Chapter 2 - For Your Own Good
In the second chapter of
Perry's book we follow the case of Sandy, a four-year-old girl with
an unfathomably tragic and traumatic story who is being asked to
testify in the case of her mother's murder, to which she herself, at
only three years old, was a witness – and very nearly a victim.
Perry recounts being contacted by a lawyer, Sandy's
guardian-ad-litem, in the hopes that he might be able to prepare
Sandy for her testimony, and being unable to keep himself from
intervening in this case.
As I'm sure it did for
many, if not all, readers, this chapter struck particularly hard for
me but in a highly specific way. The case of Sandy is by every
measure horrific and graphic; but it is maybe due in large part to
that dark and sinister aspect of Sandy's story that drew me, as it
did Perry, so deeply into her case. Had I been in Perry's place at
the time, I too could not have restrained myself from taking up her
case, no matter how much else I had going on in my life at the time.
Reading about Sandy's work with Perry brought out a lot of anger for
me: anger toward the perpetrator, of course, but also against the
courts for asking a preliterate traumatized child to testify against
her would-be murderer, against the systems which tacitly denied her
care, against the circumstances of her assault and attempted murder,
against anything and everything that could drive a human being to do
something so terrible. And the titular phrase, “it's for your own
good, dude” - it stuck with me as I read it, as Sandy repeated it
during therapy sessions. I couldn't help but wonder what that could
possibly mean, what could possibly be the motivation behind such a
thing. Under what circumstances could slitting the throat of a
three-year-old in cold blood after raping and murdering her mother
right in front of her – under what circumstances could such an act
ever be for the good of anyone?
Reading this chapter,
feeling my anger swell and bubble to the surface, served as a stark
reminder for me of what started me down the path to social work to
begin with. The anger, the frustration, I felt reading this chapter
is a very familiar, very particular anger, the kind that is tinged
with disgust: so potently offensive to my sense of justice, my sense
of decency, my senses kindness and goodwill and love and basic
humanity. But ultimately, it is also an aspect of why I chose to do
the work that I do.
In truth, in my own
practice, I find that I perform at my peak with high acuity patients
– though I work primarily with adults, and I've never encountered a
patient with a case like Sandy's. When the stress is on, when the
stakes are high, when the presenting problems are systemically
complex or violent or abysmal, this is when I feel I am most in my
element, where I am best able to do what I've been trained to do with
the knowledge and skills I've acquired. Sandy's case is squarely
within the bounds of my element, though I recognize that I still have
so, so much to learn – about trauma, about therapy, about children,
and about human behavior.
I'm glad that Perry ended
on a high note with Sandy's case, to deliberately stop to tell us
that she's “doing well.” I know that, personally, I definitely
appreciated that knowledge. And on that high note I felt invigorated,
hopeful, despite the anger I felt about the circumstances of her case; I felt like maybe through my own practice I could be a
touchstone, a stepping stone, a cornerstone, in someone's life like
Perry was for Sandy.
There is something profoundly human about the work that we do. For me, this chapter was a solemn and necessary reminder of that, and what it looks like in the most extreme cases.
I agree that it is really difficult for me to imagine someone trying to slit a three-year-olds throat while saying "it's for your own good dude." The events of Sandy's case are horrific as you said, and anger is a very valid feeling after reading this chapter. I was particularly angry at the system she was placed into after her mother died - numerous foster homes with zero mental health services. Plus, these foster homes had no idea of her trauma and were probably not well equipped to manage it. Her case also got lost among the copious amounts of other high-risk family and child cases. I was shocked that her case had opened right after the traumatic incident, but it was being reviewed 10 days before the trial. smh.
ReplyDeleteThe fact that you could reframe this anger into how it's impacted why you're doing what you're doing shows how dedicated you are to the profession! I don't think of any of could be social workers without valuing social justice, human dignity, love, kindness, and goodwill. And, it's amazing to hear that you love working with high acuity patients. That can be some of the most stressful work, in my opinion. Dealing with crises, complex cases, and stressful settings is a challenge, but we absolutely need people like you who can work in that field. It's so important for everyone to find that setting where we each come alive and can use our unique skills and traits to help others.
It also made me happy to hear that Sandy improved and could live a well functioning life. It gives me hope that treatment and therapy can make an impact and help one heal from the most devastating traumas. Sometimes I wonder how effective treatment is for people and how much of an impact I am making, but hearing success stories such as Sandy's makes me eager to continue to practice.
This case was really hard for me too, the savagery of the crime and the audacity of the legal system to put this child on to testify was absolutely mind turning. I know that the CPS system is overwhelmed, but this child needed so much more so sooner than she did. I don't blame Perry for dropping everything to help this child. It makes me think that there are other children who slip through the cracks and who do have to testify when they shouldn't have to. Honestly, it is this kind of situation that makes me scared to work with CPS, because I really feel that I would burn out because of the red tape and the systemic failure of these children. I admire that you can work in crisis situations with children! I would love to know more about what that is like, and what path led you there.
ReplyDeleteI too wondered what the phrase "it's for your own good dude" means. There is a part of me that thinks that there was another person there who was an accomplice and they believed that if everyone was dead they wouldn't be caught. But no matter what, its horrible that a person can believe that a child's life is so easy to throw away. I think that it, in conjunction with how she was handled by the legal system, it was clear that Perry was coming in at the right time and doing the right therapy for her needs and her trauma. Seeing how the play therapy evolved for them was a really beautiful thing to see, and it was so powerful to see how she would recreate the trauma and process it within herself through the time that they were in session. And I too was glad to know that she was doing ok, it gave me a sense of closure that we didn't have with the previous chapter.
I reacted to your blog post with similar anger and distress about the circumstances that we were presented with in this Chapter. I often also get very angry and intolerant at the systems that have been oppressive to the people and outraged by the very ones that are supposed to be supporting our young ones.
ReplyDeleteI really appreciated your outward disgust toward the perpetrator because as I was reading the chapter I just kept feeling sad for Sandy. I wonder if my immediate feelings of fury were prevented because of my exposure to victims and offenders in my Restorative Justice class last semester. Let me clarify I am in no way justifying the atrocious acts that this man did towards Sandy and her mother, and also, I can’t help but wonder what this offender had been through in his own life.
In our Restorative Justice class we were confronted with our own thoughts and feelings about victims and offenders! We were presented with panels of both and given a plethora of readings to dissect and challenge our own views of who we though these people were. We visited the Giddings State School and met with 4 young men who had a mixture of offenses. I can honestly say that I had never sat down next to and spoken with young men who had has these offenses before. They shared their stories and the work they were doing to bettering themselves in juvi and their hopes and dreams for their future. What I found was that many of these youth themselves are products of their deteriorating neighborhoods, families, and friendships. They experienced racism, didn’t have parental figures or positive adult role models supporting them, and saw no hope for their future in the same conditions they were living in. They shared about the abuse and neglect that they had experienced and the encouragement that their therapy was giving them inside the jail. I left that day feeling very confused, angry, and hopeful. One of the most impactful take-aways from this class was that…there is a fine line between victim and offender, it just depends on where you start the story. In some ways we were asked to see the humane part of people after knowing they had performed some of the most inhumane acts.
Thank you Alex, for knowing that you have the capacity to work with clients who have experienced such extreme trauma.