When Sarina and I arrived at Marshalls department store tonight and stood on line to return something, there was a bit of a commotion going on at the front registers. A little Spanish girl, 2 1/2, maybe 3 years old, was standing among the customers on line and she was shaking a little bottle of soda. She had a big grin on her face. The cashiers were trying to get her to stop, warning her that if she opened that cap, it was going to explode everywhere. They asked her where her mommy was.I'm not sure if the girl spoke English, or if she spoke at all yet. But she didn't move, and just kept on grinning and giggling as she shook up that soda. There was some buzz-- where was this girl's mother? A worker from the layaway desk called out, "She's in the Misses department. Since she walked in, she's just let her daughter walk around the store alone."
After another minute or two, one of the workers tracked down the girl's mother. "You have to watch her," the woman said. "She's just running around the whole store. You can't let her do that."
When it came my turn at the returns desk, I appropriately harrumphed and told the cashier how much it bothered me to see neglectful parenting like that. "You'd be amazed," the cashier told me. "We see it here all the time."
Armed with $7.10 in store credit, Sarina and I headed straight for the book aisle, of course. We took our time trying to select just the right thing-- a Disney compilation? A lift-the-flap book? I was halfway through reading her Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late (very cute, by the way) when the little girl appeared next to us. She wanted to hear the story, too. There were just two problems: (a) she was unsupervised again, and (b) she had a big foam rocket in her mouth. I have no idea where this rocket came from, but I assume she didn't bring it in herself.
"Uh-oh," I told her in my cartoony mom-voice. "That doesn't belong in your mouth."
Sarina backed me up. "You're not allowed to chew on that."
But the girl just giggled and smiled at us. I made some silly faces at her, and she laughed hard enough that the rocket fell out of her mouth. She picked it up off the floor and started to put it right back in her mouth, but when I made a move to take it, she instead tossed it into my cart and laughed some more.
"Where is your mommy?" I asked her.
She didn't answer me. She wanted to play. I looked around and didn't see anyone nearby who looked like a potential mother for this girl.
I should have surrendered to her adorableness, but at that moment, I just felt annoyance. Why was I babysitting? I summoned a nearby worker and explained the situation-- that this was the same girl whose mother had already been warned 20 minutes earlier. The worker assured me she'd take care of it, and as we took off for the children's clothing department, I heard the little girl worriedly cry out, "Mommy?"
I told Sarina that it was too bad that the little girl had a mommy who didn't take good care of her.
"But she has nice hair," Sarina said. I got a kick out of that. The girl's hair was dark brown and curly, pulled into a ponytail with tendrils falling out. Her clothes didn't match.
Sarina and I spent about 10 minutes debating which dress looked most like Sleeping Beauty's, and which color tutu was the prettiest, before making our final selections and heading to the register. Just as we got on line, I saw the worker and the little girl making their way up the middle aisle to meet up with the girl's mother, who had been checking out.
Yes, the girl's mother did all of her shopping, stood on a long line, and paid for her items without ever checking on her little girl's whereabouts.
"Mommy!" the girl called. The mother signaled for the girl to follow her out. I couldn't make out what she said, but whatever it was, the girl turned and started to walk in the other direction. And that's when it happened.
The mother grabbed the girl's ponytail, and yanked hard. The girl cried out. The mother dragged her several feet by her ponytail, then slapped her, then picked her up and headed for the door. I stood there dumbfounded.
Call the police, I thought... but a moment later, realized the futility of that idea-- the woman was leaving. She would be in the parking lot in 10 seconds. No way would she still be around by the time police arrived.
What do I do? What in the world do I do?
I looked at the people in line around me. They were all staring. The woman in front of me in line seemed frozen as I was, and the couple behind me were making nasty little comments, but clearly not about to do anything. I wanted to do something. My thoughts raced. Sarina was in the shopping cart with me. I couldn't run off and challenge this woman; I couldn't risk the confrontation. I'm not even sure if I would have risked it if she weren't there, though I'd like to think I would have.
So I did nothing.
"The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing."
I did nothing.
I stood there for those five or ten seconds or so that it took for the woman to get out the door, mind sifting through a hundred bad ideas and coming up with nothing, knowing that I was failing right then. Knowing that I might be blowing the chance to save this girl's life.
I worked on the book Bullyproof Your Child for Life with Dr. Joel Haber, and one of his key concepts is "good bystanders." Bullies thrive when bystanders stand around failing to act. It makes the victim think that everyone agrees with the bully's actions, and it gives the bully more power-- the bully now knows no one will intervene.
But, dammit, I'm not the type who stands around not intervening. Especially for a little girl, no older than my own, who just almost had the hair yanked off her head by the woman who's supposed to protect her in this world.
Yet I came up with no solution as I watched the mother carry her daughter out the door, crying all the way. That made two of us. The tears welled up in my eyes as I got up to the register and explained to the cashier what we had just seen, hugging my daughter tightly.
I don't know why I felt the need to reassure Sarina, but I did, over and over. "I would never do that to you," I told her.
"I know," she said. "I would never do that to you, either, because I love you."
We were supposed to go straight home from there, but I couldn't. We went to the grocery store next door instead, where I needed to decompress and talk things through with Sarina.
"I feel terrible for that little girl."
"Me too. She has a wicked mother, like Maleficent."
"You're right. What should we have done?" I asked her.
"That mother should be in time out forever."
More hugs. More talking about how I definitely should have done something. Something, but what? We talked about how important it is to stand up for people who need our help. She suggested that next time, we call on the Rescue Rangers, Chip and Dale, who will parachute in and carry the girl to safety. She said that she feels bad that she didn't catch the mother and put her in a big bag so the girl could get away.
I told her that I'm proud that she cares about other people, and that what happened to this girl should never happen to anyone.
"I'm lucky I have you for my mommy," she said. I wanted to soak in this compliment, but right then, I felt like I had let her down even if she didn't realize it. I want to deserve my daughter's pride in me.
We got blueberry pie and assorted comfort foods and headed to my parents' house, where I needed to check in to ask for... reassurance? I think I was looking to be let off the hook, for someone to tell me there's nothing I could have done, even though I knew that was a big cop-out. I thought about how the girl wasn't broken yet... she still laughs, she still smiles. There was hope. I thought about how sad she looked when we walked away. I held Sarina and retrieved our grocery bag... somehow I had forgotten that blueberry pie at the store.
"Don't forget to tell Grandma and Grandpa about that little girl," she told me. As if I could forget. We got inside and I explained.
"Did you get the woman's license plate number?" my mother asked.
I wanted to scream. The thought hadn't even occured to me. Of course that's what I should have done... followed her out to the parking lot and copied down the license plate number.
The main reason I'm sharing this story here is because I'm hoping you'll stop for a moment and think about how you would handle a similar situation. It does nobody any good if we all just freeze in horror. The more I look back now, the more I can see the steps I should have taken.
- I should not have left that little girl, and I should have asked her name.
- When I saw trouble, I should have taken a picture with my camera phone.
- I could have tried asking a manager to lock the door before the woman left so I could call police (that might or might not have worked).
- I should have asked the people around me to act with me.
- And I should have written down that license plate number.
I should have shown that little girl that she was not alone, and that the world isn't so cruel as to ignore the abuse of a child when it's right in our faces.
I have been in this situation once before, when I was just a young teen. I handled it the right way then. I was on a public bus when I saw a parent hit and scream at a child, and I got off at the next stop and called police, telling them the bus number and route. I called anonymously because the woman threatened me on the bus when I glared at her, so I never got to know if my tip actually "worked," but at least then I knew I had done what I could.
This time I don't get that reassurance. I am sorry I failed you, little girl. I hope someone else won't, and soon.
Photo shared on Flickr courtesy of Southworth Sailor.
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Jenna, as a parent, your first responsibility is to the safety of your child. Of course you could not leave Sarina to chase down that mother. How horrible. I grew up being hit by my parents. I know what that does to a child, so as a parent, I know that if someone steps in and tells that parent "what you did is wrong" then it makes a HUGE difference in that child's life and gives them hope the abuse will end. Please don't feel so bad about how it went for you. I am hoping beyond hope somebody else did something. Sometimes, seeing things like this is so shocking, it takes time to react and come to our senses. Please find the strength to move on and pray for that little girl. There are more children you can help. Be strong. **hugs**
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ReplyDeleteYou could still call the cops. Marshall's, presumably, has security cameras. They may well even have them in the parking lot.
