daily emancipation
between hope and despair, we exist.
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the ghost, sighted at 1123 am.
Long boring meeting, a flurry of repetitive accounts, paperwork, questions, and agendas. One disgruntled young man in the corner, angry that we are taking away his one shot at living in his own apartment. We have spent 18 months patiently holding his hand, explaining why it is time to self direct, self motivate…get involved in his own future.
He isn’t, we aren’t either.
Time is passing, all parties are agitated, there is no decision we can all agree on. I throw down my hand-
“Look, D, if you can not give us a detailed list of how you plan on addressing the issues we are bringing to you, RIGHT NOW, then I will step in, and make a motion to suspend your transition into an apartment, and recommend that out next step be making sure you are set- up to receive SSI benefits next year. “
” I’m gonna do it…. I told you”
“What? Details on getting a job…”
A knock at the door suspends this moment. The door opens, and a pink baby carrier appears, followed by thin dark hands, and a black jacket. Soon, the Ghost and his newborn daughter are encircled by a group of 5. Everyone asking questions. Wanting to get the update, knowing that we don’t really have time to stop the meeting.
Ghost is smiling his big toothy smile, this thin face wrinkling at the edges of his lips and eyes. Through his quite voice, I can see he’s proud. He is working, delivering papers, taking care of his baby by day, paying the bills. He’s doing well. He’s free, though the chains of adult encumbrance and instructional racism are jangling faintly, down the hall. But we are not there yet- he is not there yet. Today, The Ghost is an employed, domiciled, bill-paying daddy. Halfway through his 22nd year of life, surely, this is the best he’s had so far.
No details are forthcoming. Noting, just a wildly tapping toe.
“Alright, to the group, I suggest that if D is not able to secure 2 job interviews, clean his room, and begin going to class again within 7 days, we suspend the apartment, and begin planning for D have SSI benefits. Is there any agreement on this from the group?”
All heads nodding yes, while D crosses his arms tighter and looks down, towards his lap.
“Alright, anything else?”
Silence.
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goodbye, week 2
Last week I gave notice to JP. Quickly alerted those who needed to know, and listened as those who were resistant to the change talk about their sadness at the news. Both were relatively easy to handle. What has been hard is dealing with myself.
I am surprised by how much venom i’m expelling, and how quickly. After bearing witness to the daily disappointments and tragedies of life in the hood, I have lost interest. And unlike those who have no choice but to continue in the daily grind, i am taking advantage of what i have to exit. its tiring- being in the middle of a tragic soap opera every day. its no wonder the police, and citizens of the neighborhood are so damn haggard all the time. this place will suck you dry.
I wonder how the experience is different for those who grew up in this environment- re they simply jaded earlier, but to the same effect, of do they not even notice the tragedy? or perhaps they dont recognize their tragedy or tiredness, thus making it null?
for the first time, when people say things to me like ” i dont know how you do this, it takes so much energy”, i dont roll my eyes at their weak mindedness, i shake my head in agreement and reply ” i know.”
i am disappointed in the glacial pace that change takes, and the young people are so directionless…and in the moment, while i am angry, i also realize that this is not the young peoples fault- they are only part of the equation. this is the responsibility of people who are now somewhere between 30 and 50 years old. The parents- who used drugs, hit their children, refused help, and were also sent to the margins. thier offspring- the young people i work with are the byproduct of someone elses life choices and circumstances. but what scares me? reproduction.
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The problem with Monsters
Monster and I have had our share of ups and downs. Many times, I turned a blind eye to things I knew weren’t exactly correct, because I saw the best in this young person, and wanted to practice being strength- based in my apporach to a severely damaged young person.
Lord knows I tried.
But when 416 dollars worth of bus passes came up missing 3 weeks ago, and I found evidence that he was the culprit, I ran out of compassion. He has succeeded in getting to me, and I, to him in a way that I have not experienced in a long time.
I am dissapointed that he could shit where he eats, that what we went through last summer was not enough to give him a reason to respect this group home.
that he would steal, endure the uncomfort that he caused his peers, lie, and then have the audacity to pretend that he’s been wrongly accused, and call his GAL…I’m personally offended.
