THE AMERICAN CHILD

PART I — BEFORE THE LAW: THE CHILD AS LABORER, COMMODITY, AND SYMBOL (1600–1900), Chapter 1. Bound Out.

Chapter 1. Bound Out: Childhood and Labor in the Colonies (1600–1800)

The story of American child welfare does not begin with compassion—it begins with labor. Long before social workers and court hearings, before acronyms like CPS or CAPTA, children in the colonies were the fuel of a fledgling economy. They were not yet “wards of the state,” nor “protected persons.” They were property, assets, apprentices, servants—sometimes loved, sometimes beaten, always controlled.

The Colonial Child: Labor in Miniature

In seventeenth-century Virginia and Massachusetts, a child’s value was measured not by promise but by productivity. Survival demanded it. Parents, magistrates, and ministers alike believed idleness was sin, and a child’s duty was to serve. The Puritan ideal held that children must be molded to obedience—“saved from the corruption of idleness.” In practice, that meant work from the moment they could walk.

Orphaned or poor children were “bound out” through indentures—legal contracts placing them with a master until adulthood. Colonial assemblies in Virginia (1643) and Massachusetts (1646) allowed magistrates to assign children to households under the Poor Laws inherited from England. The contract promised “food, lodging, and instruction,” but in truth, it was a business deal: a free pair of hands for the colonist, and one less mouth for the parish to feed.

Churches and courts acted as brokers. An orphan or a child of “disorderly” parents could be taken and bound without consent. Town records in Boston, Salem, and Jamestown are littered with names of children “placed out” as if they were parcels—each entry a micro-transfer of human capital.

The First ‘Protections’—and Their Shadows

The Massachusetts Body of Liberties (1641), the first American legal code, reads like the DNA of modern child law. It granted children the right to “no cruel or unnatural punishments” and required masters to provide “meet correction.” Yet that same text explicitly allowed corporal discipline “in measure,” granting adults near-total control. It was a promise of mercy laced with impunity.

This tension—between protection and power—never left American law. Every later child-protection statute, from the 1874 cruelty laws to today’s CAPTA protocols, echoes that duality: care and control, always intertwined.

Indenture, Slavery, and the Machinery of Expansion

Not all children entered servitude through poverty. Many were born into it.

Enslaved African children were classified as chattel, their status inherited through their mothers under the 1662 Virginia statute “Partus sequitur ventrem.” This single legal phrase ensured generations of bondage—children as property from birth. Native American children fared no better: in New England and the Carolinas, colonists seized them as war captives, “Christianized” them through forced apprenticeship, and shipped them to the Caribbean as servants.

Childhood became a frontier commodity. Family separation—often spoken of now as a modern CPS sin—was foundational to the colonial economy. When colonists claimed to “civilize” Native youth through schooling or servitude, it was often an early form of cultural erasure disguised as moral uplift.

Apprenticeship: The First Welfare System

By the late 1600s, formal apprenticeship had become the colonies’ answer to what we would today call foster care. The goal was economic, not emotional. Courts and overseers of the poor placed children in homes to prevent public expense. Contracts promised “instruction in the art and mystery” of a trade, but many masters exploited apprentices as unpaid labor.

In Pennsylvania’s 1682 Frame of Government, William Penn required that orphans and poor children be placed in “useful employment.” New York’s 1691 statutes allowed overseers to take children from “idle or vagrant” parents. These laws institutionalized a social logic: if a family failed economically, the child’s allegiance shifted to the community—or more accurately, to the wealthier members of it.

This was the embryo of the modern state-child relationship. Poverty was recast as neglect, and “saving” children from their parents became an act of civic virtue.

The Church and the Overseer

Religion sanctified control. Ministers preached that disciplining children was a holy duty; governors enforced it as civil order. The line between salvation and servitude blurred. A 1703 Boston court order praised a household that took in “neglected” children “for their moral instruction and training in labor.” The arrangement was publicly celebrated, but no one recorded the children’s consent—or suffering.

Church courts also handled “bastardy” cases, often binding out the children of unmarried mothers. These early moral courts laid the groundwork for later juvenile justice: morality as jurisdiction.

The Racial Divide

For white colonial children, indenture was harsh but temporary. For Black and Native children, servitude was generational. Laws in Maryland and South Carolina codified this racial hierarchy: white indentures ended at 21, Black bondage never. Even the supposed “rescues” of Native children through missionary schooling were, by today’s standards, state-sponsored family separation.

Colonial governors justified it as benevolent assimilation—“saving souls” through removal. The same argument would reappear, almost verbatim, in 20th-century child-welfare policy.

The First Welfare Contract

By the late 1700s, America had built its first welfare apparatus—without ever calling it that. Town selectmen kept ledgers of orphans and pauper children, balancing columns of “expenses saved” by binding them out. The logic was fiscal, not humane. Every placement reduced the burden on the public purse.

This pattern—public virtue funded by private exploitation—still haunts modern systems. The “care” of children has always run through ledgers.

The Colonial Precedent: Control as Care

By the Revolution, child labor was so normalized that few questioned it. A 1770 Pennsylvania broadside declared, “Idleness breeds vice; labor breeds virtue.” Colonial law agreed. What began as economic survival hardened into moral doctrine: children must be molded through work, obedience, and fear of authority.

In that crucible, America invented the paradox it still hasn’t escaped—the belief that to protect a child, one must first control them.

Legacy

When later reformers drafted the first juvenile courts or welfare statutes, they inherited this template: protection through discipline, virtue through oversight, salvation through removal. Every modern acronym—CPS, DFCS, DSS—sits on a foundation poured by colonial magistrates and parish clerks.

The Puritans and planters didn’t foresee social workers, but they built their skeleton. The colonial poor laws, church indentures, and racial hierarchies became the legal DNA of what would evolve into the modern child-welfare state.

The state as parent was not invented—it was inherited.

The colonial era taught America to equate childhood with duty. Labor was moral; obedience was salvation. But as the 19th century dawned, the frontier closed and the machine opened. Steam, steel, and soot replaced the plow. The same children who once tilled family fields were now swallowed by textile mills, mines, and tenements.

The creed of “work builds virtue” became the justification for a new kind of bondage—industrial instead of feudal, mechanized instead of moral. Reformers would rise to stop it, but not before a generation of small hands turned the wheels of the American empire.

And that’s where the second chapter of this story begins.

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