol. Too many young Black men have been swallowed by its walls, sentenced not only for their crimes but for who they were born to be in a society that metes out punishment unequally. 

Granting clemency for Quontos and Layla will not undo the past. But it can affirm the future. It can demonstrate that our state believes in human dignity, in redemption, in the possibility of change. 

Mercy is not weakness. Mercy is strength—the strength to see humanity even when the law has stripped it away. I know of what I speak because I was given mercy by a tough but fair judge, and I am forever grateful. 

Governor Landry, you hold the power to change the ending of this story. You can demonstrate that Louisiana is not only a place of punishment but also a place of forgiveness. You can show that when justice has been stretched too far, mercy can bring it back into balance.

For thirty years, these men have paid. It is enough. I would ask anyone who is reading this right now to join me in the effort to free these two men, while they have time to still rebuild their lives. It is time to let them live again. And that’s my take. 

By Prentiss Smith
March 1, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

When I was a young man in Shreveport, I applied for a job I knew I was qualified for. Strong scores. Good references. Clean record. The supervisor glanced at my application, then at me, and said, “Son, we’ve already filled the position.” 

Two weeks later, a white classmate with weaker credentials was hired. Nobody raised their voices. Nobody used a slur. In Louisiana, inequity has always been polite — a quiet door closing in your face. 

So, when politicians and school boards today rush to eliminate Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs, I recognize the sound immediately. It’s the same old dog whistle with a modern label. 

Critics claim DEI “undermines merit” or “promotes division.” But history shows something else: whenever marginalized communities begin gaining ground, those in power create new language to stop the momentum. The phrases change. The purpose does not. 

If Louisiana were truly a colorblind meritocracy, the numbers would show it. Instead: 

• Louisiana ranks 49th or 50th in economic opportunity for Black residents. 
• In Caddo Parish, Black workers earn 22% less than white workers for comparable jobs. 
• Black families statewide hold one-seventh the wealth of white families. 
• Public schools in Louisiana remain deeply segregated by race and income. 
• At LSU, Black enrollment is about half of what it should be based on statewide demographics. 

DEI didn’t create these disparities. It exists because these disparities were built into the foundation of this state and allowed for generations to persist. 

Louisiana has always had a way of enforcing inequality without ever admitting it: During the civil rights era, it was about “protecting election integrity.” During school integration, it was “preserving neighborhood schools.” When affirmative action emerged, it became “defending merit.” Today, it’s “eliminating DEI.” Same intent. Softer language. 

A century of inequity wrapped in phrases that sound neutral until you look at the results. 

Caddo Parish shows clearly why DEI isn’t a luxury — it’s a necessity. The school district is nearly 75% Black, yet top leadership and high-wage central office roles remain overwhelmingly white. Black students are suspended at three times the rate of white students for comparable behavior. Gifted, magnet, and AP programs don’t match the talent in our community — they mirror the barriers. In Shreveport, life expectancy in predominantly Black ZIP codes is 15–20 years shorter than in South Shreveport.These are not accidents. They are the predictable outcomes of systems that were never corrected. So, when leaders claim we don’t need DEI, what they’re really saying is: “We’re comfortable with these outcomes. 

The anti-DEI movement didn’t start in Louisiana. But Louisiana is always ready to follow a script that restricts opportunity; national politicians attack DEI, southern legislatures repeat what they say wholesale, and local boards and universities panic and dismantle programs they barely invest in. Supporters say they want “excellence,” but eliminating DEI does not raise standards---it simply removes accountability for unequal outcomes.  

I didn’t grow up with a safety net. I battled mental illness and addiction. I rebuilt my life through effort, recovery, and a long road of hard lessons. But none of that erases what it felt like to be judged first by my race, and only later by my ability — a feeling far too many young Black men in Louisiana still know all too well. 

DEI programs wouldn’t have fixed everything for me as a young man. But they would have made the hill less steep. They would have made opportunities more equitable. And they would’ve forced institutions to confront the biases they preferred to ignore. That’s why so many people of color refuse to stay quiet now. 

The hard truth is that eliminating DEI won’t create fairness. 

It will cement inequality and call it “neutrality.” It will lock the next generation into the same inequities the last one fought to escape.  

Louisiana, and the rest of the country, must decide whether it wants to move toward justice or hide behind the vocabulary of the past. Because in the end, one truth cuts through all the dog whistles: A state or a country that eliminates inclusion has no intention of achieving equality. And that’s my take.  smithpren@aol.com 

By Dr. Kirkpatrick Williams
February 8, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

In today’s fast-moving news environment, journalists are under growing pressure to publish stories quickly while still being accurate and fair. Social media and nonstop news updates have made competition for attention more intense. As a result, dramatic headlines and unverified claims can spread faster than carefully reported facts, making responsible journalism more important than ever.

Good journalism is built on honesty, fairness, and independence. Reporters are expected to check their facts, use reliable sources, explain issues clearly, and avoid language that misleads or stirs unnecessary emotion. These practices help readers understand what is really happening instead of being influenced by rumors or speculation.

