Every time this conversation begins, a 1909 photograph comes up. In Augusta, Georgia, a boy, perhaps ten years old, stands in a cotton mill. Small hands, worn shoes, a look that’s somewhere between tired and just blank. That picture felt securely archaic for decades, serving as a reminder of a past the nation had moved past. Feeling that way is becoming more difficult.
The fine print of labor laws has been changing in a number of American states, especially in the Midwest and South. Not all at once, and without much fanfare. Committees vote on proposed legislation, and governors sign it. Thirty states have put forth legislation weakening protections for workers under the age of eighteen since 2021. Rollbacks have already been implemented in seventeen of those states. It’s worth taking a moment to consider the number.
The severity of the infractions speaks for itself. Approximately 1,012 minors were employed in violation of federal child labor laws during the 2015 fiscal year. That figure increased to 5,272 by fiscal year 2025. During that time, the number of children employed illegally in dangerous jobs more than doubled, from 355 to 773. These are not rounding mistakes. There is a structural issue.
It’s not exactly mysterious what’s causing it. Children, especially those from low-income, immigrant, or agricultural communities, represent a population with few legal options and little political voice, and industry groups have long pushed to increase access to cheaper labor. The direction was made clear in the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 blueprint: lessen federal oversight, let states set the floor, and loosen restrictions on when and where minors can work. or, in certain situations, completely remove the floor.
Weakening state standards isn’t the ultimate goal, according to Nina Mast, a policy analyst at the Economic Policy Institute. It is the way to weaken federal regulations. The case for a robust federal floor becomes more difficult to make once enough states erode the foundation. Even though the reasoning is problematic, there is a logic to it.
The loophole in agriculture has been around for a while; federal law already permits children as young as twelve to work unlimited hours on farms outside of school hours with parental consent. That carve-out has never received the attention it most likely merits. As new legislation in states like Nebraska, Indiana, and West Virginia expands the same careless approach to other sectors, it remains largely unaddressed. Legislation that is currently pending in Florida, Missouri, and Virginia is headed in the same direction.
The physical reality of what these jobs entail is lost in the legislative language. lines for meatpacking. floors of warehouses. Adjacent construction work. For adults, let alone teenagers working late shifts before a school morning, these aren’t low-risk settings. Over a hundred children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen were found to be working illegally in meatpacking facilities in 2023, according to a Labor Department investigation. The requirements weren’t hypothetical. They were dangerous, chilly, and noisy.
Public awareness of this issue seems to come in waves: a damning investigation, a round of outrage, and then silence. In the meantime, the legislative process proceeds steadily and patiently in the background. It’s possible that the majority of people believe that child labor laws are reliable and have been tried and tested. The figures seem to indicate otherwise.
The children of those who drafted the legislation are not the ones most impacted by these changes. Seldom are they. Enforcement data consistently indicates that undocumented youth, low-income families, and Black and brown communities bear the brunt of increasing violations. It is not an accidental pattern. It shows the areas with the least amount of legal protection and the greatest economic pressure.
Whether or not federal standards are upheld and whether or not people outside the labor policy community choose to pay close attention will determine what happens next. For the time being, state by state, the laws are being quietly changed in committee rooms with little media attention. I can’t help but think of that 1909 cotton mill photo—not as a metaphor, but as a cautionary tale that seemed utterly needless not so long ago.
