I've battled gangs for decades. Now I'm fighting a threat that's even harder

The Double-Edged Sword: How Smartphones Are Reshaping Youth in Chicago
Pastor Corey Brooks has spent years working to reduce gun violence in the South Side of Chicago, establishing after-school programs and helping young people reintegrate into mainstream society. His work has focused on providing alternatives to gang involvement and giving children pathways to stable, productive lives. Yet over recent months, he has turned his attention to a different, perhaps more insidious threat: the smartphone.
For many young people in his neighborhood, the device serves as a vital tool for connection and opportunity. It enables music creation, builds online audiences, and offers access to worlds beyond their immediate surroundings. Brooks acknowledges that for some, the phone represents a genuine escape from poverty—a legitimate avenue for building careers and achieving success. He makes clear that he does not wish to dismiss these achievements or close the doors to such possibilities.
However, the darker implications of mobile technology demand equal scrutiny. The same devices that offer creative outlets also facilitate harmful behaviors that have escalated into violence and trauma within his community.
One particularly troubling development involves the rise of drill rap—a genre sometimes described as "kill rap"—originating from the area around Brooks' church and community center. While some artists use the medium for honest storytelling about their experiences, others employ it as a weapon. Livestreams featuring these performances often include location tags, which serve as challenges to local residents. When a crew films in a neighborhood they consider hostile, posting the tag is interpreted as a dare: "Come and get us." The resulting confrontations frequently end in physical altercations that draw emergency responders and require funeral services.
Brooks describes how these incidents cascade through the community. After a livestream triggers violence, authorities investigate the recordings, treating any spoken content as potential confession. Several young people have been arrested under this approach, their futures disrupted by digital footprints rather than circumstances beyond their control.
Beyond street-level violence, the smartphone presents profound challenges to family life. Many parents report that their children cannot relinquish the device, viewing removal as an attack on their child's world. This creates an ongoing struggle between parental authority and technological habit. In some cases, teenagers use search engines or artificial intelligence to argue against their parents—essentially outsourcing reasoning to machines rather than developing critical thinking skills. This dynamic erodes the very foundation of parent-child relationships, leaving both parties unable to navigate disagreements constructively.
The broader societal context amplifies these concerns. Recent legislative actions reflect growing alarm. An Indiana Republican senator has introduced measures to restrict minors' access to online pornography, recognizing the harm such exposure can cause. Meanwhile, Meta's implementation of stricter teen usage guidelines signals industry-wide recognition of the platform's risks to younger users.
Brooks argues that the solution lies not in outright bans but in restoring traditional parental authority. He advocates for consistent boundaries—nighttime restrictions, designated screen-free times, and expectations for offline engagement like homework and religious practice. Crucially, he calls on the wider community to join parents in this effort, reinforcing that the fight against technology-driven harm extends beyond individual households.
Ultimately, Brooks concludes that while smartphones possess undeniable power, the greater crisis is the weakening of the human capacity to guide young people through modern challenges. "A phone cannot love a child," he states, "it can only hold their eyes through the trickery of the algorithm." The responsibility, therefore, falls not on the device but on the adults present to witness, guide, and protect their children amidst its influence.

