Revelations

 “My voice was no longer heard after my brother was born, that’s what I’ve figured out.”

Jennifer said this with such diffidence I might have missed it if I had not asked her again and again through our years of friendship some version of the query, “What happened?” She’s brilliant and when we were in professional circles where questions came up, she often had a terrific solution but simply would not say it aloud.

When or where does a reluctance to use your voice actually start? Since I’ve had enough psychotherapy to buy a house, I was willing to begin with my beloved parents.

My father was fine with my being as audacious as I pleased as long as I was still playing the part of his only son. When, however, at 13 I sprouted independence and a strong voice of my own, he shut me down. Angrily, absolutely, with the words  “Who do you think you are?”.

Good question if I had been allowed to explore the answer.

It’s difficult to hear our children’s voices as their own and not just a reaction to our way of thinking or being. Parenting is hard enough, why complicate it by the child’s independence, one might say.

But if we want these little ones to grow confident, we have to find a way to listen with respect, consideration and thoughtfulness while teaching them these same values. At the end of every day, the assessment of lessons learned as a parent were balanced by what my children taught me.

And that still goes on at every age. My education continues from grandchildren, neighbors and the quickly passing riffs of environment and social media. To keep up requires all of it if one is to stay alert in the 21^st Century.

The soulful child psychologist, Robert Coles, refers to children as “moral listeners”. Even in the first three years of life when language skills are minimal, they hear us with their whole selves. Whether we are in the mood to consciously take care of their education in being human, their tiny beings are on the job of learning.

As a kindergarten teacher instructs me when I’m going into any new situation, “My students have no prior understanding of anything I’m about to say. None. Start there.” Good advice.

Our young one’s first impressions are received with no filter. They absorb our world without questions or demands. Home initiates every attitude, every word and emotion.

This past summer I had the privilege of spending time with a family of three young sons. What I most appreciated by being in their company was the way their mother worked with each child: intimately with quiet focus and attention.

We were boating one afternoon, speeding to a spot of clear blue waters where we anchored. All needs were taken care of, but the youngest at ten years of age was restless and began to be a bit demanding. His mother took him aside and, sitting down to be at his level, she quietly spoke very clearly, never raising her voice. It was an impressive exchange and his attitude was corrected.

How I covet such focus and self-control for every parent. It is learning to handle one’s self as a parent, grandparent or neighbor that makes all the difference in what our children hear. If we are short-tempered or anxious, children learn that attitude rather than the lesson we’re attempting to convey. Their moral listening may be short-circuited because of the nerves we’ve neglected to calm in advance.

Perhaps Jennifer’s parents as well as my own might have benefitted from taking a time out for themselves to consider how they listened. Time to consider what their children might be hearing through their parent’s actions as well as their words and silence.

The lessons of our childhood speak through all our ages.

What Can I Do?

When I was on a statewide board that met monthly in Sacramento regarding the safety of children, representatives from every county suggested solutions based on their location, crime rate, health needs and economic level. We were always seeking to ameliorate the differences: what do all of our children need most?

The day we began to ask the following question was when we hit the target: Are we considering these questions from a child’s view or from an adult view?

Looking at the world from three feet off the ground instead of five or six feet is entirely different. How intimidating are the creatures in a child’s world, we began to wonder. And every meeting after that, we asked that question to begin as if it were an invocation. Are we seeing from a child’s point of view or from an adult point of view?

The transforming value of that question inherently demanded further investigation, of course. We began to inquire of the young ones in our lives to learn more about how they see the world around them. It’s illuminating.

Their unfiltered absorption of not only events but of the people in their lives makes a difference in how they develop opinions, values, attitudes. And it isn’t just at home, of course, that this occurs. So much of their lives are spent away from us.

In our current news cycle I’m constantly alarmed by the length of time Jeffrey Epstein, chief predator now deceased, influenced and then traded upon young lives. At 21, though he didn’t finish college, he secured a job at one of the most prestigious private schools in Manhattan: Dalton. He was dismissed after two years because of “poor performance” and “inappropriate and flirtatious behavior”.

But in those two years, how many contacts did he make? Seeing him from an adolescent’s perspective, he was rather dashing and close enough to their age to be accessible. Good looking. Dangerous.

A child who is high school age is exploring the world. At best, they’re curious. The problem comes when their curiosity is take as consent by a predator.

And the children, if taken advantage of, bear the guilt forever. They feel that it was their fault because of that curiosity. Of course it isn’t their fault, but that sense of guilt and subsequent shame is the reason so few kids tell someone. The statistics are skewed as I often remind the reader—the statistics are skewed.

“Last year the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children received more than 113,000 reports of child sex trafficking”, wrote Nicholas Kristof in Sunday’s New York Times (22 February). That Center’s chief legal officer further explained that while no one knows the actual number of children bought and sold for use by adults, “the real number is absolutely higher”.

But here are the words expressed by this chief legal officer, Yiota Souras, that I most want to emphasize, “This is happening in every community, in every city and state.”

The Monarch Justice Center in Napa was established in 2019 to make sure that those who have been traumatized by family violence or trafficking have a safe place to go. That’s right, here in the Napa Valley, from children to elders, there is a place that will shelter and protect.

People who would rail against slavery and the injustice of that vile period of our history fail to raise their voices when it comes to sexually enslaving children. Why is that? Is it just too messy?

Or is it that we have enough experience of predators in our own families, in our own neighborhoods, that we’re concerned about offending them? They’re professors of high standing, officers of the court, local celebrities.

I’m asking questions to stir our minds into active thought. Please do not just read the accounts of predators who go free somewhere else and shake your head or raise your brows. Rather, stay alert to the necessity of being vigilant right where you are. Ask how you can help the Monarch Justice Center.

Kristof, in his Sunday Op Ed column, pointed out that “Accountability means prosecuting not only traffickers but also anyone who buys sex from a child.” He adds that “many of the johns may include respected businessmen, teachers and officials.”

Please remember Epstein’s first job and shudder. Be assured that there are many who follow his example today.

And then believe the children who have the courage to tell their stories. Stay alert for others who may need to come forward but are scared they won’t be heard or believed.

Every one of us is accountable to our children whether we have children at home or not. We are accountable to ourselves, as well, to create a world fit for our young ones to inhabit.