Revelations

Not that bad a parent, not that bad an artist, not that bad a writer, not that bad a comedian.  Bad at self esteem, self worth, and faith.  As much as I preach, can't take my own advice, or unaware I wasn't, until out in the world, paying attention to what's going on with an ear to the ground. 


It wasn't me; it was the culture.  A culture that will point the finger at anyone who isn't sure where their place is.




I've been here before, at a different stage in life, looking through different eyes: young, ignorant eyes.  Thinking the world is as we wish it to be.  It isn't.  There will be things we will never understand. First Corinthians 2:9.




I understand that I've charged too little, asserted too little, insisted too little, and followed through too little.  I do finish what I start, there's just to many irons in the fire, which slows down all of them.  It could be the general family curse: jack of all trades and master of none.  The truth is I'm master of a few, and been distracted from narrowing the plan.




I'm told there is a plan I'm not aware of, from a Higher Power.  I get it.  I'm more patient over time, and more grateful.  It doesn't stop the anxiety and fear, or the trauma that's ingrained that kicks in like an involuntary reflex at the worst possible times.  I'm paralyzed and frozen, conscious of my surroundings and unable to move, except I can move, only in very slow motion.




Keep up appearances.  The look of being poised, collected, and perhaps a little too calm, or even aloof isn't what it looks like.  It's paralysis, an inability to act quickly, it's less indecisiveness than being stuck in slow motion.



I've been depressed, which comes back randomly, when events seem to negate all efforts or progress: the reason for so many irons in the fire.  If one gets shut down, there's another in the pipeline. 




So the revelation is I was interrupted, which I knew.  What I didn't know was the fog I walk through that's almost a dreamlike state as often as not.  It's a survival mechanism that no longer serves me.  Can I shake it by will alone?  No.  That's what Higher Power is for, when I remember to ask.

Bambi

I still can't watch the movie without crying; he lost his mother in the beginning.  It's not a cute name to be made fun of, let alone be adopted by a misogyny victim playboy bunny. 

I just watched a video of a doctor giving a baby deer CPR for nearly ten minutes, until it became conscious again to join his mother who was watching in the woods nearby.  I cried again.  Some would call her crazy, a doctor, with a pool the deer fell into; I don't think so.

We can't minimize the value of life, for any creature.  Did the Garden of Gethsemane compare to the duration of a term in a concentration camp where faith will not waiver there will be deliverance?  How did Nelson Mandela get through 27 years of hard labor without losing his mind enough to become the president of a country?  Miracles do happen every day.  We take too many of them for granted. 

And sometimes, when we may be given the opportunity to be part of a miracle, we don't know it when we see it.  I leave church late on a sunny day stopping to watch the geese graze on the property.  I don't take them for granted; they're as much a part of the sanctuary as the church itself.  I know everyone wouldn't agree with me. 

Every time I see a deer or cat walking across the field or near the parking area I feel as if I'm a stranger in someone's home.  I slow down or stop to take in the beauty of nature that only a higher power could have created.  They all exist for a reason, and sometimes it's to remind us what we can't take for granted, whether we're paying attention or not.  The truth is unwavering, whether we are aware of it or not. 

Words do not change facts simply by 'virtue' of being words, that can be used as much as weapons as vehicles for peace, which is not the absence of tension, but rather the presence of justice.  MLK was inspired to create a quote he originally found in scripture.  He didn't rely on what others said was written in the book.  He read it himself.  That knowledge was part of what set him apart.  It's easy now for some of us to take for granted the times he and those before him came through.  We can't.  None of us are guaranteed anything beyond the gift that is called the present.

Violated, again

TSA NY: 2 Hands Up Crotch; threatened after 1st one, then again. 'Comply, or U'll B detained'. 5 legal ID's weren't OK: Laguardia.

It's also called re-victimization. Real victims are dead, or are they? Survivors are self-identified. I fall into the latter category, until it happens again.

Anyone who hasn't had anything worse or comparably 'bad' happen to them tend to call others 'self-identified victims', which can be true, up to a point. When violations over the course of time mount upon one another (no pun intended), month after month, year after year, the impact is irreversible, and seeps into the psyche, transforming one's identity, and perspective on the world. Reality is relative; every 'world view is different' there is sometimes no right or wrong; often there is.

What happened at the airport is inexcusable, the 'supervisor' had a sadomasochistic attitude, got off on 'power and control', insensitive to who she was groping or that exploiting her 'position' would set into motion further trauma from violations that began in childhood and continue to this day. It only comes back and becomes crippling when someone who uses the excuse of 'doing their job' imposes on the rights of others at will or on a perverted, sadistic whim, at the expense of a mother on her way to visit a child who has been through similar trauma, having disclosed what has happened in her absence.

What goes around comes around? Let's hope so, on both counts, and to all the others who project their 'needs', 'justified' in the false context of 'responsibility', onto those who cannot defend themselves.

Testimony (NYC)

Dear Distinguished Members of the Panel, and Allies:

We continue to watch fatalities in the headlines every day, many of which have either no history or background where the phrase ‘domestic violence’ is rarely mentioned. The press will include terms such as ‘separated couple’, ‘estranged boyfriend’ (or girlfriend), or ‘ex-partner’, though this effectively masks for the public that these are all crimes by those from abusive relationships.

There’s no established way to track if someone ended up dead, sometimes along with children, from returning to the oxymoron of ‘abusive home’ after being turned away from attempting to find shelter or safety, having found the courage to leave, many knowing the risks of doing so are great: the answer to the question ‘Why don’t they just leave?’.

The above refers to fatality reports. As many of our city’s inhabitants speak English as a second language, or are often traumatized on occasions when police officers are involved in incidents where death from attempts to escape is not yet a result, DIR’s (or Domestic Incident Reports) and police reports are written up incorrectly. Sometimes it is not disclosed or known that there was in fact an attempt to leave. Believe that it often is.

When there is some report in low percentages in contrast to the actual number of known unreported cases, the average individual filling out that form is a front line ‘first responder’, when it’s done at all, who is not a trained DVO (or Domestic Violence Officer). DVO’s, with few exceptions do not work during the most frequent times that ‘domestic incidents’ occur: evenings and weekends.

The officer often hands the supposed victim the phone number of the DVO, without filling out any report. It’s your guess how many actually call in later…, putting the children at even further risk of harm, when it is usually the mother attempting to protect them.

The alternative to not finding housing is potential or real death, in either returning to an abuser in desperation, or being found attempting to find other housing (including though not limited to abuse through the systems that have continued to fail to protect and further empower abusers).

The low number of survivors and their children placed in safe housing and high numbers of homicides or incidents of abuse that go unreported or for the largest percentages without police reports or orders of protection makes documentation requirements unrealistic and inappropriate, directly inflicting additional trauma by requirement alone to be considered 'eligible'.

Survivors seeking housing and safety in shelter and/or on PA must be referred to agencies where advocates may provide letters of their circumstances. It is most usually not possible to be misunderstood by or to misrepresent to a trained DV advocate. Police reports and DIR's do not address needs, indicate risk, or provide protection any more than Orders of Protection.

The extreme small percentage of those thought to 'misrepresent' will either not visit advocate agencies or not pass the interview or intake process, unlike the current process for making reports though 'law enforcement' (when done at all), which are often by untrained 'first responders', or between officer and alleged 'victim', reporting single incidents and not addressing DV.

Fatality reports are not representative of actual 'DV incidents', in order to 'keep the numbers down', though the headlines have also frequently mentioned no prior police involvement or no orders of protection in a number of deaths (also related to the unrealistic documentation requirements for more permanent housing).

If ‘domestic violence’ is not spelled out, it is treated as if it doesn't happen.
The deaths go up with budget cuts to preventive programs and housing options, while the ‘numbers’ ignore the realities. Is this the way the city regards our homeless families, who have been documented as 90% women and children as well as the #1 reason for their seeking shelter and housing now confirmed this year as Domestic Violence? The lambs are being thrown out for slaughter; we are all but numb from the headlines. Do you see the connection now?

For those that do survive the system, requirements for shelter and those in housing are obsolete and additionally oppressive, as if what these most always women and children have gone through weren’t enough.

The need or desire to work can be addressed by training providers or hours that do not fit a regular schedule or location. Assignments can be obtained by survivors of domestic violence who can put in work hours online or at varying locations in specific training or work situations who have been stalked by abusers or former partners seeking to find them at locations with 'normal business hours'. They can also be available to their children who have been traumatized by abuse or witnessed violence.

By providing survivors who know how to locate assignments the means to become established with an online business or flexible training or work locations and hours, we can potentially transform extremely limited resources to enable economically abused survivors a means to find their way back to safety, and even supporting themselves and their children.

The missing link is making the connection between those affected and those willing to help. This will also raise awareness to these and many other issues that are in the interest of the next generation, including seniors and extended families.

Documentation requirements repeat themselves regarding 'DV Advantage' and DV waivers in PA offices, compounding obstacles to safety for survivors and their children.

The 'boroughs of exclusion' in DV waivers, when granted, do not serve survivors or preserve their safety. They are put at further risk in any borough though current widespread technology where just having a cell phone on, unanswered, permits an abuser &/or their agents to track whereabouts, according to citywide law enforcement technical experts. Survivors have been dismissed without notice from shelters where abusers have shown up at confidential locations, without the survivors willingly or knowingly providing where they were. These practices must be eliminated; any one such incident can lead to more fatalities.

