The Trump administration's embrace of oil, gas, and chemical industry priorities is systematically weakening protections that shield children from toxic exposures, according to public health advocates and environmental groups tracking regulatory rollbacks.
A comprehensive analysis from the Center for American Progress documents how industry influence is reshaping chemical safety regulations, air quality standards, and public health protections—changes with disproportionate impact on children, whose developing bodies are particularly vulnerable to environmental toxins.
The policy shifts span multiple agencies and regulatory domains. The Environmental Protection Agency has delayed or withdrawn rules limiting per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) in drinking water, postponed reviews of pesticides linked to neurological harm, and weakened air quality standards for particulate matter and ozone. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration has slowed chemical workplace safety regulations that protect both workers and nearby communities, including schools and residential areas near industrial facilities.
"Children's bodies aren't just small adult bodies," explains Dr. Samantha Williams, a pediatric environmental health specialist at Boston Children's Hospital. "Their organ systems are actively developing, their metabolisms work differently, and they're more vulnerable to toxic exposures at lower doses. Pound for pound, they breathe more air, drink more water, and have more hand-to-mouth contact than adults. Weakening environmental protections doesn't affect everyone equally—it disproportionately harms kids."
The chemical industry's influence operates through multiple channels. Industry representatives have been appointed to key regulatory positions, industry-funded research is given weight in policy decisions, and lobbying expenditures have surged around critical rule-making periods. The American Chemistry Council spent over $50 million on lobbying in 2025, focusing heavily on blocking PFAS restrictions and chemical safety reforms.
PFAS compounds—used in nonstick cookware, waterproof fabrics, firefighting foam, and thousands of consumer products—exemplify the health stakes. The chemicals persist in the environment and accumulate in human bodies, and have been linked to cancer, immune system suppression, thyroid disruption, and developmental delays. Children exposed during critical developmental windows face elevated risks for learning disabilities, decreased vaccine effectiveness, and metabolic disorders.
The administration's approach reverses momentum that had been building toward stricter PFAS regulation. The EPA had proposed designating certain PFAS compounds as hazardous substances under Superfund law, which would have accelerated cleanup of contaminated sites and strengthened liability for polluters. That designation has been indefinitely delayed, leaving communities near military bases, airports, and industrial facilities with contaminated water supplies and no clear path to remediation.
Environmental justice dimensions are stark. Low-income communities and communities of color face disproportionate exposure to industrial pollution, petrochemical facilities, and hazardous waste sites—a pattern researchers term "environmental racism." Children in these communities already experience higher rates of asthma, lead poisoning, and developmental delays. Weakening regulations compounds existing inequities, concentrating harm in populations with least access to healthcare and political influence.
Catherine Chen, an environmental justice organizer in Louisiana's industrial corridor, describes living "in the shadow of refineries where kids use inhalers like it's normal. The administration talks about jobs and energy, but they're not talking about the kids who can't play outside when air quality is bad, or the families drinking bottled water because the tap water isn't safe. Those costs don't show up in their economic analysis."
Public health researchers emphasize that the costs of inadequate regulation vastly exceed the costs of prevention. Childhood lead exposure alone costs the United States an estimated $50 billion annually in reduced lifetime earnings and increased healthcare and special education costs. Air pollution contributes to childhood asthma affecting over 6 million American children. PFAS contamination affects drinking water systems serving tens of millions of people.
In climate policy, as across environmental challenges, urgency must meet solutions—science demands action, but despair achieves nothing. In children's environmental health, the science is unambiguous: toxic exposures during development have lifelong consequences, and prevention is both possible and cost-effective.
Advocates are pursuing multiple strategies to counter federal rollbacks. State governments in California, New York, and Massachusetts are advancing their own chemical safety and air quality regulations. Cities are restricting pesticide use in parks and schools. Public health departments are expanding screening for lead and other toxins. These efforts create patchwork protection, but advocates argue that localized action can protect vulnerable populations while building political momentum for stronger federal standards.
The question facing the nation is whether industry convenience justifies compromising children's health—and whether economic arguments about regulatory costs honestly account for the medical, educational, and social costs of toxic exposures that shape lives before they begin.
