I have a student studying social work and who went to a social work-themed high school writing her researched argument on emotional and verbal abuse, that it should be considered as much as physical or sexual abuse when child protection workers consider removing a child from a home or environment. She is one of a handful of students I enjoy talking to about their projects. Then I saw
The Carnival Against Child Abuse link at
Abyss2hope's blog and was disappointed to see it all focused on sexual abuse. "Disappointed" is too strong word. The posts I read were good, the carnival itself is good and I look forward to its growth, it is something that should not be in the shadows and that does take a lifetime to heal. But the same applies to
emotional abuse and
verbal abuse. If you are only hit, from those who talk about physical abuse, your bruises and marks heal. When you are sexually, emotionally or verbally abused, the core of your existence is attacked and it takes a lifetime to pull yourself 90% together. Posts at the carnival urge education and understanding the signs of sexual abuse and as a parent, I have read and been lectured on these signs and to emphasize to your child that her body is hers. But nothing about the shredding of a child's identity, existence, self. What about the signs of emotional and verbal abuse? Years ago, when I worked with a literacy program, a tutor told a student he was smart, he was powerful, he was a
winner and the boy burst into tears. The tutor and I were baffled. But it is a sign--a child who cannot hear
she is worthy is one who has heard too often that she is unworthy. I know all too well. I was ignored or micromanaged and overcontrolled, told I was stupid and lazy and selfish and self-centered when I dared to disagree about things like what food or color or shoe or book I liked, told what to feel (as little as possible) and think (whatever the prevailing mood was), told the older I got that I was fat and ugly and mean and a bitch. I was always wrong--a hair out of place (with naturally fuzzy, thick, wavy-kinky hair, this was daily torture that was blamed on me), not "matching" perfectly (it was just not possible), not walking properly, not sitting properly, not chewing properly or breathing properly or having the proper expression on my face. Surprise was (and still is) expressed whenever it was revealed I had a friend or an interest or a talent. (When I first met Mister, in my late 20s, I heard my mother regularly spit, "I don't see how he puts up with you." I told him. He confronted her. She stopped saying it.) I reached adulthood convinced I was evil and unlikable (love was out of the question), stupid (with a 3.4 average at an Ivy League college), fat (at 125 lbs., I dabbled in anorexia and bulimia and settled on a steady diet of cigarettes through most of my 20s), ugly, unbearable and self-centered. And no one had hit me or raped me or sold me or kicked me onto the streets. I got an excellent education, always had food and clothes, had a car in high school. She talked glowingly of me to her friends and co-workers--when it made
her look good. (I never heard this stuff.) But I could have had 4 PhDs and still thought of myself as incompetent and ignorant. I saw only my flaws. I was a shredded person. And I haven't gotten into the it's-your-father's-fault-I-didn't-abort aspects of childhood.
It is not worse or milder than sexual abuse. That is not my point. But any attacks upon a child's person, including her existence, including his right to breathe and live and eat, are abusive. Children must know they have bodily integrity
and internal integrity, that no adult, or other child, has a right to attack the You of You.
6-24-06: See Marcella's response at abyss2hope. Thanks, Marcella.tag: child abuse, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, Carnival Against Child Abuse
Lisa at The Garden of Irks and Delights has started a list of New Orleans driving peeves inspired by this sign posted at Claiborne and Esplanade:
