Phenomenon of child abuse too great to ignore

by Mikel Kwaku Osei Holt

“Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child...”

Eighteen-year-old Malcolm Eiland admitted to slamming 6-month-old Jaiden Eiland on his feet, shaking him so violently that the child went limp.

When the baby passed out, the “father” ran the child’s hand under hot running water. Jaiden started crying and then Eiland squeezed his stomach area until he stopped breathing.

The child died, and now his man/child father has been charged with murder.

The only difference between Malcolm Eiland’s case and thousands of others investigated by local law enforcement each year is that Eiland’s case made the newspaper. If every similar case of abuse were reported, there probably wouldn’t be any room for anything other than the comics in the “Journal Sentinel” each day.

Surely, if this newspaper covered 50% of reported abuse cases, we wouldn’t have room for anything other than presidential politics and Barbara White’s gossip column -- reduced to spotting a few high profile celebrities partyin’ at clubs they shouldn’t be at.

Abuse is a social phenomenon that has reached epidemic proportions in the Black community; some say the manifestation of another phenomena -- teen pregnancy and the proliferation of single-parent households. It’s the elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about, and if you include my definition of child abuse as part of the template, it is among the most pressing problems facing our community today.

By best estimate, this new social phenomena began about 40 years ago, when the Black nuclear family started falling apart, and men veered from the traditional definitions of manhood and found themselves replaced by Uncle Sam as the head of the households.

I’m not trying to politicize the situation, but it’s one heck of a coincidence that about the same time we gained our civil rights, the concept of family was redefined, teen pregnancy and single-parent households became the accepted social norm and our time tested social-cultural norms were locked in a vault, and we jumped off the Freedom Train and we headed down the track of self destruction.

A manifestation of that calamity is abuse in its various forms, a form of racial implosion that continues unabated.

Today, abuse -- particularly child abuse -- is as common as political excuses. It’s overwhelming, with statistics showing that a child is abused somewhere in Milwaukee before you can finish this sentence.

Social scientists attribute this phenomenon to the rise in teen pregnancy -- unprepared and disconnected angry children trying to raise children -- and single parenting. Most children have children without any regard to the stress that comes with parenting. Crying babies irritate them, and as in the Eiland case, they discipline the crying child to stop nature’s way of infant communication.

In cases where the mother is the culprit, there’s no “husband” or “grandmother” (who in many cases is 14- or 15-years-older than the mother), to provide guidance, or temporary relief from the stress.

Under my definition, child abuse includes those women you encounter who cuss out their children in the mall or grocery store for acting like children -- being loud, boisterous, running around.

I encountered one example this past weekend where a child ran into a store display. The mother called the child all kinds of MFs, and said if the “so and so” had listened to her before -- cussing at her and her sister to stop running around -- she wouldn’t be hurt.

To be honest, the “Neckbone’s” conduct, her dearth of parenting skills, her bad language and her obvious inability to communicate without using profanity embarrassed every Black person in the suburban store.

I’ve seen “mothers” hitting their children, calling them bitches, bastards, and stupid “niggers” (I don’t use the word, but I refuse to masquerade it by referring to it as the “n-word”). Each of those adjectives are examples of verbal abuse as far as I’m concerned, and even if you don’t agree, you have to recognize these “mothers’ are planting a seed, nurturing a plantlet whose low self-esteem will manifest itself in ways that will guarantee poor student achievement, violent transgressions or worse.

But it’s a lot deeper than that.

Criminal complaints reveal there are hundreds, if not thousands, of women who sell their daughters for a “hit,” men who sexually abuse their daughters and step-daughters, and boyfriends who avail themselves of innocent girls, and boys, while the mothers turn a blind eye, or equally bad, condone the transgression. (Did you know that adult men impregnate over 70% of teen mothers? That’s rape, another form of abuse.)

There’s a whole category of women whose parenting skills are considered questionable, resulting in a form of abuse that manifests itself in the delinquent children who plague our schools and community.

You’re aware of them. They are the ones who ignore the illegal actions of wayward sons who steal and bring their ill begotten gains home with them -- starting with stolen bikes and iPods. The mothers know they can’t afford those items to put under a Christmas tree, or were given them by a rich friend whose parents upgraded his equipment.

I’ve heard of mothers who stake a claim; receive a tribute from their children’s illegal activities. They might get a few dollars, or enjoy the television or computer the child brings home. In other situations, the parent knows their child is selling drugs, but needs the $20 or $30 their son adds to the household pie.

I was in court last week when a judge lectured a young 18-year-old that was charged with his first offense -- possession of marijuana. The mother wasn’t in court -- a fact the judge noted, but the non-custodial father was.

The judge made a point of noting that dichotomy, recalling that during his recent stint as a children’s court judge that was more often than not the case. In a significant percentage of cases, Black teens would appear before him without a parent present at all!

In many cases, they were complicit.