Misinformation does more than confuse individual readers. Inaccurate reporting can weaken trust in public institutions, increase political divisions, and damage meaningful public discussion. According to early reports from media watchdog groups, many people say they value accuracy and openness when choosing which news outlets to trust. This shows a growing demand for news that focuses on facts rather than attention-grabbing stories.

Readers also play a role in separating truth from sensationalism. Schools and community programs are working to improve media literacy, helping people learn how to evaluate sources, spot bias, and recognize misleading content. These efforts encourage informed reading and stronger trust between journalists and the public.

As technology continues to change how people get their news, the commitment to truth remains essential. By maintaining strong reporting standards, journalism can continue to inform the public, hold leaders accountable, and support healthy public debate.

By Dr. Kirkpatrick Williams
January 11, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

National news coverage of recent mass shootings has renewed attention on ongoing gun violence in the United States, underscoring persistent concerns among policymakers, law enforcement and communities about public safety.

According to publicly available data from federal and nonprofit tracking organizations, mass shootings continue to occur at a pace that draws frequent national scrutiny. Recent incidents in multiple states have prompted emergency responses, investigations and vigils, while details in several cases remain under review by authorities. Officials have emphasized that information released in the early stages of investigations is often preliminary.

The renewed attention has brought gun policy back into public discussion, particularly as lawmakers prepare for the new legislative session. Advocates on all sides of the issue point to national coverage as evidence of the human and societal costs of gun violence. At the same time, elected officials have noted the complexity of addressing the issue amid differing views on public safety, constitutional rights and enforcement.

Law enforcement agencies have reiterated the challenges of preventing mass violence, citing factors such as illegal firearms access, mental health concerns and the speed at which attacks unfold. Federal agencies continue to support state and local departments through grant programs, intelligence sharing and training initiatives designed to improve threat detection and emergency response.

The impact of mass shootings extends beyond the immediate loss of life. Communities affected by such incidents often face long-term trauma, economic disruption and demands for additional support services. Schools, workplaces and public venues nationwide have increased security measures and emergency preparedness training in response to continued threats.

National coverage has also focused on the role of data collection and reporting in shaping public understanding of gun violence. Experts note that while high-profile mass shootings receive intense attention, they represent only a portion of broader firearm-related deaths, which also include suicides and everyday acts of violence. Accurate reporting and transparent data remain central to informing policy debates.

As investigations into recent shootings continue, federal and state leaders say they are reviewing existing laws and prevention strategies. According to early reports, several committees are expected to revisit gun violence prevention measures in the coming weeks. For now, national attention remains fixed on the issue as communities seek ways to reduce future tragedies and improve public safety. 

By Dr. Kirkpatrick Williams
January 6, 2026 | Editorial Desk 

Recent U.S. involvement in Venezuela underscores the enduring debate over the role of American power in promoting political change abroad. The removal of President Nicolás Maduro, while hailed by some as a step toward restoring democratic governance, raises broader questions about the benefits and consequences of foreign intervention.

Regime change is often framed as a tool to promote stability, human rights, and economic recovery. Supporters argue that removing entrenched authoritarian leaders can open the door for democratic institutions, reduce corruption, and create opportunities for regional partnerships. In theory, successful interventions can enhance U.S. influence and signal a commitment to defending democratic principles on the global stage.

Yet history demonstrates that such actions carry significant risks. Foreign interventions can destabilize nations, produce power vacuums, and place civilians in harm’s way. The logistical, financial, and diplomatic costs are substantial, and poorly planned operations can undermine both the intended objectives and America’s reputation abroad. Beyond strategy, ethical considerations loom large: U.S. engagement in regime change must balance national interests with the responsibility to minimize human suffering.

The recent events in Venezuela highlight the need for careful deliberation. Congress, the executive branch, and international partners must weigh potential gains against long-term consequences, ensuring that any action is legally grounded and strategically sound. Oversight and transparency are essential to maintain public trust while safeguarding both American and regional interests.

Ultimately, the Venezuela episode is a reminder that power carries responsibility. The United States must consider not only what it can achieve through intervention, but also what it should, and how best to support lasting stability. As policymakers review the aftermath, one lesson is clear: regime change is never simple, and the costs; human, political, and financial, must be considered as carefully as the potential rewards.

By Dr. Carla Buntyn
December 21, 2025 | Editorial Desk 

Mental health can play a role in domestic violence, but it is not the sole cause, and it does not excuse violent behavior. Domestic violence has become the nation’s leading public interest. In the state of Louisiana, domestic violence is spiraling as a controversial crime committed by men. Men make up the vast majority of the state’s prison and jail populations, while women represent a small fraction, around 4–6%.

The Louisiana Department of Public Safety & Corrections’ public data dashboards do not break down incarcerated people by specific charges like “domestic violence.” There is no reliable statewide published number specifically listing how many men are incarcerated in Louisiana for domestic violence alone. If we do not have a published number, how do we know if domestic violence is a leading public interest?

