Statistics coming out of the 2010 census about children in poverty are alarming. The Children's Defense Fund-Minnesota reports that the number of children in poverty rose from 9 percent in 2000 to 15.2 percent -- an increase of 62 percent in the last decade.

The media is not paying attention, so I've been registering the grim undercurrent almost subliminally -- little articles here and there, offset lately by major features about the return of luxury items ("Luxe is Back!") in condos, townhouses, furnishings, dining, vacations.

Still, my reaction was muted until I saw a recent Star Tribune feature about the steady rise of sales in the middle class of designer clothing for children despite a bad economy ("Behold the trendy Mini-Me," Oct. 3). Large color photos of a boy and girl sporting clothes by Gucci and Ralph Lauren accompanied the story.

The irony, the juxtaposition of children in poverty and children in designer clothes, is not just a gap, it's a cavern.

It's time to address the issue of children in poverty directly, publicly and dramatically.

The news that more than 35 percent of students in Minnesota schools now qualify for free or reduced lunch is buried in small print. When I researched the increase, I found a graph that goes up at a right angle after the year 2000. Yet there are no photos of children in the newspapers whose families have fallen into poverty, which is figured at $21,000 for a family of four. "Children who grow up in poverty are more likely to lack adequate food and clothing, live in poor housing, become victims of crime and violence, lack basic health care and be less successful in school," according to Minnesota Milestones 2011.

But we know this, don't we?

According to the Children's Defense Fund, there are 114,000 children living in poverty in Minnesota. They are largely invisible because the housing patterns in the Twin Cities are famously segregated by race and class. How can the rising poverty rate ever compete for attention with the pictures of children in designer fashions?

The little girl in Gucci cape and boots, posed for the camera, and the boy in his natty layers ready to fling his Ralph Lauren cap are not, according to the article, children of the wealthy. Their parents are middle-class, willing to spend extravagantly on their clothing: "[T]he best thing consumers can do is make sure their kids get all the right things and dress the part," according to the analyst for a consumer tracking service.

Is that really the best we can do?

I like nice clothes too. They fit better, last longer, and I look better in them. I have grandchildren for whom I buy clothes. So I am not immune, and they are not immune, to the desire for clothes of status. They are, however, not indulged by me, or by their parents, whose pocketbooks do not stretch to provide a steady diet of status.

Children in poverty cannot advocate for themselves. It is the work of responsible adults to do that for them. We need a think tank and a budget for effective public-service messages in the media, the way political campaigns hammer their message home -- messages developed by creative thinkers. There are other things we can do, smaller efforts that can make a difference if enough of us speak out and act on the issue. We can rigorously oppose an increase in the sales tax, which penalizes those with the least money. We can support, with time and money, organizations like the Children's Defense Fund that are committed to addressing the crippling effects of poverty on children's futures.

We don't have pictures, like the photos in the newspaper, but we have the number -- 114,000 children living in poverty. We can try to remember the numbers.

We can speak out. Several weeks ago, I found myself dropping a miserable statistic into social conversations. On the subject of levying a sales tax for a new Vikings stadium, I said, "Do you know that the number of children in poverty rose threefold for children in Brooklyn Park? How can we raise the sales tax for those families who will never see a game?" Several people looked down at their hands. It is uncomfortable to raise these questions, but it seems unconscionable to let the questions slide.

I'm going on the assumption that if people knew, if they could see, they would do something about the conditions for children in poverty. We sent money to Somalia in record amounts after seeing the pictures of starving children.

Several people whose opinions I trust have said that people don't care about the level of poverty here. If it's not personal, they don't care.

Is that true?

Norita Dittberner-Jax is a writer and educator in St. Paul