This morning, I was doing some content creation for Facebook and Instagram and came up with this gem. While creating this post I found myself back in the moment of writing this particular chapter for Ketchup Sandwiches. I found myself reading through and shaking my head, because I am an adult now and I am still baffled at how many people witnessed the neglect and abuse and said nothing.
Now, as an adult, I can understand that there are some grey areas. I can acknowledge that different families have different definitions of discipline and cleanliness. There are some basics that we can all agree on, right? For example, children should be provided with food, clean clothes, and safe place to sleep. Further we can agree that the line between a spanking and abuse can be drawn when a spanking leave a child's bottom and moves to anywhere that parent can make contact on a child's body. This doesn't even touch on the social emotional well-being of a child.
You may be wondering how I know these people saw the abuse and neglect. Maybe they were oblivious. Well, simply because my sister's and I were frequently the topic of conversations being had by adults in our family. I would overhear them talk about the way my body had matured more quickly than my cousins of similar ages. The adults would make special efforts to keep the chronic headlice my sisters and I lived with from spreading. Our cousins would loudly and frequently talk about the state of our clothes or comment on our body odor.
If that wasn't evidence enough that our neglect was being noticed more than once my mother would let her anger overflow in front of family, or more embarrassingly, in front of her friends. The chapter that the above excerpt references is from is Dynamic Duo which begins on page 108. In Dynamic Duo I dive into my feelings about a particular friend of my mom who had a front row seat to so much of my mother's erratic behavior. Towards the end of the chapter, starting on page 120, I describe a scene where my mother slapped me in front of a room full of her friends.
Here is an excerpt during the aftermath of that slap. "Micheal asked if I was ok. Sincerity filled his voice as he told me, "I know it's hard, but things will get better when you are older." In the moment, I felt better, but looking back I wished he had called the police or social services. I was only eleven. There are a lot of years between eleven and adulthood." Knowing what I know now about addiction and mental health I can have a lot of grace for the friends of my mother who didn't interfere. They were struggling themselves and many of them had lost custody of their own children. My family, well I that is a mixed bag. On the one hand I can understand their frustrations with my mother and their desire for her to just get it together. I know my grandmother had a lot of sway and she really believed my mother would eventually be a good mom. I still wish someone had stood up sooner to say, 'enough is enough'.
None of these people were blind. The evidence was in their faces and choices were made. Reading that last line, "There are a lot of years between eleven and adulthood." even now makes me want to hug my younger self. I think sometimes this mentality of what doesn't kill you makes you stronger gives people this false sense of everything will be ok. Like, just because someone else survived something similar or worse that its ok to let a negative situation slide by without confrontation. It was not ok for me. More importantly it is not ok for any child. If you see something say something. If you have the privilege to be the person a child trust with their pain don't just give them your words, take action.
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