For the first time since begining here at JP, I feel hopeless.
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a search, no hits.
so where are the other people on Tumblr who are thinking about child welfare?
few and far between it seems.
a search for “DCFS” brought up a lot of links to “DCF” posts ( not related at all)
a search for “child welfare” brought up posts from around the country, mostly reposting updates on legislative changes
a search for ” north lawndale” brought up my posts. and some random other stuff.
and last night, at an improv show, when we were asked to throw out suggestions for themes, i was tempted to yell out things like “group home” and “social worker” but didn’t, because my mom was there, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad.
its funny how much this means to me, and how little it means to the rest of the world, proportionately.
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traversing
I’ <!— /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:”Times New Roman”; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:”“; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”;} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} p {margin-right:0in; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times;} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:”“; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:”Times New Roman”;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} —> ve spent 2 days in a DCFS mandated training on involving fathers in the lives of the children in the system. We began by calling out stereotypes that come to mind around the word ” father”- manipulative, drug dealer, abusive, disinterested, unaccountable…so on and so forth. The trainers went on to explain that our bias against father is why we don’t work harder to engage them, to the detriment of the children.
This made me uncomfortable. Because threes a really big piece of this theory missing; DCFS is a system that takes a disproportionate amount of children of color. Therefore the fathers that we deal with are going to be disproportionately men of color.
I don’t have the numbers in front of me so I’ll conservatively say that 85 percent of DCFS cases are families of color. Which leaves 15 percent as white. This is nearly an exact inverse proportion on the POC/ White proportion in the city of Chicago. hmmmm?
Right. So here we are serving 85 percent of families that are from a race that only represents 15 percent of the city. Which means that when DCFS workers use the aforementioned words to describe fathers, they’re really describing black men/fathers.
In nearly the same language uses in media to portray this it set of men. Black men, at least in this case are struggling in a battle that is Sisyphean in magnitude.
How the hell are we supposed to et a group of people who are walking into a room full of people who already think the worst to show up?
And furthermore- I realized some serious flaws in how JP is handling this issue. Since our youth do not have the goal to “return home” but to have “independence” we have nearly no contact with the family. It seems to be an uneasy truce in most cases. The guys are trusted to make their own decisions about visiting and being with family, and we encourage them to go home whenever possible, but we do not reach out to invite parents inside our home. Either way there are two points to be made with this…well, three.
1) We are perpetuating the message that fathers (and really, any parent) are unimportant by not doing more to encourage them to come around and participate in the decision-making process. I fear that a generational problem then crops up: if the message is sent that Tyrone’s dad is not important to Tyrone’s case/ progress/ critical decisions then Tyrone will internalize that, and when he becomes a father, he will then use this internalized message to guide himself away from his own children.
2) JP seems to thrive on keeping families at distance. We do not encourage the relationships, and instead offer our agency as a substitute- creating youth who are overly dependent on the system/ JP, with weakened family ties, and no confidence in the redemptive powers of enduring familial relationships.
3) I know for a fact (fuck you Chapin Hall, I didn’t need a billion dollar study to find out either) that kids who at least know where their parent is do better than those with no contact or knowledge of a parent or an adult relative who genuinely cares. To be clear ANY parent seems to improve things, but only CARING relatives seem to be able to provide what young folks need to stay a little more grounded. AND I also know that though the outcomes are not consistently better, and the cases are much more rare, it seems that having a father who has it together is exceptionally useful to easing a young person into a more positive outcome in life sooner.
So there you have it Chapin Hall, DCFS, McEwen…and all of you other goofballs lining too many pockets with “special” funds for “special” initiatives. By fostering healthy educated emotionally available Black fathers we are also insuring healthy educated and emotionally available Black children. All the DCFS workers in the world cannot do for a young man what a “good enough” father can.
If you have the time, Google “good enough mother” for info on D. Winnicott’s theory on.well here…(thanks again, wikipedia)
Winnicott’s treatment of psychically disturbed children and their mothers gave him the experience on which he built his most influential concepts, such as the “holding environment” so crucial to psychotherapy, and the “transitional object,” known to every parent as the “security blanket.” He had a major impact on object relations theory, particularly in his 1951 essay “Transitional Objects and Transitional Phenomena,” which focused on familiar, inanimate objects that children use to stave off anxiety during times of stress.
His theoretical writings emphasized empathy, imagination, and, in the words of philosopher Martha Nussbaum, who has been a proponent of his work, “the highly particular transactions that constitute love between two imperfect people.” A prime example of this is his ideal of the “good-enough mother,” the imperfectly attentive mother who does a better job than the “perfect” one who risks stifling her child’s development as a separate being.
I keep thinking about going back to school to get a PhD and study fatherhood, men, media…no one pays attention to fathers any more- women’s liberation was such a successful movement that we have rendered men absolutely unnecessary in our lives for anything other than breeding. As a woman, I get a certain thrill from knowing this…but I also get a certain sense of dismay at the prospect of generations of children raised with out a man around because of the ripples of women’s lib.
Now I’m rambling. Which is ok. I’ll be glad I have this to reference later when I’m ready to write my book.
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this is why no one likes you.
monster update:
monster, who you may remember as the kid who started off his time here by keying the cars of 2 staff members, after being confronted by me. Monster had been skipping school, and coming home early to sit on the stoop and smoke weed. on the day that I had enough, I walked out front and lit into him. he was not happy about this, and retaliated by keying cars. he was charged with property destruction, and put on probation.
over the preceding year, he and I were able to patch things up, and get back into a more positive relationship. At first, Monster thrived under this new healed relationship. He attended school, came home, presented as friendly with staff and peers, and for the most part, stayed out of big problems.
When winder hit, Monster seemed to sink into a depression- he slowed down, stayed gone for longer and longer, skipped school more frequently, and increased his marijuana usage. He began his official backslide when he stole a pack of unused bus passes from the office drawer. Without any proof, we just grumbled, and let it go. Then a camera went missing- and we all knew he took it. He had been using my office computer to apply for a job, when I left the room to refill my coffee cup. when I returned 4 minutes later, he was gone, and so was the new camera. with a little coaxing, we finally returned it. \
by little coaxing, I mean I printed flyers with a copy of the camera’s box, along with a note asking where the camera went, reminding the thief that they had forgotten to steal the battery, and requesting a no questions asked return. by the end of the week, “someone” has broken a glass door and then thrown the camera on the floor of the room. again, with little proof, we were not able to do much.
and since Monster continued to be friendly and amiable to the rest of the people, it was easy to let it go. which we did. other than my obtuse references to the stolen camera, it has become a forgotten trespass.
but when half a moth worth of passes came up missing from the office of the woman who orders them, we knew something was wrong. Monster had been in her office the week before, and had by chance gotten to see where the passes are kept. after a room search that produced a set of keys hidden in the sole of a shoe, and the wrappers of the missing passes, along with the butter knife and pie e of molding that had been removed to get into the office, we knew he had our offender.
bus passes were not replaced this time, like they usually are. this time I refused to indulge the residents. one person took down the freedom of all. despite the sob stories and the mutterings of what a bitch I am, I am not even tempted to cave this time.
We are dealing with the effects of nearly a decade of a childhood spent in the care of Illinois Department of Child and Family Services (DCFS). Despite being the premiere child welfare agency in the country, we continue to produce poor outcomes for those at the bottom of the pile. Our system changes its rules each time it gets a new director, and as the schizophrenic directorship of the institution changes, the youth become more and more enabled. if we adults can’t keep up with the changes, and live in fear of rebuke, can you imagine what it’s like to be a child in the system? confused, fractured funding and policy results in confused staff who would rather do it themselves that take the precious time to teach the caregiver or child. so kids grow up thinking that they set the pace- that they are the most important factor, that tier needs will always be met…
…and it just isn’t true. at 21, these cute puppies become ugly doge, just like the rest of us do. no one will care about their harrowing story, one look into the face of another young black man with a record and a story, and people who are higher up stop listening.
white people already don’t care, and see the kid as further reinforcement of what they already believe to be true. and black folk don’t like seeing those who are left behind when they turn their back on their community in trade of a big car, and a cute house in a respectable suburb. Of course the majority of Latinos aren’t going to care whether, as they are victims of the divide and conquer propaganda.
so here we sit, and right now, none of this matters- I’m still stuck with a kid who knows no other way, and sees no other way, and cannot find a way to stay out of trouble- there is no self discipline, community support, role modeling, or any other strength that can really be used to change this behavior immediately.
