Category

Disposable Kids

Category

Kicking Walls Down

She stands quietly watching from the centre of the library, desks are set in rows facing the overhead projector.  The children jostle and push their way into the room, loudly they search for their places.  Complaining to each other that there are no chairs.  Just desks.  She smiles.  Grounded feet, planted firmly on the floor is required, impossible to connect them fully without this.  She silently reads each of them, counting…  Three today.  As the last child wanders in, she inhales deeply, flicks on her  iTunes and Imagine Dragons blasts the cobwebs from the room. ‘Who wants to paint music? Who wants to draw what you hear?  Put a colour to a sound?  To an emotion?’ Blank, uncomprehending stares.  So the class begins.  Of the sixty-two children in the room she knows that three will break today.  That this will open locked cupboards in their brains, she is ready and…

Fire Renews

How many times must I watch adults who should know better, fuss and flounder when the winds of change break the barriers of their damaged brains?  I teach art not to create pretty replicas of the world around us or to mimic others, or indeed me and my art (shudder) – I teach to draw out the pain, to cauterize and renew. Only through the storm can we find peace.  Only by accepting that mess is inevitable, that it will not be pretty, that it will be dangerous and exhausting can we get to that place of peace.  Why fear it so much?  Why turn your face from the fire and ask the traumatized child to behave as society expects? It’s beyond ridiculous! That child has been abused.  That child has been tortured.  Where was society when their mother burned their skin with her cigarettes?  I was that child and…

Disposable Kids

“Why do you always hurt me?  Why always me?  Why?” I sat on the cold cement step, controlling the urge to gently rub my throbbing arm.  She had dug her nails into me and dislocated my shoulder again.  My mother stared down at me, and sighed. “Because you take it.  Because you… because it doesn’t affect you.  Because you can handle it.  You never react.” It finally dawned on me in that moment.  This woman is truly evil; she may have given birth to me but in those few seconds I realized that giving birth to a human does not give another ownership of that human.  I stood up and I walked away.  To this day I remember the second I stopped loving her, or caring if she lives or dies. I was finally free. Fifteen years of constant abuse had brought me to this place.  Fifteen years of trying…