Treating People like Humans

I’m obsessed with a new show on ABC called “For Life.” It follows a man wrongfully convicted of being a drug kingpin who receives life in prison on his first conviction. It’s based loosely on a true story and is easily one of my favorite dramas on tv.

My favorite part of the show is the female warden of the prison, because she is determined to completely change the way the prison is run. She allows longer visitations, more contact between inmates, and gives them a place to work out and play sports outside.

Basically, she treats them like humans.

I’ve only been inside a prison as a visitor twice and both times were within the last year. So, I will be the first to admit my experience is very limited. However, I noticed something the first time I visited. The mood in the visitation room was extremely subdued. The officer on duty was very stoic and had no visible personality. Now, I should be clear about something. The women in this facility are not on death row with shanks hidden in their pants pocket. Felons yes, but mostly due to a lifelong struggle with addiction.

Anyway, I was immediately told this guard wouldn’t let many things fly. The women were visibly nervous when I started letting Henry roam around the room. He started going towards the American flag and I could tell this was not okay. The guard was giving us the eye and Henry’s biological mom told me I should probably grab him. She told me she was nervous this guard would give her a strike and she was working so hard for no strikes. I just chalked it up to prison life and tried my best to keep Henry from running rampant. At one point, she asked the guard if we could take Henry in the play room and the answer was no. There seemed to be no apparent reason for this answer other than the fact that she could.

However, the next time I visited I noticed something different. There was a different guard on duty and the room was visibly more relaxed. Women were smiling and talking a bit louder and the guard even made an effort to engage in a bit of small talk. The play room was utilized and Henry was able to make his way over to the coveted flag. It was a better experience completely, but the reason didn’t hit me until one night when I was watching my beloved show.

The second guard treated these women like humans. She celebrated their families, smiled at their children, and allowed them to play together in the playroom. She still followed every single rule they had, but did it while remembering these were actual people. With real families. And real lives outside of these four walls.

We wonder why people are so often released from jail just to find themselves right back in. Have you ever been around a child who can do nothing right with their parents? Seriously. They wake up and screw up from the second their feet hit the floor. They are too loud, too rowdy, too rude, too messy, etc. etc. And after a while they just quit caring. They are going to stay in trouble no matter what so they might as well have fun while doing it.

Now, before you come at me with, “but kids are not hardened criminals” or “these people are terrible people.” Let me tell you something. I’ve heard about some kids doing some pretty sad things. Starting fires, offending against a younger child, and so forth. But make no mistake….if we tried to rehabilitate them by putting them in a metal cell in our closet, we would be the ones arrested. We don’t do that because it wouldn’t work. And because it’s extremely cruel. As parents, we may send our child somewhere for help, but it would look more like a therapeutic center and less like shackles and chains.

I’m not asking for a debate on whether adult criminals should be incarcerated. Of course someone who kills another person should be put away. Or someone who sex traffics young girls. And so on and so on. The day sin entered the world, there became a need for rules and regulations.

But I am saying this. As a society, we have to quit treating humans like caged animals and being shocked when they bite.

Same Blood

“Grace and I can share popsicles because we have the same blood.” Annalise made this comment a few weeks ago and though it made me laugh, it also made me think. What did that mean in her young mind? That Trey, Addison, and Henry weren’t her siblings? No. That’s not what she meant. That we weren’t her “real” family? Maybe on a subconscious level, but I don’t think she meant that either.

What I think she meant was exactly what she said. Her and Grace share DNA so they can share food. In her 8 year old mind their germs are the same. Now, you should know something. There was a time this would’ve offended me. Truly. That’s how fragile I was as an adoptive mom. I would’ve felt the need to stand up for whatever injustice I felt this did to Trey, Addie, and Henry and I would’ve needed to make this right. Lest they feel left out.

Not long ago, Annalise did something that was the spitting image of something J.O. would do. I jokingly said, “oh my goodness, you are so much like your daddy.” To which Anna quipped back and said, “which one?” Because again…she’s smart. She realizes that she shares DNA with another man so technically she doesn’t get innate traits from J.O. Now, ashamedly years ago I would have said something like: “What do you mean, which one? You only have one dad.” But, we all know that to be a lie.

I was talking to a therapist years ago and told her Annalise continually told us she would live with us for a bit, and then go back to her other parents. This was right after the adoption and it was devastating to me. I still had the mentality of wiping out her past and rewriting it with only us. Because, I had a God complex apparently. And I will never forget what the therapist said to me. She said, “And so what if she does? What if she leaves at 18 and does just that? Will you have the kind of relationship that can survive it?”