Domestic violence often intersects with other societal issues: homelessness, substance abuse, criminal justice involvement, and mental health. According to the Centers for Disease Control, about 1 in 4 women experience severe intimate partner physical violence, while about 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence. Men are more often the perpetrators of severe physical violence, but women also perpetrate abuse, particularly psychological, emotional, and sometimes physical abuse.

Men are typically the aggressors, while women can be psychologically and emotionally abusive. According to the Louisiana Department of Corrections, as of September 30, 2025, there were 29,947 incarcerated individuals in total: 28,114 men and 1,833 women. National and state criminal justice reports often group domestic violence under broader violent offense categories, making it hard to extract a precise count of people incarcerated for domestic violence in Louisiana. Of the incarcerated population, 96.1% are male, 73.2% are Black, and 62.2% are serving time for violent crimes. The African American community is approximately 31.2% of the population in Louisiana.

There are more men incarcerated for domestic violence than women; however, both play a role in violence, males as the aggressors and females as psychological aggressors. How does the state determine the violent crime committed by both genders and who is incarcerated? There are three forms of crime, aggression, deception, and manipulation, that share convictions according to law. Among women, 6.1% of the incarcerated population are women, 64.38% are Black women, and 55.1% are incarcerated for violent crimes. Once again, domestic violence is reported under violent offense categories.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, an estimated 715,000 Louisiana adults have a mental health condition. According to the Louisiana Department of Health, 28% of incarcerated people have mental health issues, with 10% having serious mental health issues. Mental health is typically assessed three times while incarcerated. The numbers of mental health and violent crimes have no direct correlation; however, mental health conditions can affect anger management, frustration tolerance, impulse control, irritability, emotional volatility, impulsivity, difficulty interpreting social cues, and sensory overload.

Men are typically liable for domestic violence because they can inflict serious physical injury. Women may also be liable through verbal, emotional, and psychological aggression. The numbers of violent crimes comparing women and men based on the three crime types do not correlate. Research consistently shows that, on average, women report higher rates of mental health conditions than men. Domestic violence can be a result of underdiagnoses or diagnoses later in the lives of Black women and men in Louisiana. 

By Dr. Carla Buntyn
December 14, 2025 | Editorial Desk 

In the African American community, conversations about oppression, racism, and systemic inequities remain constant. These discussions echo across social media, in churches, barbershops, classrooms, and political spaces. Yet, despite the persistence of these concerns, membership in the NAACP, once the backbone of organized Black resistance, has steadily declined since its height in the 1960s. The question we must ask is not whether racism exists, but whether traditional civil rights organizations are still meeting the needs of the people they claim to represent.

Generational change is often cited as the primary reason for declining membership. Younger Black Americans tend to organize differently, favoring digital activism, grassroots movements, and decentralized leadership over legacy institutions. But this explanation alone feels incomplete. Many Black Americans are politically aware, socially engaged, and outspoken, just not through the NAACP. That disconnect deserves honest examination.

The tension between activism and economic empowerment is not new. Even W.E.B. Du Bois, one of the NAACP’s founders, grew disillusioned with the organization in his later years. He believed it had become dominated by a Black elite and had lost touch with the common Black worker. Du Bois argued that integration without economic power was insufficient, and that true liberation required self-sufficiency, ownership, and structural transformation. His resignation in 1934 should not be viewed as a footnote in history, but as an early warning.

Today, the NAACP continues to fight legal battles and issue public statements on racial injustice. While these efforts matter, many in the community question whether they translate into tangible improvements in everyday life. Too often, activism feels reactive, designed to provoke outrage rather than build solutions. Meanwhile, economic disparities persist, Black-owned businesses struggle, and working-class families are left without meaningful institutional support.

This raises a difficult but necessary question: Are we facing racism alone, or are we also facing a failure of advocacy to evolve? In 2025, we understand what systemic racism looks like. We can name it, document it, and debate it endlessly. But naming the problem is no longer enough. The focus must shift toward building systems that work for Black Americans, systems rooted in economic development, workforce pipelines, entrepreneurship, and community investment.

The NAACP was founded at a time when Black Americans had little to no legal protection. Today, while some rights feel threatened and others unevenly enforced, we live in a vastly different reality. That reality demands a broader vision, one that prioritizes economic empowerment alongside civil rights litigation, and one that includes not just the educated or elite, but the everyday Black worker.

If the NAACP is to remain relevant, it must reconnect with the people at the margins of its mission. It must move beyond symbolism and return to substance. Fighting the system has its place, but building our own may be the work that finally closes the gaps that activism alone cannot.

Editorials represent the opinions of the individual writers and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Ark-La-Tex Gazette, its Editor-in-Chief, or its staff. Those interested in submitting an editorial may contact editor@thearklatexgazette.com. Submissions must be well-written and free of profane or vulgar language. Publication is at the discretion of the Editor-in-Chief.