I Was a Witness to Serial Silence

I felt the foot as it thrust between my legs and rammed over and over and over again into my crotch. I was lying on my back in the dirt. Strands of my long hair pulled from their roots under the weight of my body as my torso was forced forward. My head was tethered. My neck bent back nearly to its limit.

I felt the shoe. No one had touched me there before.

Shoes.

There wasn’t just one. They took turns. Chuck Taylors, Hush Puppies, Wallabies. The Waffle Stompers were the worst. They hurt.

It all hurt. Did no one hear me screaming? Was that even possible? There was a parade of people walking by. There were people all around.

I cried for help. My voice was my only defense as they held my arms and penetrated my dignity. Their grubby hands were on my breasts. They squeezed, and grabbed, and pinched, and wrung the newly mounded flesh.

They tore the pink bow off the center of my first bra. A metaphoric deflowering.

It happened every day that spring. Every day after lunch they chased me down the hall to the exit door that led to an uphill path to the playground. When we got outside they grabbed my arms and pulled and groped. My resistance was no match for their single-mindedness. They jerked me to the ground for their ease and to let the hill give them cover. Eventually, they dragged me to a more concealed spot behind the building. Still, the cover was not absolute.

Every day more than 200 school children followed the same route down the hall from the cafeteria, out the door, and up the hill to the playground. At least some of them must have seen something – or heard – or told their parents.

There were adults – teachers and parents on lunch duty. There were visitors. Someone had to have seen me struggling. They had to have heard me screaming even above the cacophony of 200 children playing.

Distress makes a different sound.

It is not possible to ignore cries for help. You notice and then choose how you will react. You look up. You look in the direction of the noise. You decide.

There were dozens of witnesses to my molestation. There were dozens of people who saw or heard a gang-perpetrated serial sexual assault. They decided to look away.

I was 12. The gang were my classmates – catholic school boys. We were 7th graders. We lived in Portland, Oregon in 1972.

*****

Like the boys who sought cover behind the school building, these acts hid in the shadows of my memory until last spring when I was invited to an event that could have brought me face-to-face with some of my former classmates, and with some of my attackers. The invitation was like a spotlight that cast its beam on the unwitting secret and called it out.

At first the memories were obscured by the glare of immediacy, but now, having sat with them – having sat with the 12-year-old me – the experiences are present, and I am communicating with them.

I don’t remember exactly how it affected me then. I know it was ubiquitous, but I don’t remember nightmares or fear. I don’t remember anger or self-pity or hatred. I recall incredulity. It was much the same as that which I feel now.

My friend and I had attempted to escape the ritual by taking an alternative route from the cafeteria. We walked up the main staircase and tried to exit the building through the front door. We were met by a nun who turned us around. I remember trying to tell her what was happening. I remember my friend trying. I know that I got out the words, “they’re attacking me,” but she wouldn’t hear. She pointed us back down the stairs, back to the long hallway, back to the torture.

Eventually we fled the madness by volunteering to wash tables in the cafeteria after lunch. It gave us a reason to stay in. Even now, I can smell the stale water we carried with us in a gallon-sized pail. I can see 16 tan-colored tables set against the concrete floor. I can feel my knee pressing into the bench and the side of the table hitting my hips as I bent to reach across it with the smelly rag.

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The quest to find biomarkers for toxic stress, resilience in children — A Q-and-A with Jack Shonkoff

The JPB Research Network on Toxic Stress, led by Dr. Jack Shonkoff, is working on developing biological and behavioral markers for adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and resilience that they believe will be able to measure to what extent a child is experiencing toxic stress, and what effect that stress may be having on the child’s brain and development.

The JPB Research Network on Toxic Stress is comprised of scientists, pediatricians and community leaders, and is a project of the Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University.

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Opioid legislation with significant trauma provisions clears the Congress, awaits the President’s signature

Opioid legislation with significant trauma provisions clears the Congress, awaits the President’s signature

 

On October 3, the U.S. Senate voted 98-1 (only Sen. Mike Lee, R-UT voted nay) to approve The SUPPORT for Patients and Communities Act  (H.R. 6 or previously titled the Opioid Crisis Response Act), a final step before the President’s signature.  The House approved the measure on September 28. The Senate approved an earlier version of this legislation on September 17 and, as reported on ACEs Connection, it includes significant provisions taken from or aligned with the goals of the Heitkamp-Durbin Trauma-Informed Care for Children and Families Act (S. 774), including the creation of an interagency task force to identify trauma-informed best practices and grants for trauma-informed practices in schools.