Several years ago, I wrote a column about my observations over two days at the children’s court. What amazed me most was that in the handful of cases involving White teenagers, two parents accompanied them.

I only saw two Black men there during my two days of observations. In about half the cases, the Black children were by themselves. In several cases where the mother was present, she acknowledged she had lost “control” of the child. She tried her best. But she fell short.

You know the rest of that story as well.

In the case of the 18-year-old first offender, he was given a break because his father was present. The judge went out of his way to question the father, and told the young man he was lucky to have a man in his life, one who cared, as evidenced by his presence in the courtroom.

I know the father and son, intimately. I also knew the mother fit the category of women who “raise their daughters and love their sons.”

Actually, the mother did a poor job of raising her daughter as well. She never attended a parent/teacher conference. She allowed her children to run the streets from an early age. She turned her back when she obviously knew her son was selling marijuana (not a serious drug, she rationalized, while accepting money from him and allowing his thug friends to use her house), and justified her lack of parenting by asserting life had dealt her a bad hand.

Like many women who will be described during the fatherhood conference this weekend, the women used her children like pawns, consistently stopped their serial fathers from acquiring custody, punishing them by not allowing visitation when they didn’t “play the game” according to her rules, or found another girlfriend. The courts contributed to the problem, slapping her on the wrist each time a father filed a contempt complaint.

By the way, that 7-year-old boy who begs you for money outside the store is her youngest son. Maybe you should ask why he isn’t in school at 11 a.m. In truth, he is hungry; he didn’t have any breakfast. But if you give him a quarter, he will use it to buy some candy or potato chips.

Your alternative is to call the police. At least they will feed him a bologna sandwich before they return him home. The Neckbone will probably look up from her television set, put down her beer and ask the boy why he isn’t in school? She’ll then cuss him out, burp, and return to “All My Chillin’s.” The cycle will continue the next day.

The Neckbone is not unique. But she’s probably a better parent than those who make up another category.

They consist of the mentally unstable, deranged, whose conduct transcends rationality. We’re not dealing with stupidity, but psychological defect.

I could give you dozens of examples, but a conversation with an eyewitness this past weekend -- one that prompted this column -- provides an adequate example.

The sister has been buying school clothes for her niece’s two children for the past few years. Her niece has four children, by three men. She only knows the father of one of them. She’s angry, frustrated with life and mad at the world. She takes out her frustration on her children.

She also is adept at playing the system, receiving social security, WIC and food stamps, even though she never makes it through the month with food in the house.

Her latest boyfriend -- the sperm donor of her youngest child -- gets his share, while the children suffer.

Family members encouraged the benefactor not to buy school clothes for the siblings this year, calling her an “enabler.” At some point, the cycle must be broken, and that will only occur when she stops buying clothes for the children, letting the “mother” off the hook.

Family members recommend calling in social services -- again.

The sister agreed, and decided when her great niece and nephew called this past August, that she would tell them she couldn’t buy them any clothes. She held firm through their appeal. She held steadfast when they explained they had only a handful of clothes, most of which they had outgrown. She held firm over and over, until the tears flowed. And then she finally caved in. Her maternal instinct, her love for the children gave ground to the rationality for tough love.

It was a few weeks later that the aunt learned the wayward mother had taken the girl’s new panties for herself, and when her child objected, cut up her new bras. Her actions didn’t make sense, but we’re not dealing with a rational person.

The young teenager objected. She paid a price for standing up for herself; the extent to which no one knows for sure.

The young girl is too afraid to say what happened when she challenged her mother, but she did beg several relatives to allow her to stay with them. The mother is also, reportedly, under investigation by authorities. But for the time being, she remains at home.

Late last week, the young girl called her great aunt again, asking for money to buy sanitary napkins and new panties. She had approached her mother, who apparently laughed away her plight, instructing her to use “toilet paper,” and wash her single pair of panties each night.

I wish that I were making this up. What’s worse, I’ve heard stranger stories. This one doesn’t rank among the top 10.

What would you do if you were the aunt? Or maybe I should ask, what will you do about your cousin, sister, friend or acquaintance you know who is living under similar circumstances? Be honest. You know someone who abuses their child, whether it’s calling their children niggers or bitches, or selling them to get a fix. You know of children whose lives are permanently scarred by parents without the skills, common sense or maternal instincts. You know some Neckbones who shouldn’t be trusted to care of a bowl of goldfish, much less a child.

This phenomenon continues unabated because we all know someone but either turn our backs, fail to act, or put it off on someone else. We fall in the category of an enabler, an abettor, or a condoner.

But we can’t escape its ramifications. The child that steals from you, the one who hit his teacher, the punk who cussed you out at the grocery store are products of this social phenomena, as are the thousands of drop outs, criminals and mentally disturbed.

We can hide our heads in the sand. But chances are the products of abuse will someday kick us in our exposed butts.

Hotep.