(no subject)
My boyfriend amazes me.
Last night, at StandUp for Kids...which...okay, you have to read Mark's awesome entry on StandUp because it's so spot on and powerful. (
markrox45)
Last night was a very different night at StandUp. We had a great group of students from Marist, a local private school, come to serve dinner and host a Valentine's Day party at the center. These kids brought balloons, tablecloths, insane amounts of candy, cupcakes to decorate, a bingo game with tons of prizes, gift bags for each of our kids...not crappy gift bags, either...these had Target gift cards in them and stuff. I get to the center early to greet the group and talk to them about what we do, where our kids come from, and what their lives are like. I try to somehow show these suburban-bred upper-middle-class youth what it's like to grow up without much of anything, hating yourself and your life, moving from crack house to squat to the streets to a brief stint in a semi-decent apartment....until they get evicted and have to move on. Being a suburban-bred middle-class youth myself, I can't speak from personal experience. All I can talk about is my experiences over the past years working with the Invisible Kids. These kids don't merely "slip through the cracks" in The System or in Society. There is a huge, gaping abyss out there that somehow, conveniently, too many people overlook.
So the Invisible Kids make do. They get by. They put up with mother's boyfriends trying to get in their pants. They do what they can to take care of their brothers and sisters. They make their own broken families with other Invisible Kids, calling each other brother and cousin despite any real relation. Except they'll be the first to tell you that if someone jumps in and helps you keep from getting killed or raped, guess what- that person is as much of a real relation as you can get.
But the streets aren't really a place for families. It's a stage for the most primal battle of all. Survival. So there are wars that have to be fought. And when you don't have shit to call your own, you're left with just one thing... your dignity. And dignity, especially when you are an Invisible Kid, is to be protected at all costs.
Last night, one of our kids violated the golden rule of StandUp. He brought weapons into the center. Not a gun, thank god, but brass knuckles and nunchuks. In the past, when he's brought weapons, he's turned them in. All the kids who carry weapons do. Because they respect StandUp and what we're about. They know we're a safe place and they want to keep it that way. But last night, D had a mission.
There had been talk, over the past few months. Words and threats between D and C. C still has friends on the streets, C still hustles. D has moved on, into an apartment. He's made some enemies because of his temper, and because of his transition. It all came to a head last night when D walked in, walked up to C, and dislocated his jaw with a swift punch and the aid of his brass knuckles.
Instant chaos.
Mark was able to get between them, and I'm so grateful he didn't get hurt. I'm equally grateful he reacted so quickly, because it could've been a lot more than C's jaw that got messed up. D is pure muscle. He lifts weights constantly. C is smaller and clearly no match for D's aggression. Thankfully, the attack was halted quickly.
But the Marist girls were freaked out. The party didn't happen. One of our StandUp Kids urinated on herself, that's how startled she was. Another one of our StandUp girls had a similar PTSD reaction...after years of abuse, you don't always react calmly to violence in what should be a safe place. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, backing herself into a corner and trying to call the cops.
The volunteers were able to get things under control, but we were definitely rattled. I did my best to explain the situation to the Marist students. Explain that this never happens. Apologize that we can't have the party now, we have to shut down the center tonight and debrief. Make sure this doesn't happen ever again. Calm down our kids. Decide whether we need to file a police report. Take C to the hospital. Get S a change of clothes.
What a night.
But...that's their life. We try to give them an escape from that. To help them work towards a new life, one where they don't have to be worried about getting beaten with brass knuckles. And last night showed us just how far we still have to go.
Last night, at StandUp for Kids...which...okay, you have to read Mark's awesome entry on StandUp because it's so spot on and powerful. (
markrox45)
Last night was a very different night at StandUp. We had a great group of students from Marist, a local private school, come to serve dinner and host a Valentine's Day party at the center. These kids brought balloons, tablecloths, insane amounts of candy, cupcakes to decorate, a bingo game with tons of prizes, gift bags for each of our kids...not crappy gift bags, either...these had Target gift cards in them and stuff. I get to the center early to greet the group and talk to them about what we do, where our kids come from, and what their lives are like. I try to somehow show these suburban-bred upper-middle-class youth what it's like to grow up without much of anything, hating yourself and your life, moving from crack house to squat to the streets to a brief stint in a semi-decent apartment....until they get evicted and have to move on. Being a suburban-bred middle-class youth myself, I can't speak from personal experience. All I can talk about is my experiences over the past years working with the Invisible Kids. These kids don't merely "slip through the cracks" in The System or in Society. There is a huge, gaping abyss out there that somehow, conveniently, too many people overlook.
So the Invisible Kids make do. They get by. They put up with mother's boyfriends trying to get in their pants. They do what they can to take care of their brothers and sisters. They make their own broken families with other Invisible Kids, calling each other brother and cousin despite any real relation. Except they'll be the first to tell you that if someone jumps in and helps you keep from getting killed or raped, guess what- that person is as much of a real relation as you can get.
But the streets aren't really a place for families. It's a stage for the most primal battle of all. Survival. So there are wars that have to be fought. And when you don't have shit to call your own, you're left with just one thing... your dignity. And dignity, especially when you are an Invisible Kid, is to be protected at all costs.
Last night, one of our kids violated the golden rule of StandUp. He brought weapons into the center. Not a gun, thank god, but brass knuckles and nunchuks. In the past, when he's brought weapons, he's turned them in. All the kids who carry weapons do. Because they respect StandUp and what we're about. They know we're a safe place and they want to keep it that way. But last night, D had a mission.
There had been talk, over the past few months. Words and threats between D and C. C still has friends on the streets, C still hustles. D has moved on, into an apartment. He's made some enemies because of his temper, and because of his transition. It all came to a head last night when D walked in, walked up to C, and dislocated his jaw with a swift punch and the aid of his brass knuckles.
Instant chaos.
Mark was able to get between them, and I'm so grateful he didn't get hurt. I'm equally grateful he reacted so quickly, because it could've been a lot more than C's jaw that got messed up. D is pure muscle. He lifts weights constantly. C is smaller and clearly no match for D's aggression. Thankfully, the attack was halted quickly.
But the Marist girls were freaked out. The party didn't happen. One of our StandUp Kids urinated on herself, that's how startled she was. Another one of our StandUp girls had a similar PTSD reaction...after years of abuse, you don't always react calmly to violence in what should be a safe place. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, backing herself into a corner and trying to call the cops.
The volunteers were able to get things under control, but we were definitely rattled. I did my best to explain the situation to the Marist students. Explain that this never happens. Apologize that we can't have the party now, we have to shut down the center tonight and debrief. Make sure this doesn't happen ever again. Calm down our kids. Decide whether we need to file a police report. Take C to the hospital. Get S a change of clothes.
What a night.
But...that's their life. We try to give them an escape from that. To help them work towards a new life, one where they don't have to be worried about getting beaten with brass knuckles. And last night showed us just how far we still have to go.