Forcing mothers to work requirements is an extension of abuse, where most are on PA either from economic abuse, shelter requirements, or both. Most are willing to work, so long as there is no additional risk to their safety or the safety of their children, though they are treated as non-cooperative and threatened with cut-offs or sanctioned when they resist practices that do not take into account safety risks without documentation, the acquisition of which can put them at even further risk or escalate threats or violence.

Addressing how mothers may keep themselves and their children safe with both housing and alternative work arrangements that allow for the 'required' number of hours while still being available to their children who have either been additional subjects of abuse or witnessed violence is critical for both safety and recovery.

Regrets, To the Little Girl on the Staten Island Ferry

One resolved, only to acquire another. The intention here is to maintain the most optimistic attitude possible; I am a 'glass half-full' person in the worst of times. Thus, I hope the little girl seen at 2:00 a.m. on the Staten Island Ferry was sad and in tears for anything but what it looked like: another child with an abuser, perhaps a sexual abuser. The person she was with offered a tissue, though I know this type of person very well: trying to look civil in a public setting. His face showed no compassion and avoided eye contact, knowing I was watching.

Because I couldn't get close enough to hear the conversation, I stood up two rows away and watched directly. She looked at me with burning eyes, clearly not wanting to be where she was and at times looking almost as if she wanted to die, to be anywhere but where she was.

There were 'officers' in the back of the boat. It was a twenty-five minute trip. I was sleep-deprived from a long day and could barely put two sentences together, let alone find the right words to express myself effectively, or so I thought. It was a Friday night, and this was perhaps his visitation, or this was a night someone else was unavailable and he was the only one who could 'take care of her'.

Whatever was going on, it didn't look like it was the first time. Either she had just come from somewhere that kept her crying silently during the whole trip, or she was about to experience something that she was helpless to prevent. I pray it was the former; either way, I feel as though I should have acted, though past experience had me frozen. All I could do in those twenty-five minutes was stand during the whole trip and stare at them, looking for a clearer sign to go to the police, who happened to be visible at the back of the boat.

There was an employee a friend knew who worked on the boat in the ladies room, who had disclosed to her that she was regularly beaten by her boyfriend. I was disturbed enough by this to go to an officer the next time I saw her working there and tell them what I knew. His response was that unless the woman went to him herself there was nothing he could do, that 'what if they took action on everyone who made such a report'? I was disappointed and discouraged, thought not surprized.

That experience and my fatigue kept me from going to the back of the boat that night, expecting the same response. This time it was a child, this time who she was with would lie if asked if there was something the child was upset about; he would likely not permit anyone to talk to her directly. She was property, too afraid to speak with who she was with that she couldn't get away from, who spoke in a very low voice with no emotion or expression of compassion as her tears flowed that she wiped herself, refusing the tissue he offered.

I watched helplessly as they got up when the boat got closer to its destination, the little girl, no more than eight, the same age as my son, walked ahead of her captor and faced forward to not have to look at him. I stood as close as I could to her side on the other side of the rope. She glanced at me a time or two, looking terrified, or enraged, or both, maybe at me for not doing anything, maybe because that's what she's always gotten: no one helping or caring, or even knowing that whenever she's with this person, something happens that she can't stop, and can't tell anyone.

By the time I was ready to go to someone they were still in the back of the boat, chatting as they had the whole time, watching no one, untrained, uncaring for any sort of subtle dynamics as these, inaccessible. I was angry that they were not now in the front of the boat, as they should have been.

Still helplessly watching, the seemingly heartless person the child was with took her hand again, as he had when I first spotted them about to get on. They walked together briskly toward the buses and disappeared into the crowd; there was nothing I could have done by then even if I'd been able to keep up with them. An eight year old if sad over anything other than coming from a death of a loved one does not continue to cry in such a way for such a time period unless something is out of the ordinary.

Two days later when I was able to see another cop on another boat I asked what was the procedure when those kinds of things happen. What are they trained to spot or do when nothing is happening though it appears clear that something may be about to happen, something that's happened before and may happen again, sometimes ongoing for years in a child's life with no one knowing. He said different officers are different, though they're not trained to spot such things for the most part, and that I should have gone to them...

I hope you were sad over anything but what it looked like; if I ever see you again or him I will not forget what you or he looked like. I will never forget your face. If I ever see the two of you together again with the same thing going on I promise I'll get help; I'm sorry I may have failed you. I hope you can forgive me. It's sometimes all I can do to protect one child, as I sometimes have to watch helplessly while another goes through what they don't deserve. Please be well, and safe.