With a friendly, "Hello" and polite smile, I made contact with a woman in her late twenties accompanied by an adorable young chile. She smiled and rushed her walk, her child smiled also dragged by her hand grip and faced paced walk. She began to glance the wall of shoes and the large selection, taking her attention and had off of the boy. She walked over to the woman's specified selection of shoes and smiled and talked to herself in amazement at the matallic shoes. She paused, looked up and shouted, "GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" She made eye contact with me and the other girl behind the counter, and walked over to her son and grabbed the material on his shit off of his shoulder, and pulled him beside her and the woman's selection of shoes. He had been amused and mesmerized by the wall of skateboards, and the oak racks that were filled with long-boards bright in color and graphics. He made contact with us as well, but just a quick glance, and then back down to the floor he stared as his mom, picked up a few more Nike, "high-tops." He waited for her to select a pair that kept her attention for more than a few seconds, at which he inched closer and closer to the oak long-board rack just five feet away from his mother. She walked around the clearance rack, looked up and saw where her son was standing and continued to walk around the rack. When she saw nothing that caught her eye, her head magnetically locked on to the location where he son was standing. He had already made eye contact with her, he had been glancing up every few seconds, as if he was waiting for this moment when she would finally realized he was no longer at her side. In three fast long strides, she grabbed the boys ear, twisted it, and slapped his face, "You didn't think I was gonna do it, Huh!? Touch something else again, don't listen to me again! See what happens!" He held back his tears as long as possible, and a few streamed down his face, but not sound, just a read glow overcame his tan skin tone, and the streams from the tears he began to cry. She looked directly at me, and my mouth that was wide open on the counter, and my watering eyes, and at my frozen stance and only my eyes followed them both as she gripped his elbow and quickly walked out of the store.
I covered my mouth, and fashed back to my abuse childhood. I recalled a time when my mother was helping my sister make a pinata for her twelth birthday party. It was in the shape of a football, and had colors and decor to support the Dallas Cowboys. I was on the couch watching along, because my assistance was denied. My sister was warapping the letter, "A" with alluminum foil, she blurtted, "Stupid A," in frustration, because the foil would grip onto the other side and grab ahold of the letter. My mother looked at my sister, with big wide eyes, I rememberd her pupil and iris deseptring compeletly and only revealing the white of her eyes. Her face turned red in anger, she lifter her hand and slapped my sister. My sister Jessica, dropped whatever was in her hands, and backed up to the wall behind her and looked up at my mother. I sat and stared at my mother and my crying sister, I didn't say a word, I was frozen and mute. My sister in quiet words asked why she had been slapped. My mother thought that she had said, "stupid ass" instead of "stupid A." When Jessica spoke up and told my mother what she originally had said, my mother shrugged her shoulders and said, "well good, becasuse you dont swear." She caressed my sisters cheek and noticed that even her nails had scratched her, and sent her to the bathroom to clean up and put something on it. I sat on the couch, and looked away, when eithe of them looked at me. I knew it was either a look and plea for help, or a stern glare, and warning squint, because I knew I could "get it" just as bad.
It was as if my body locked and returned into the mode of when I was a child, helpless to the strength and knowledge my mother once had used against me. My heart sank, and felt the pain of the child that was hurting. I could see his eyes were screaming for help. Yet my mouth stayed open and body motionless. I had let this woman leave my sight without a word, or at least a simple defense for an innocent child. The fear, that he too would, "get it" worse later, if someone interjected on her discipline held onto my tonge. I was speechless, frustrated, and raging with anger. After years of abuse, how could I let this situation occur in front of me, without a word or moment to process what I had just witnessed. Fear set over my mind and body, about the children that were under that same circumstances. The abuse, physical, mental, sexual or neglect. Whatever abuse, the thought of someone having to endure such a thing, slowley ate my thoughts and the rest of my shift minute by minute.
Violence has become a vicious cycle in and outside of the home. Constantly escalating and reaching to heights and rates of destruction. This has become a pattern that is repeated into the lives of victims and their families. We as humans of the same race, must intervene when situations like this occur to break the cycle and abusive behavior.
One is at risk to commit abuse of a child if they, themselves have experienced some form of abuse, mental illness, drug and alcohol abuse, low socioeconomic and education status. An unwanted pregnancy can lead to the abuse of a child. Poor impulse control, inability to manage anger, low self-esteem, lack of social support, isolation, unemployment, and single or adolescents are more likely to abuse their children. Premature or colicky infants and children with physical or mental disabilities and chronic medical conditions are at higher risks for physical abuse. Children are also very likely to become the victims of abuse during partner violence.