As reported earlier in ACEs Connection, the trauma provisions are the result of “extensive engagement” of the offices of Senators Heitkamp (D-ND) and Durbin (D-IL) staff with Shelley Capito (R-WV), and Lisa Murkowski (R-AK). The opioid legislation represents a rare bipartisan, multiple committee achievement.

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The fleeting childhood of U.S. border children

By Darlene Byrne, Judge, 126th Judicial District Court
The comments in this paper are solely the opinions of the writer and no other organization.  

As a judge in Texas who has presided over many hundreds of child abuse and neglect cases since 2003, I have seen firsthand what the trauma of removing a child from a parent can do to the child. The parent-child relationship is one of our most sacred and precious fundamental and constitutional rights, as recognized by many U.S. and Texas Supreme Court cases.

Sentencing innocent children at our U.S. borders, with instant removal from their parents with no notice, no warning, and no due process goes against the moral code of this nation. The events taking place at our southern border are no less traumatic for the affected children than cases in which a child is removed from their parents because of allegations of abuse and neglect.

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“Government-Sanctioned Child Abuse”: Separating Kids, Parents at Border

Government officials are doing irreparable harm to families seeking asylum. They are separating children from their families, no matter the age of the child.

The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) and over 200 other child welfare organizations, which have become increasingly sensitized to early life stress, have condemned the practice of child-parent separations. The head of the AAP, Colleen Kraft, has written an op-ed against it.

She says: “Officials at the Department of Homeland Security claim they act solely “to protect the best interests of minor children.””

Hardly. Is it ignorance or malice? We don’t know, but the justifications sound both ignorant and malicious.

What ignorance are they displaying? Here is a short description:

Human children are not like other animals. They are born so immature they look like fetuses of other animals till about 18 months of age. In the first years of life, children co-construct their biological and social capacities, organizing their basic features around the experiences they have.  The norms for our species is the evolved nest. One specific need that separation denies is physical affection from known caregivers. This need among social mammals like us was well documented by Harry Harlow’s monkey experiments. Young monkeys deprived of their mother’s touch developed into aggressive and autistic (socially awkward) individuals, never to recover.

Extensive distress shifts development, undermining what otherwise develops in a loving supportive environment –biologically healthy systems and social engagement. Instead extensive distress enhances primitive survival mechanisms in ways that grow to harm self and others—e.g., the stress response becomes hyperreactive. Because the first years of life are so sensitive to experience, the individual may never recover to reach their full potential (although they may recover enough to survive—i.e., what is often called “resilience”).

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Those who separate immigrant children from parents might as well be beating them with truncheons

Aimmigrants
Central American asylum seekers, including a Honduran girl, 2, and her mother, are taken into custody near the U.S.-Mexico border in June in McAllen, Texas.

They all agree. Physicians for Human Rights. American Medical Association. American Academy of Pediatrics. American Psychiatric Association. National Association of Pediatric Nurse Practitioners. 

Separating children from their parents or caregivers hurts children. Between April 19 and May 31, nearly 2,000 children were separated from their parents. As Celeste Fremon reported in WitnessLa,  that number has now passed 2,300 children (and is increasing by more than 60/day), with another 11,000 locked up in everything from large cages to a converted Walmart. 

“To pretend that separated children do not grow up with the shrapnel of this traumatic experience embedded in their minds is to disregard everything we know about child development, the brain, and trauma,” says a petition signed by more than 9,000 mental health professionals and 172 organizations.

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Tonier Cain Deserves an Evidence-Based Apology

Tonier Cain. Photo: Yi-Chin Lee/USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin

Editor’s note: Over 15 years, Tonier Cain was arrested 83 times, and convicted 66 times. She was addicted to crack. She was a prostitute. She had four children and lost them to child protective services. Remarkably, she didn’t give up hope, and one day, she found someone in the system who knew about trauma and who didn’t give up on her. Cain now advocates for trauma-informed care in prisons and mental health facilities. She gives speeches around the country and the world. Cissy White was fortunate to attend a conference in North Carolina where Cain gave a presentation. This is Cissy’s reaction.
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When Tonier Cain gave a keynote presentation at the Benchmarks’ Partnering for Excellence conference in North Carolina, it took me months to recover from her speech.
Seriously. It was hard to stand after she spoke. When I did, I went right to a yoga mat in the self-care calm room for a while. I took off my high heels and curled up in a ball for a bit.
I’m still digesting her words. It’s not that the content was intense and heavy, though it was. It wasn’t that she talked about a ton of traumatic experiences she had survived – though she did.

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