If you own a television, smart phone, or interact with more than 2 people each day, you probably were unable to escape the political and cultural commentary this week regarding the testimony of Dr. Ford against Judge Kavanaugh.
It has been a difficult week for me to process all the emotions I have experienced in the midst of a hearing so far removed from me. This post is not political, although the events that have spurred my thoughts certainly are.
In my life and my work, I always hope to be an advocate. When people ask me about the type of social work I do and after I explain that I work in Juvenile Detention, the responses I get are always varied:
“Wow, that must be so hard.”
“Are you ever afraid of the kids you work with?”
“I could never work with kids who have charges like that, good for you.”
These responses are all meant to be encouraging, I think, but I have often wondered at times why people react to the kids I work with in this way.
And I think this week, after watching the hearings and the responses on our nation’s stage, I have a little bit of a better understanding.
I strive to see each child who comes into my office as just that, a child. I intentionally tell every child I meet with that we do not ever need to talk about their charges. That does not mean we will not address inappropriate behavior, but it does mean I do not bring up traumatic memories for these kids in a stressful environment if it is not necessary.
I work with the kids that other people are “afraid of” because I passionately believe in the underdog. The kids with violent charges, petty charges, sexual charges, and runaway charges are all worthy of a second chance. I advocate for these children on a daily basis because I believe, with all of my being, that they will succeed if they are able to.
But for some reason, when the situation becomes further removed, I don’t seem to have that same grace for this man being accused of assault. On the one hand, assault is deeply personal. While this hearing is far enough removed that I could shut off MSNBC at any point, it strikes me in the core of my being because I, along with so many that I know and love, have been affected by assault, and it has lasting, traumatic effects for so many.
At times I think that when I assist kiddos in learning perspective taking skills, I use my approach with my memorized questions and responses, without actually considering what the lives of the people affected by my kids’ actions really look like.
Is it possible that I want these kids to feel supported in a stressful environment so badly that I do not allow myself time to process what impact their actions have had on people in the community?
I tell every child that comes into my closet-sized, stuffy office that what is said there stays there, and that I will always believe what they tell me. I tell the kids this because I want them to know that what they think and believe matters to someone enough that they will be believed without questioning.
But when my kids lie to me, and show to me that they did not uphold the expectations, we talk about it. We talk about what went wrong, and what was difficult for them about doing the right thing. We also talk about why it was so hard for them to tell the truth about messing up, and more often than not the reason has something to do with the patterns they have seen the adults in their lives modeled when it comes to falling short. Yelling, substance abuse, physical abuse, not being able to pay bills on time, or not being able to put a roof over their heads.
The thing is, kids and adults have similar reasons for not telling the truth. As Brené Brown explains throughout her research, the feeling of shame is powerful enough to keep people from exposing their true selves, which includes telling the truth about the times we fall short.
So after watching the hearing this week and feeling pain in my stomach, I think I understand more than ever before why people question the work that I do. I am thankful for this new perspective not because it will effect the way I see my kids in any way, but rather I hope it will effect the way I can take my approach with my clients and offer the same grace to the people outside our facility.
As Senator Leahy said this week, “Bravery is contagious.”
Dr. Ford sharing her story is brave. Reliving trauma when you do not owe that to a single person is courageous. Women are victimized daily, and need to be offered support and resources every time they come forward.
Telling the truth is brave. It takes incredible courage to be vulnerable in our shortcomings and own up to our mistakes. And when we do, we still deserve to be treated with dignity and grace.
So this week, I am reminded that the same bravery victims exhibit when coming forward is needed when the kids in my office and the adults across our country own up to their mistakes. Those who commit crimes need just as much grace as those who come forward to say they were hurt.
And while sometimes it feels like telling the truth may be putting everything on the line, having the courage to say “sorry” can be incredibly healing.
So for me, I think being an ordinary advocate this week looks like being kind to myself and others; To my kids, to strangers, and to those who disagree with me. Justice is an incredibly important part of my life, and I will always advocate for the underdog. Victims need to be heard and believed, and perpetrators need to be asked why they are afraid to say sorry.
This week has been draining and emotionally taxing as millions of women relived their trauma alongside Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, yet her bravery has also inspired so many to shake off this idea of shame and come forward with the truth. I pray that all the kids I work with see this week as a reminder to use their perspective-taking skills and see how our actions affect others. I also hope the world has seen the power in sharing the previously shameful parts of our stories in order to advocate for ourselves and others.
When we dare to offer grace to one another, and to ourselves, we put our bravery on display for the world to see. This week, I’m grateful for Dr. Ford’s bravery. What an example you are.