Ouch. The answer was no. Would that be a hard reality if it happened? Of course. But, does it keep me awake at night? No. The truth is, Annalise and Grace have traits that are clearly from someone else. Physical traits aside, those girls can bend in ways that would literally snap Addie right in half. Henry spends his days in the dirt making truck sounds while Trey hates to be dirty. All kids are different. Biological or not. Trey and Addison could not be more different if they tried, but they get certain undeniable traits from J.O. and I.

I suppose the point is this. When you know better you do better. I feel like our world needs to hear this now more than ever. Don’t live on traditions simply because they make you feel safe. Truthfully, the very things some of us hold near and dear are the very things that make others feel threatened. Addie and Trey were not threatened at all when Annalise wouldn’t share her popsicle. Other than simply wanting the rest of it, there was no injustice done. There was no oppression to them by missing out. There was nothing holding them back from their dreams of getting their own popsicle one day. It was a perceived injustice that truthfully just made them irritated.

Obviously this is an exaggerated and silly example, but hopefully you get the point. I could’ve silenced Annalise that day and she no doubt would’ve conformed to my desires. She would’ve learned to hide the hard things and not speak up about things that make us uncomfortable. I would “win” and she would lose. Until the day she had her own voice and freedom to talk. And would people see a bitter, ungrateful adoptee? Or would they listen? Would they care about the history? The backstory? The therapist who advised her adoptive mom all those years ago to make better decisions? Or would they think she was threatening the entire system of adoption and try to silence her? Would she become an “angry adoptee” or a voice of reason?

Maybe it’s time to listen to those traditionally silenced. Even if we don’t understand. Or like it. Or even agree. Will our relationships withstand this? Are they strong enough? If your answer is no, it may be time to figure out why.

What’s our role?

I’ve been struggling, like many of you, to know what part to play in everything that’s going on right now. I can’t fathom the fear of being pulled over, profiled in my neighborhood, or fearing for my son’s life.

However, we’ve recently had a small glimpse of what’s been happening for years. We’re hearing from our friends and family about things that should’ve never been allowed to happen. And although we can’t relate, we should be outraged. As long as our outrage on Facebook matches our everyday actions.

The truth is, we can’t be quiet any longer about racial injustice. We can’t allow bigotry and hate to drive violence. But, let’s be careful not to turn this into empty words with no action. If you’re posting on Facebook but still hoping your daughter never brings home a black man, don’t post. If you’re marching downtown but only doing it for a good selfie, stay home.

I have no idea how my friends raising black children must feel right now. Truly I don’t. My heart is absolutely breaking for them. But, I do know what’s it like to raise white kids. If you’re a mom raising white children you have an immense responsibility. I will be the first to admit, our small circle is not very diverse. So that means my children will learn about different races and religions from us and the people we do life with. Choose wisely. I’ve heard people say racist things my entire life, and I’ve made racist comments before. And for not speaking up, or shutting up, I’m sorry.

The day Addison figured out she was white, she was in the back of my car and in 1st grade. It was a very innocent moment and one I will never forget. She had never understood that people were referring to skin color when they said white, black, brown, etc. However, from that day forward her ideals and values started slowly being shaped. They are still being shaped by her surroundings and friend groups, but primarily by me and J.O.

Parents, make sure you’re not telling your kids that God loves everyone, but hiding your valuables when your son’s best friend comes over and he’s black. Parents, make sure you aren’t telling your kids that Jesus would condone racism, but then questioning why whites don’t get a white history month. Or saying things like, “well, we don’t know the real story.” Parents, make sure you aren’t telling your kids that Jesus hates injustice, but then using terms like thugs which has a negative racial undertone. Don’t believe me on that one? If you’re ever tempted to use it, think about who you’re referring to. If you’re saying thugs and meaning upper/middle class white kids, I stand corrected.

I can tell my kids one thing all day long, but the way I really act is what they will pick up on. Maybe one of the most important things for white people to do right now is ask God to reveal our own hidden predjudices and racism? Maybe you’re worried about what your friends will think if your child dates a black guy or girl? Ask God to call that out. Maybe you inadvertently clutch your purse tighter when a black man walks by. Ask God to reveal that. And then turn away. Repent. And do better.

March. Post. Speak up. But make sure you take that behavior home. Especially if you’re raising a house full of privileged white kids like me.