Unfit by Design — When the System Labels Good Parents as Dangerous

It’s one of the most devastating outcomes of a broken family court system: a parent who has done everything right—loved, protected, advocated—is labeled as “unfit.” Not because of abuse. Not because of neglect. But because they spoke too loudly, challenged the system too often, or refused to stay silent when their child was in distress.

Protective parents, especially mothers, often find themselves under attack not by their co-parent—but by the very system meant to protect their family. When they bring forward allegations of abuse or try to shield their child from unsafe situations, they are met with suspicion. Their advocacy is reframed as instability. Their persistence becomes “obsession.” Their emotional distress becomes a reason to question their credibility.

Court evaluators may describe them as “overinvolved.” Judges may warn that they are “projecting their own anxiety” onto the child. And slowly, the narrative begins to shift. The abuser becomes the calm, reasonable parent. The protector becomes the problem.

This process doesn’t happen overnight. It is the result of systemic bias that punishes emotional expression, especially in women. It is sustained by outdated beliefs that both parents are always equally fit, and that any deviation from a 50/50 dynamic must be the fault of the parent who resists. It is fueled by professionals who fail to recognize trauma responses—mistaking fear and urgency for manipulation or paranoia.

Once the label of “unfit” or “alienating” is applied, it becomes nearly impossible to shake. Protective parents find themselves monitored, micromanaged, and sometimes stripped of custody altogether. Their children are forced into therapy not to heal, but to reunify with someone they fear. The real threat is ignored, and the person who tried to stop it is punished.

This is not justice. It is gaslighting at a systemic level.

To fix this, family court must learn to distinguish between fear and fabrication. It must stop equating calmness with safety and emotion with guilt. Judges and evaluators must look beyond surface behaviors and ask what drives them. And above all, courts must learn to trust the people who risk everything to protect their children.

No parent should lose custody for trying to keep their child safe. And no child should be forced to watch the one person who believed them be labeled dangerous.

The Dehumanization of Children in Custody Battles: From Child to Exhibit

In family court, a child’s name is mentioned dozens of times. Their schedules are debated, their preferences speculated on, their mental health records picked apart by adults who have never once spoken to them directly. They become the center of every filing—and yet somehow, the least visible person in the courtroom.

Too often, children in custody disputes are not treated as people. They are treated as exhibits. Their experiences are translated into clinical language by therapists or attorneys. Their fears are reworded in court summaries. Their emotional meltdowns are reframed as symptoms of “alienation” or “instability.” And when it’s time for decisions to be made, the child isn’t in the room. Their words—if they are heard at all—are filtered through so many adult interpretations that they lose their original meaning.

This process is not only dehumanizing—it’s dangerous. When a child becomes a case file, their identity is flattened into what is convenient, legible, and strategic. Their emotional truths are weighed not for depth, but for how they fit into an argument. Court-appointed professionals may refer to children as “the minor,” reducing them to a legal category rather than a living person. Judges may assign parenting time based on calendars and convenience, not the child’s psychological needs.

In this environment, a child’s trauma can be completely overlooked. They may be returned to homes where they feel unsafe. They may be forced into therapy with a parent they fear. They may have their emotional responses dismissed as immaturity or manipulation. It becomes possible for everyone in the courtroom to claim they are acting “in the best interest of the child” while never once acknowledging the child as a full human being.

This isn’t how justice should function. Children have thoughts, memories, fears, attachments, and boundaries. They form relationships and carry trauma in ways that deserve attention and respect. They are not assets to be divided. They are not burdens to be managed. They are not “collateral damage” in a battle between adults.

To change this, courts need a complete shift in approach. Child-inclusive processes should be standard, not rare exceptions. Judges should receive training in developmental psychology. Mental health professionals should be required to meet with children more than once before making recommendations. And most importantly, children should be allowed to speak—to someone—without the fear that their words will be twisted or used against the parent they trust.

When children are treated as silent evidence instead of people, the outcome is never truly just. Family court must move beyond paperwork and procedure and start seeing children for what they are: whole, complex, and worthy of being heard.

Favor and Familiarity: When Court-Appointed Professionals Aren’t Neutral

When a family enters the courtroom, they often expect that court-appointed professionals—like guardians ad litem, amicus attorneys, or custody evaluators—are neutral, well-trained, and acting solely in the child’s best interest. But in too many cases, these professionals become powerful, unregulated voices whose recommendations go unquestioned—even when they are based on incomplete investigations, bias, or personal alliances.

Unlike judges, who are subject to judicial conduct boards, or attorneys, who must answer to bar associations, many court-appointed professionals operate in a gray area. There is no standard training across jurisdictions. Some evaluators are therapists; others are not licensed in mental health at all. Their reports vary widely in quality and content. Yet their word carries enormous influence—sometimes more than any witness or piece of evidence in the case.

What happens when a guardian ad litem meets with a child for five minutes and writes a glowing report about a parent the child has privately feared? What if the evaluator is friends with one of the attorneys? What if they ignore documented abuse and recommend “reunification” based on surface-level impressions? These aren’t hypothetical concerns. They are realities reported by countless parents who have seen their child’s fate decided by someone who never truly listened—or who listened selectively.

The illusion of neutrality is dangerous because it shuts down questioning. Judges often defer to these professionals as if their word is gospel. When a parent pushes back—asks for a second opinion, points out contradictions, or challenges the thoroughness of the report—they are branded as combative or uncooperative. And so, the cycle continues: biased or negligent evaluations shape court orders, while families suffer the fallout in silence.

This lack of oversight becomes a breeding ground for systemic failure. Some professionals recycle templates, delivering nearly identical recommendations across cases. Others rely on outdated psychological theories or ignore cultural and trauma-informed considerations. In the worst cases, money plays a role. Wealthier parties can afford more evaluations, private experts, or better access to these professionals, creating an uneven playing field masked by the guise of fairness.

Rebuilding trust in court-appointed professionals requires structural change. These roles must come with clear qualifications, required training in trauma and child development, and consequences for neglecting ethical standards. Families should have the right to review and challenge evaluations. Judges should be required to independently assess—not rubber-stamp—recommendations. And above all, the child’s actual lived experience must take precedence over polished paperwork.

A guardian ad litem or custody evaluator is not supposed to be the judge behind the judge. They are supposed to help uncover truth, not obscure it. Until these roles are reformed and held to account, too many children will continue to have their futures shaped by people who never truly saw them.