I am angry. I have no deep insightful words to comfort myself with- just the nagging feeling that this is the way it’s been a lot longer than I realized. that perhaps I am just new understanding the depth of this problem, and its perpetuation through generations of young people.
these young people are by far the most extreme examples of failure. they are the worst seeds- the young people who come from generations of abuse and neglect. This isn’t working, y’all. not at all, not for these kids.
The way it is, we are putting these children that come from families with high dysfunction into homes with high rates of enabling. therefore, perpetuating the behavior, and not changing it. what do we need? more and more I think we need boarding schools for these kids. places where the children are educated holistically, fed healthy home cooked meals, taught how to give back, pay forward, become financially and socially literate.
The Harlem Children’s Zone is a great proposition, and I look forward to seeing where that heard over the generations, but right now, I’d rather think on a level that is more portable. it is entirely possible to take one area’s delinquents, wards, and other waylaid youth, and put them all in a very structured, socially just environment until they are able to self discipline, and then offer them incentives for returning “home” after college, and perpetuating these new values into the community.
Look at the outcomes for Urban Prep High School- these kids were radically altered in 4 years, without even leaving the neighborhood. Instead they were put into an environment with clear high expectations and consequences, and they were taught how to move forward, and how to think in an entirely new way.
as time goes on, I see several things happening with this blog: me learning how to craft stories from these experiences, issue more commentary on what the stories mean, and possible split into a new blog where I can spend time on personal issues.
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check it…
so…there’s this kid, we can call him Oak. His affluent suburban foster family got rid of him when he started smoking weed, and “stealing” the minivan. they were so uncomfortable with him that he was sent from his gold leafed nest and into this rats nest. He struggled to finish his schooling, got huge tattoos, began dabbling in drug trade, and other black market hobbies.
He smashed his foster parents’ van, blinded the foster family to his moral failings, and delinquency, and developed a shiny silver tongue.
Now, 6 moths later than expected, he finished his schooling, and is ready to leave here. And his “supporters” keep calling to let us know how eager they are to welcome him back. Pressuring us to expedite the process, of returning the prodigal son back to his rightful place- the place THEY ousted him from. They are concerned for his saftey this summer…
“well ma’am, he was here last summer, and he did just fine”
they played him the old “Our way of the highway, kiddo” approach. As long as you do as we say, you are welcome- when you are in your darkest hours, we will reject you, remove our love and support. We will make sure that you understand that love is conditional, and that you will always have to watch your steps if you want to be our stepson.
is it any wonder that he’s such a mercurial ass? an arrogant, self-important snake? he must cheer when no one else is. his real family left him, and those who have accepted him into their life did so with conditions.
what troubles me is- if you sent him out because he was misbehaving, and told him to come back when he gets it together- then you, dear supporters of Oak, are totally off base. Oak competed a online high school diploma, that’s it. he still uses drugs, sells sex, and stomps around like a little prince. his diploma is a mask for his new, worse behaviors.
you are not welcoming home a reformed young man, but a spurned one with no better options. when you sent him away, you took his confidence, and his ability to fly. there are no small wings growing out of this young back. he will survive, and he will do fine, and he will be pressed on by the nagging feeling that if he doesn’t, the love will be taken away again.
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sunk.
as predicted, the GH is over. 60 days to find new homes for the kids, and then, they’re done. Not a suprise, at all. Heartbreaking; totally.
What does this mean for the TLP? nothing until we fail to pay our expenses. Theres just no way that we’re gonna have the cash on hand to deal with this.
honestly? i’m ready to call it a day. too much harm, and i cant help but wonder if it can ever be healed, or even restored. people are strong, and resilient, and sometimes, too smart to continue on.
but as i look elsewhere, ill also be paying close attention to the slow sinking of a multi- million dollar ship.
ahoy.
