Child Abuse

Who Profits from Child Abuse?

Re logged from Artby Robert Goldstein. We must speak for children

Auntie Linda Reaches Out To Anna Duggar

Auntie LindaimageI wish I had had the opportunity to reach out to Anna Duggar and young women like her before they are sadly misguided by their parents, churches and future in-laws into oppressive, early marriages rather than being encouraged to develop as fully functioning members of society.  Anna’s parents additionally betrayed her by sanctioning her marriage to a man they knew had already molested his sisters and others.  They should have told her to run, not walk!  It is an outrage to deprive women of education and opportunities in the name of Godliness. Women who are already in this situation will surely need help and support to make a life outside their church and family. Though Josh Duggar has admitted to being addicted to pornography and having committing adultery, and well as child molestation, Anna has to be facing tremendous from her parents, in-laws, church and friends to “stand by her man” where her role is to assume a portion the guilt of a straying spouse, supporting him in his weakness.  If only she’d been more supportive, listened better, been a better lover………  Likely, Anna feels she has no skills, despite her years of mothering ang managing a home, feeling she can’t support the children alone.  I challenge Anna to look at the children she brought into the world; children she is responsible to protect at all costs.  They deserve a life free of perversion and shame.  Should Anna decide to bravely make the decision to protect her children, she can change things for children at risk for abuse everywhere.

Spilt Milk, Broken Dishes, and Trashy Girls

True 2 True confessions

Spilt milk or broken dishes were reason a’plenty to cry when I was a kid. Daddy was highly volatile. Nothing shattered his nerves like a broken dish. Life with him was like walking a delicate precipice. Catastrope could strike without provocation: milk spilled at breakfast, the crash of shattered glass, the shrill shriek of a child. Even when things were going their best, any startling or embarrassing incident could end in a conflagration with Daddy taking his belt to the unfortunate instigator and descending into an anger that could last for days.  Early on, we all learned we needed to keep Daddy happy.  He doted on babies and toddlers, but rowdy children with opinions and boisterous behavior easily triggered his thunderous disapproval. Talking too much was a sure way to blunder into trouble. I invariably repeated a joke or word I didn’t understand, much to my sorrow. Failure to be circumspect ensured punishment. Nothing triggered him faster than shame. He intended for his children to reflect well, never subject to the possibility of criticism, justified or not. He only had to suspect a behavioral rule for modest female behavior to exist for it to become law. For us older girls, that meant no shorts, no public swimming, no dancing, no talking to boys, or dating until sixteen. Fortunately for my younger sisters, the road to Hell was not so broad. The worst thing we could have done was “trashy” behavior, namely promiscuity. Drinking and smoking were too far beyond the pale to ever enter the conversation.

“Trashy” girls ran around with wild boys, smoked, drank, danced, skipped school, cursed, talked back, and of course, had sex. It was understood they were an abomination not to be tolerated. I had cousins who were “trashy” long before I knew the specifics of what it involved. I just knew Cousin Carly’s boyfriend honked the horn at the street. She ran right past my shouting aunt, jumped in the car, and the boy spun out. She stayed out late, smoked cigarettes, slipped out when grounded. She got a speeding ticket driving her boyfriend’s car sixty miles from home on a school day. There was no way this way going to end up any way but badly. Of course, she dropped out of high school.

Not long afterward, Aunt Lou announced Carly had married an Air Force guy. Nobody ever saw him. Carly had a baby. Aunt Lou went to the Air Force Base and got Carly a divorce one day while Carly was working at the Firestone Plant. Carly couldn’t get the day off. Shortly thereafter, Carly married Phil, had two more children, and became as dull as mud. Thereafter, her life was entirely unremarkable except for the excellent example of how “trashy” girls behave. Thank you, Carly.

You Poor Baby (Part 2)

vintage baby

part 1      https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2015/07/11/you-poor-baby/

Furious at finding her washing machine packed to the rim with freshly laundered diapers mixed with freshly- laundered gobs of poop, Mother roused Carol from where she snored on the sofa, oblivious to her miserable, bawling baby. “Carol, come here. Let me show you how to use this washer! You can’t just throw filthy diapers in it without rinsing this stuff out.” Mother got a tub, made Carol scoop the poopy diapers out and clean the washer, then sent Carol out to rinse the dirty diapers under the faucet before bringing them back to the washer. “Be sure you dump that dirty water from the tub behind the chicken house, not in the back yard. You may as well get the rest of this mess soaking.” She pointed to the pile of poopy diapers that had not yet had a ride in her abused washer. Carol looked furiously at Phyllis and me as she stormed off to do this demeaning task, clearly much better delegated to underlings like us.

