It Takes A Village… to raise a child. So, I’m asking bloggers, and in this case friends, from my village to each write a message for me to pass on to my girls. If you’d like to write one, let me know.
This week’s letter is by me. Not to my girls, but to you. This is letter about why I started to this series.
Dear You,
I saw a little girl the other day. She was with her parents. She looked sad. Her parents look sad. Her parents were high. They were grubby, smokes hanging out of their prematurely aged mouths. She was filthy. Her hair unwashed, fine mats gathered at the back of her neckline.
They had taken her to Subway, she had a cookie and a coke. She was smiling, but her eyes were not. They were doing their best.
I wondered if they had a network of friends or family supporting them. I wondered if they had long gone and the only friends left were others locked in their own private chemical-induced hell. I wondered if the little girl had someone to look out for her when things got scary. I wondered if she had someone to look up to other than her parents, who obviously adored her, but were out of their depth. They were drowning in their own history, let alone forging a new path for their child.
Being a parent is hard enough at times, without struggling with your own demons or locked in a cycle of a spiralling drug haze. So much guilt. I can only imagine.
Many children are lucky to be surrounded by positivity, not shielded from the realities of life, but protected from the darkness. Many children are fortunate enough to have food and clean clothes every day. Many children have people to read to them and play with them and take them to museums and coffee shops. Many children go on holidays and have a chance to see the potential of the world. Many do not. Many children from different economic, social, ethical, religious, cultural backgrounds who vary tremendously, but share one thing in common – a safe and happy home.
Many children slip through the cracks. Children you encounter at parks and shopping centres eagerly searching for attention and validation. Children who want to be seen and heard. Children who just want to feel safe.
Many children have a village of people looking out for them, inspiring them and showing them the diversity of the world around them. Many children don’t have a village. They grow old too quickly, their eyes see things many adults never will. They have grown a thick skin and developed suspicion beyond their years. Many children have never had a chance to be naive. They are born cynical. Many children have already had to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.
I think of these children often. I wonder what I can do. If I could open my house to them I would, but I know it’s not that simple. I think of children laying nervously in their bed at night, sleeping in their clothes for warmth. Or the children with all the things in the world, but completely disengaged parents. I think of the children, who from the moment of their birth, are crying out for unconditional love. The children who wander around dark houses in the morning, rustling through the cupboards for something to eat. Plonking themselves in front of the television, with the sound down, scared to wake their sleeping parents. Or hiding in their room, fearful of getting in their parent’s way. Kids accustomed to empty syringe packets and bongs on the table, the smell of weed a normal part of life, not just something that occasionally wafts through the garden on a summer’s night.
I think of the children hit or touched or mentally abused. The children that spend vast amounts of time alone. The hidden children. I wish I could find a way to give them back their childhood.
It takes a village to raise a child and there are many children out there screaming out for one of their own.
Every child is our responsibility.
bigwords x
What a beautiful post, Bianca. It brought tears to my eyes. I worry about those children, too. I wish I could wrap them up in my arms and love them enough to make up for what they lack, but as you said, it’s not so simple. x
It’s such a sad other side, one I see through work often. Emotionally they tear me apart. It does take a village a strong non judgemental village to reach out and help. It’s hard to make the initial step to help especially as we all have a lot going on in life. Any help makes does make a difference to a child’s life when no one else has helped them before. Heart wrenching post x
I dunno…..if you caught me and my mob on a bad day, with dirty clothes cause they’ve been playing outside, and hair matted cause Lilly refuses to brush on pain of shrill noises, and us parent people have dreadlocks too, and we homeschool so there’s no packed lunches, and say me and my man had had a fight, which happens now and then in the best of relationships…….you could probably really easily judge us as harshly as you judged that couple with their kid in the brief moment you saw them. But that would be a very big shame, and would not even get you close to all the other places that we exist as a family, and our relationships, and who we are and what we’re here to learn on the planet and give to it from our unique selves. And living in Nimbin – the drug capital of Australia apparently – there’s many families in which parents smoke a tremendously controversial herb that has many curative properties and could revolutionise industry. And I don’t see the tragic victims of drug hazes painted in this piece anywhere I look. I see a vibrant community where many taboos and secrets are out in the open, and honestly dealt with, and maybe far healthier than in repressing pain and fearing judgement to get addicted instead to numbness, or sex, or daily tv, or stereotyping, or shoplifting, or all the other countless iniquities. I believe we’re all capable of everything, and are indeed connected to everything in our fibres, and maybe instead of building judgemental walls, we can each look inside ourselves and be our authentic selves without worrying how we look to outsiders, and realise that we’re all doing the best with what we’ve got….
Thank you for your comment purely because you are right. I was trying not to sound judgmental, but it’s tricky. As I wrote, there are also children who have “all the things in the world, but completely disengaged parents”. In this instance, the couple were very clearly struggling with very serious chemical addiction. There was no doubt they loved their child, but they were physically and quite clearly emotionally unwell. Families do not look alike, that does not mean they are any less of a family. Like yours, my kids are often out hair mated, covered in dirt, no shoes on as are many other kids, but you can see the joy in their eyes and those of their parents – as you’re family and the many you speak of in your community also do. As a parent I am sure you understand where I am coming from, a place of love for my children and those who are very clearly not in the same environments filled with love. x
I was a sad little girl B. I somehow took the responsibility of the shitty stuff as if it were my own. I’m thankful that I had Grandparents who showed me fun & a Mum who fiercely loved me in spite of her demons & did her best. I’m thankful for good teachers too. And books who were friends to me when I had none. And my little brother. I want to do so much more than I am doing to be part of a village for the kids who are sad. I can’t make the “I have enough on my plate” excuse for much longer not with what I’m learning through Eden’s eyes in particular. A wonderful post lovely. X
I have been involved with families and children for many years. Just recently I wrote a letter in support of a family being found a home, as they are currently in shared crisis accommodation. The child in this family has a very different life to my own children.
I love how you have written this. It is heartfelt and non judgemental. Thanks you fro reminding us all to look beyond ourselves.
My heart hurts for all of these children. Some are slightly visible, but most are not. Families do come in so many shapes and sizes but all should work on providing a safe place, with love for the children that are part of that family. Matted hair and dirty faces are ok if the person putting you to bed at night hugs and kisses that same grubby face and looks forward to seeing you in the morning. For many children this is just not the reality.
We all need a village to help us through. Even those who think they “have it together”.
I have LOVED this series of posts! Thankyou for initiating them Bianca. I have printed them all and stuck them in a scrapbook for my girls when they are a little older. I am hopeful they will be a helpful and humorous guide to life for my children when they need to hear the lessons from someone other than their parents.
Jackie
Sometimes love is not enough, when they are too far down in the pit themselves. But they are loved all the same, as you wrote so eloquently. It’s hard in just one post to touch on every possible combination because there are as many unique family dynamics as there are families in the world… ie. countless! And I can read between the lines in your post and realise that even though you are not bringing every combination to light, you are not excluding or discounting them (rather, the monumental efforts parents all around the world go to, each doing the best they can). The trick is not to judge. It is a colossal hurdle, with so very many privileged, blinkered people walking among us.
Posts like this should be seen as trying to help and highlight and remind. Love your work xoxox
oh that is sad and so beautiful said. It is too easy to quickly judge adn turn away sometimes