Child abuse is a pervasive problem in the United States. We know this and we accept it yet we don’t want to talk about it. Talking about the harm done to children is difficult. It’s sad, disappointing, and it often touches on a very vulnerable part of the psyche. Kids are vulnerable, and we want to protect them from harm. When they are subjected to hurt, it can hurt us adults as well or it can remind us of our own childhood experiences.
I mentioned in a recent post that it’s very difficult to support loved ones in times of trauma. Part of it is because having to think through the negative things that happened to a loved one can produce secondary trauma or even just a set of difficult feelings. I was having a conversation with a friend in which I pointed out how I get queasy when I think about abuse I know friends survived. It’s not that I don’t feel bad or sad when working with clients but my emotional investment is different. With friends, we have a multi-faceted ongoing relationship. With clients, we have a more limited relationship and I have a very specific role.
Some coworkers talk repeatedly about their childhood beatings. This is their terminology, not mine. It upsets me greatly to have to hear it throughout the day, not simply because they talk about it but because they talk positively and happily about acts I consider abusive. They sometimes use these conversations to advance the idea that their own children should be (or should have been) beaten. Recently one coworker fondly described being forced to hide under her childhood bed, beaten smacked with sticks and switches, and getting pulled about by her hair and clothes, and seemed to suggest it was all very much deserved for her behavior. I’ve listened to many such conversations in my workplace and find them exponentially difficult to endure silently once they start saying “But it didn’t do me any harm” or “I turned out fine.”
Every time I hear one of those cliched lines, I find myself wanting to say, “But you want to beat your own kids! What do you mean, ‘fine’?” Of course, this is an emotional reaction because the subject is near to my soul, and what I usually end up doing is taking a number of deep breaths and staying silent. I don’t necessarily consider this to be the best approach for handling such moments but I’m at work and don’t always have the luxury of responding in the manner I’d use elsewhere. So I stay quiet.
Unfortunately, that quiet is far too common. When people like me (trained advocates and survivors with firsthand experience of just how badly things can turn out) stay quiet, others can easily come to believe that abuse is healthy. So I present the proposed two-part guide to handling situations like this one:
- Respond. My personal goal is to respond calmly, succinctly, and reservedly. In other words, not to overshare and not to respond with too much voice quivering. (That second part is harder than the first.) The response should be an elevator pitch. “You sound like you’re having an interesting conversation.” can lead to a very quick “Abuse and trauma have many forms. Understanding how to prevent them can lead to healthier communities and individuals.” Of course, the diplomacy of how to get there is still a confusing issue for me. On the one hand, I don’t really want to go up to coworkers and start saying “You were abused! You have to realize!” or “That behavior is totally unacceptable.” It causes many people to freeze up and become unreceptive, but it’s also rude and apt to start trouble in a place where I need to maintain ongoing working relationships. Nonetheless, the response should be made in some form. Even if it’s to ask more about what’s going on. “What made you want to talk about that today?” “What do you think of that after all these years?” Some form of perceptive listening and guided questioning to rev up to a more involved and open dialogue. Ultimately, while I lack the particulars on what to say and how to say it, I know that a response of some kind is necessary. I also know that the individual situation will determine how it will play out.
- Educate. Not necessarily in the same moment or in the same group but make a wider effort to outreach in those locations. In the past, I’ve taken fundraising for my advocacy to work, and I’ve also solicited volunteers (who want to become advocates) through workplace efforts. It’s not bad to share experiences, and leave the opportunities open and available. I’ve done this, also, by leaving symbols of my volunteer efforts at my desk. A quiet reminder of my advocacy life has actually led some people to ask me questions or to seek out services. Honestly, I find not being ostentatious about it is the best. A clandestine magnet or ribbon can go a long way in desk decoration and also in inviting others to ask what it’s all about.
Really, I wish I didn’t have to hear stories I find sad when I’m doing my day job (since my day job is not specifically related to this type of advocacy) but when I do, I want to have my own coping strategy. I’ve still been trying to make self-care a part of that, particularly because the ladies sometimes touch on stories that make me cringe with remembering my own traumatic experiences.
I am not a professional in this field. I merely offer my opinions and thoughts as they occur to me based on my own experiences. I am willing to listen to alternate viewpoints and discuss variant scenarios but I do reserve the right to remove comments and data I find to be offensive and against my primary purpose of helping survivors.
Edit: Unrelated, but please go read Fem 2pt0’s Policy Wishlist for 2013.
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