Day 4 – Forgiveness
by Zoeyjane
Something you have to forgive someone for
I really had to rack my brain for someone to blame and then forgive. I’ve already, I thought, forgiven everything and one that I had grievance with. But I was wrong.
Once again, the abuse card gets pulled. It’s so beat up now, you can barely distinguish it as anything more than paper, I know, but this is the place for it. If there truly is a place.
I had to move on from making my childhood about him and about me, our intertwining roles of co-dependence and secrecy and hurt. Today, searching through grey matter, I realized, I have to forgive all of them. And I have to forgive you, too, maybe.
I have to forgive any neighbour who, upon hearing a child scream, assumes it’s normal kid angst and they just didn’t get the toy they wanted with their happy meal. I have to forgive teachers who see bruises and think that jungle gyms can be dangerous places to kids as white as ghosts with challenged platelets. I have to forgive social workers who take a child’s word as the truth. I have to forgive grandparents who see the ugly, hear about it, even receive an apology about one particular incident, and still think it’s for the greater good and that a child and parent are lucky to have each other.
I have to forgive neighbours who routinely hear a child scream, cry, be screamed at, the thumps as her body hits a wall, and stay out of it because it’s none of their business. I have to forgive the teachers who see a depressed, shy, organically inferior-feeling child, but don’t have the energy to do anything about it because they have 29 other students to deal with every day. I have to forgive the social workers who start off wanting to save children and end up so dejected with the world and the system that all they can do is the bare minimum. I have to forgiven grandparents who always side with the adult, even when no one asked them to choose, regardless of the adult’s crimes.
I have to forgive you, if you’ve fit into any of these scenarios. If you’ve seen a parent slap his or her child for saying the word no and you looked away, suddenly quite immersed in looking at your own child. If you’ve been driving down the street, witness to a child being dragged, literally, with terror in their eyes, and you tried not to miss the next green light. If you’ve heard that yell – it’s different than anger or tripping and stubbing your toe, it’s mixed with shock and embarrassment and hate and shame – and disregarded it as anything more than tantrum. If you’ve seen a kid with a bruise that made you think holy shit, and you cuddled up closer to your own, and didn’t ask how the bruise got there.
I spent a long time being angry that no one protected me. Multiple systems failed. Nothing governmental, nothing medical, nothing familial or educational. I was so mad. Sure, I didn’t do anything, either, but I was the child.
But it’s symptomatic of our world. We mind our own business, you know? We try not to make waves, unless it’s something quite external, that wouldn’t leave a mark in our life. And we step aside, assuming that parents have a right to raise their children however they want to – to punish as they see fit, as often and within reason, as violently.
Make waves. I implore you.
I’d wager that a large number of the neighbours who knew my father wouldn’t have made a simple phone call because they were worried it would come back on them. He would know, he would find them, it would be bad for them, it could be worse for me. How would they have felt if I had died? If he had killed me, or I’ve been successful during one of my suicide attempts?
The next time that you see or hear that thing that normally might make your heart catch, but that you think you should stay out of, please don’t. Please think what if this is just foreplay for the main event? What if that child ‘trips and falls down the stairs’? Please become a temporary catastrophist. Imagine the worst.
I’ve always found it quite ridiculous that no one called child services on me shortly before Zoë’s food allergies were diagnosed. At the height of it, she was smacking her head against the walls, and screaming for two hours, solid. She had claw marks on her arms and thighs, from self-injury. To me, she looked and sounded like a child having the shit kicked out of her regularly, at least couple of times a week. I was terrified that someone would make that call and I’d have to explain that she was just… Zoë and I didn’t do anything to her, except try to restrain her from knocking herself out.
But no one ever did call.
Someone did call before that, though. When she was barely a toddler. A friend who’d had some concerns for a long time. At the time, I couldn’t get over the rage of this audacity, and I assumed for years that the call originated from a malicious place. Now, I see, assume, that this friend had thought it was necessary for whatever reason – I assume PPD-related behaviour – but couldn’t address the issue with me for a while, and when our friendship ended, she had freedom to lift the phone without as much repercussion.
Now, I think, good. I would have called, too, if I had concerns. Well, actually, given my past, I would have brought my concerns up first, but if I saw something that needed intervention, I would have made sure it happened. And if, in the future, I’m faced with that decision, I’ll call.
And if I see a mom slap her kid at the grocery store, like I once did, I will again storm up to her, regardless of whether her child is acting up and it’s dinnertime or not, and I will express the fact that doing so not only cost her trust from her child, but also took away some of his dignity. And if she doesn’t want to face the loss of dignity me calling the cops on her would bring, she should apologize to her child. I will make that bully say I’m sorry to a two-year old. Because frankly? Being taller and older and having given birth doesn’t mean that we own the right to disrespect or harm a child’s body or mind.
I think, if doing it to an adult could get you arrested, you probably shouldn’t do it to a kid.
Point being: there is absolutely no reason why a child should have to live in an abusive life. They’re surrounded by people at all times that are empowered, even just by age alone, to get them help. If you think something might be shifty in a child’s life, ask. If you can’t ask, call someone else who will. If nothing is solved, but you still see something amiss, call again.
It is your business. It’s all of ours.
Tomorrow: Something you hope to do in your life. Um, this week? [link]