ReplyDeleteWow, this is a powerful reminder that sometimes WE are the people who are supposed to make things right. I'll carry this with me.
ReplyDeleteOh Jenna, it just breaks a heart, doesn't it? I've seen this sort of thing, too, and it's so difficult to witness.
ReplyDeleteIt makes us hug our own kids that much closer, doesn't it?
I've not once thought I was in a position to do anything. The times I could have said something, realization that the child was going home with this parent--and they might be punished for my confrontation--has held me back.
Like that time at a high school graduation, the mom a row behind us openly insulted her son, calling him a loser and cussing. I wanted to call her out. Wow, did I. But what if she had gone home livid and writhing, because of me, and she beat him? That thought was hard to handle, too.
Now, though, especially have reading Dawn's comment, maybe that's me excusing myself. How do we know?
I will do better. We have to help. Don't we?
Thank you for sharing this story. It has been a while since I've seen anything like this but makes me realize that I need to be prepared if I were to see it again. Thank you, Jenna. This was powerful. I so feel for those little children. By sharing, you've done so much -- everyone reading it, and all of the suggestions, are now more equipt to know how to handle it.
ReplyDeleteAnd by the way, every now and then when I see a mommy like you in a store with their child - I smile and sometimes offer small words of praise.
That makes me so sad :( That poor little girl.
ReplyDeletePerhaps the store would have her credit card #? And you could track her that way?
Thanks for posting this. Makes us all very aware.
((((((((((HUGS))))))))))) Thank you all for responding and for your kind words. I did wind up following some of your suggestions. I'm about to write a follow-up post about it.
ReplyDeleteThank you for letting me know that it matters that I wrote this. I really hope it'll help someone else.
I think that, sometimes, as adults, we have to accept that there is nothing WE can do, for THAT person, at THIS time. None of us are superheroes. Sometimes our only option is to walk away, hating ourselves for not acting when, in truth, our options to act are pretty limited.
ReplyDeleteWhat had happenned before the Mom come into the store? What if she's usually a terrific parent, but... she's just lost her own Mom, and is preoccupied today, and is a world of her own and she has so much on her mind she forgets she has her daughter with her?
What if her husband beat her last night, or she's just lost her job and the family are almost homeless and she's at the end of her tether? What's going on in her life that's so desperate and fraught that she loses control like that? We don't know... And yes, I know it's no excuse, but sometimes even the best parents can snap and lash out. As long as it's not every day, and so long as the children feel loved most of the time, incidents like this, although traumatic for the observers, will not do the children much harm.
The mother did not repeatedly punch her daughter in the face, she did not throw her child to the floor and stomp on her with her shoe. She grabbed her, yanked her by her pigtails and slapped her. In some families, that's not such a big deal. There's a difference between occasionally slapping a naughty child because you, as a parent, lose it, and the systematic, willful, deliberate abuse of children. You don't know if this is a one-off incident, you don't know if, the odd slap aside, the child is loved, and cherished.
Yes, you can always phone the police, but... was the child covered in bruises, or bleeding? Was she filthy dirty and emaciated? You didn't mention it, and if she wasn't, then there's not much the police can do. All they'll do is put the family in contact with "child services". The "child services" worker will visit the house, check the cupboards for food, see if the child is attending school, and, unless the child is emaciated or covered in bruises they will do nothing- they have too much work as it is, and see children maltreated much worse than this child probably is being...
That the child was not listening to the cashiers' admonishments as she shook her fizzy pop and was happy to interact with you, an adult, suggests to me that the child might not be being treated as badly as you think; really miserable children usually become introverted,and they don't look to adults for fun.
But...
Say everything goes "to plan", and the child is removed from the parental home and placed in foster care. You'll feel good about yourself, for a while, but, most of the children placed in foster care become homeless, or they become drug users, or teen moms, or they develop mental health problems... Maybe nobody beats them in foster care, but nobody loves them either... would you be responsible for that, too? How far do we go in accepting responsibility for others?
By all means, look out for the weak, and the sick, and the vulnerable, and try to help when you can, but...
...sometimes it's really not your problem...