Dragging a Child Abuses Her FOREVER
I burst into tears reading this headline. Child dragged by her hair at Wal-Mart. Deep deep sorrow I rarely want to revisit, let alone share.
I vividly felt and saw what happened to me over 60 years ago. PROOF emotional abuse lasts far longer than some physical abuse.
I was dragged by my hand, as my little child body was dragged over the black pavement behind Allen’s, the local grocery store in Northridge, circa mid-1950s. I came home bloodied and bruised. I tried not to cry, but it hurt so much! Not just physically, but much more lasting, emotionally and psychologically.
My father, who suffered from extreme PTSD from WW2 and life-long issues, was angry. My mother was having a small get-together with friends. My father was not happy about it. I don’t know why my father took me to the grocery store. I only know what it felt like being dragged across the harsh, pebbly blacktop pavement.
I recall sitting on the side of the bathtub, crying, because my knees were bloody and bruised. My mother used tweezers to remove the grit and pebbles embedded in my knees. She kept muttering about it, angry at him. She was unable and unwilling to do anything.
By that time, I was a constant scapegoat for my father’s anger. The beatings would last over a decade. But this incident is always vivid. A reminder to one of the worst abuses I suffered.
I never talked about it. My mother always said “Don’t tell anyone.”
Who would I tell? I told her that for decades. “NEVER TELL” was her mantra. About a lot of family things. I had no friends. I wasn’t close to neighbors. I was part of a big family but never part IN a big family.
Who would they believe? I was WORTHLESS in so many eyes. That feeling never leaves. Ever.
What could they do? Turns out, some family members knew. I was shocked talking to my cousin after my mother passed. SHE KNEW. Never said a word to me. And I was so kind and helpful to her during a rough time in her life.
Who else knew? I only know NO ONE ever did a thing to comfort me.
No one ever said I was a good girl. I cleaned. I cooked. I sewed. I studied hard and always got good grades. I made art. Since my earliest times.
Yet no one ever said I was a good girl. Everyne KNEW I was exceptionally bright and so talented. But no one said “Let’s put ya in some art classes for kids.” No one said anything to ease my pain.
No one ever said I was unfairly treated. No one ever said let’s help her.
No one ever said “What/How are you feeling? Why are you sad? Angry? Withdrawn? How can I help?”
So this woman called the police. Police, going by the book, said because there’s no visible bruises, they can’t do a thing. Won’t do a thing.
Since when is abuse ONLY physical? And telling me forcing this girl to walk with her hair firmly clutched to the shopping cart is NOT physical??
WHO makes these rules? ABUSERS.
I’m with this woman. Time to make a BIG deal outta this.
It is NEVER right to hit a child. NEVER right to hang onto their hair or body. This is so wrong on so many levels.
Thank you and BLESS you, #ErikaBurch @Ericka Burch #ChildAbuseIsEmotional #PoliceOuttaTouch #StopAbuse! #PoliceClueless #AbuseIsNeverOK