We did have to tend her poor, miserable baby while she slaved over the diaper rinsing, but that was better than rinsing out poopy diapers ranging from rock-hard lumps to runny diarrhea, depending on the vintage. The stench was horrendous, as evidenced by Carol’s retching. I have no doubt Carol was sick when she came back in. She took to her bed(our sofa) to recover. Clearly accustomed to help with her baby, she was reluctant to leave her repose to wash bottles and prepare formula, preferring to call out for one of of kids to “bring me a bottle!” when he cried. The first time, Mother let the hungry little guy have a bottle, despite the fact it was an expensive, hypoallergenic formula prescribed for her own tiny baby. She quickly pointed the case of milk she’d bought for Carol’s baby, the kind Carol requested. “Oh this will be fine,” Carol said. “He likes it!”

“Carol, you need to fix your own bottles! I bought you what you asked for. This stuff is forty cents a can!” Mother explained.

Carol was clearly offended. She dawdled a bit after he finished his bottle, put him down, and shut herself in the bathroom for a good crying session. Eventually, she came out and made a collect call to her mother, insisting she come, NOW! Mama couldn’t come, NOW! More crying on the phone. We were stuck together till the weekend. Carol had no problems leaving his bottles lying about to sour after baby was satisfied. Should he cry out when a sour bottle sat handy, she had no qualms about trying to get him to take it.

The next three days lasted an eternity. At my parent’s insistence, Carol did end up giving her baby good care while they waited for Mama, but she turned him over to Mama as soon as she arrived. His bottom had healed, he’d plumped up, and even played a bit with good care. Poor little guy didn’t get much of a pass. He was soon back home to be joined by a brother and sister in rapid succession.

Alas, Carol’s marriage fell apart, but before long she found another man and launched into her addiction to having babies she had no interest or ability to care for, eventually delivering eleven sad children. At a family reunion once, I heard someone ask how long she was going to keep having babies. She replied, “As long as God wants me to.” It was heartbreaking to see her children suffer from her neglect and ignorance.

Hear No Evil

Warning:  Triggers for victims child evilsexual abuse.

Betsy was overweight,unkempt, and shunned by the other kids. “Everybody” knew she “did” it with Jimmy in his barn whenever he wanted to.  She didn’t deny it, even though he called her a pig.  When the home-economics teacher stepped out of class one day, Betsy told us her step-daddy got in bed with her whenever her parents had a fight.  We were all repulsed, thinking she was “talking dirty.”  He was known to be an alcoholic, frequently drunk in public. She told us he beat the whole family.  She frequently bore bruises.   None of us reported it to anybody.  I was disgusted, avoiding her like the plague.  Wild horses couldn’t have dragged that story out of me. Becky’s step-father despised her for her illegitimacy.  The couple had  two younger girls and a boy together. ,Who knows if they suffered the same abuse as Becky didcrying child 2

Life went on.  I heard Betsy married and had children. Years later, she did prison time for molesting boys in her neighborhood.  Who knows how many children were hurt?  By the time she came out of prison, she was in very poor health, living out her life with her mother and a different step-father.  What a shame no one was there for this sad child early on, including me.

Hard Times With Mettie Knight Swain

family3

Five of Maw Maw’s seven children.  My father, Bill Swain is the little boy with wet pants holding the cap.  One more child was born after this picture was made.  It is likely someone just happened by with a camera and snapped this shot. Continue reading →

Swapping Lunches (from Kathleen’s Memoirs of The Great Depression)

velda n melbaI was fascinated with the twins, Velda and Melba Peterson, from a family of eleven kids on a poor farm way down in the low country. Their daddy “drank.” They often came to school beaten and bruised. They carried their lunch in a silver-colored syrup bucket and ate it under a big oak on the Continue reading →