nineteen. Chasing the Sun.

I have been waking up in the dark of the morning for this whole week. 

My bike has been leaning on the pillars of my front porch waiting out the stormy weather of winter. 

I figured today was the day that it was time to take it out, and go find the sunrise. 

Since I now live near the middle of the trail, I had to decide which way to go, and I opted for the direction I usually don’t take, since that would lead me right to the morning rays. 

A similar blog has been written one hundred times I am sure, how taking a new way showed me many new things- things I pass everyday in the confines of my car, but never notice. This narrative is true for me too and it’s always a good reminder the importance of risk, change, new things, un-comfortability. 

However, my lesson today was different. I went on this ride to see the sunrise. I intended to find the perfect spot on one of those bridges and breathe, breathe , breathe deeply. At that perfect spot I had big plans to let some thoughts drift away with the currents below in that big river I never spend enough time around. I just wanted to be lost for a minute and make my mind quiet down. 

I have no where to be this morning. I don’t have the opportunity to punch a clock or meet for coffee, yet I was racing to get somewhere. 

I realized I was afraid that if I didn’t get to that “perfect spot” soon enough, I may miss the sky begin to light up with pinks and oranges, but it was still dark. Of course I wouldn’t miss it, and when I did get there and watch this whole magnificent setting, soon the sun would rise and leave again till the next day. 

It’s the simplest noticing of this fear that I won’t make it in time, this fear that if I don’t get there- I will miss it, it will leave. 

Life passing by. 

Today, I was chasing the sunrise. 

Everyday, I chase many things. 

Especially these days. I am chasing a degree, I am chasing a certain date where I can jump on a plane to return to Thailand, I am chasing happiness, I am chasing sleep, I am chasing time to hoping that if I catch it it may slow down, or speed up. I am chasing love. Chasing…..

At that moment, I stopped my bike. I climbed off and I sat down. The sun came up and today the colors were breath taking. I wondered if the cars on all these bridges noticed it. I wondered what they were chasing and if they were chasing life too.

I sat for as long as my mind would allow me, and than got up to finish the 12 miles I had left. The mindset of “knock this out, shower, get to work- kick this days ass" set in. More chasing. But, as I find in so many moments in my life, the universe gently and lovingly pushed me to remain still for a little while longer. 

The trail was closed the long way, so I had to go back- and take the farthest bridge I never go to. This bridge is new to the city, and goes by my school and over the part of the river that is quiet and calm and this particular morning was full of layers of drifting fog. I slowed down the pace of my ride, recognizing (again, didn’t I just learn this lesson) my constant need to be moving fast enough, or in the right direction. I tried again and from a deep place I heard echoed, "take your time." 

This detour took me over by my school, and through Little Rock’s downtown that I spend so much time in, but yet somehow it feels foreign to me. 

More reminders of just how fast I move.

This whole time the sun was still rising. It really took it’s time today..or maybe I took mine. 

I am grateful beyond words for these gentle pushes from the world. I would much rather be pushed than continue to chase all these things that will come in their own time, at the perfect time.  

I read a blog recently called F*** Happiness, I want Freedom. It was about the ebs and flows that come with life. The ups and downs of this whole complicated journey. The author wanted sadness sometimes, and chaos once in awhile. She wanted madness, and extremely happy, and deep pain that we find in our hearts from love, and she was tired of always thinking about how she could be MORE happy. 

Maybe the trick is to stop thinking about it so much -which is hard for me since I often put "constantly happy" as the indicator of lots of personal growth and healthy relationships. 

But, I am wrong and I know it. 

Happiness comes and goes like all things, the beautiful sunrise I was able to be apart of today, included. Deep happiness comes from a place no can seem to find, but we all have.

I think we all have happiness and it’s not about running after it fast enough in efforts to catch it and make it your own. It’s about accepting and allowing. Don’t get me wrong folks this so hard to do. It requires massive amounts of self-love and authentic rebellion against the way the world teaches us to be. I am failing at it.

I want freedom too. 

I have a hunch that more bike rides for no good reason with no good goal will help me practice all of these things more. 

eighteen. Poor Schools, Poor Kids, Poor Health, Short lives.

It has become undeniably clear that business has intersected with almost every other social cause in the United States today. From politics, to education, to the organic food industry, the big business agenda is one that shoves its personal interests through the agendas (and betterment) of the masses. I am writing today about this collision, and more importantly the grave consequences for youth culture if our society continues to use money and selfishly motivated funders/donors as the compass for forward motion in these places (particularly in education) who support the unreachable and hollow and factory like procedures of No Child Left Behind and Race to The Top. In America, this compass to move forward should by guided by those who have spent their lives learning along students in the classrooms of this country; the teachers and youth workers who dedicate their lives to deeply understanding how to empower the new generation of thinkers for this democratic society. 

I will begin with a learning moment from last week. On Thursday, I sat crying for an hour after softly closing my laptop in surrender. My thoughts were fixed on a new research study (one that took all of my courage to finish) dissecting effects of the “privatization” (or big business) of foster homes in America. As an adult who lived a childhood with this fate, and one who finds herself constantly enveloped in the struggle for new laws, standards, and actions on a policy level to improve the current pathetic conditions for foster youth, the only option was to cry.  I think the world would be a better place if we all spent more time crying or at least noticing all of these blatant and obvious injustices we put on our children, especially poor children.  Even I, someone deeply committed to the cause, was unaware and uneducated about the mass scale of this privatization. This was some of the reason for my sadness, but most of it fell on the words in that study that repeatedly pointed to pain, the neglect, and the BIG money that became the impetus for “taking care of”  these children.  In the daily national news, headline after headline scripts stories of death, and abuse proving that we in fact are failing these children of any "care" at all. I would argue what’s worse is suffering through a childhood that is seemingly giving them no options, no hope, no love needed to develop a whole -hearted person leading to an incomplete life laden with continued suffering. If you feel as if my words are dramatic, research will lead you to the reality that there are many around you who are experiencing this right now- we simply do not ask or look do we? Myself included. Or, maybe it is that we intentionally look away because of the complexity behind all of this with the weak hopeful hearts that maybe they will pull themselves up by their bootstraps. I would ask you and I to think about why there are 72,000 invisible children in these privatized foster homes and in the USA (this is only a guess count for 8 states since still no one knows). These are the homes of children we are talking about where they learn and discover in every moment who they are. This space is sacred, yet we treat these foster homes as a fast food business on a shorten lunch break, and treat children as products sold to the lowest bidder.

The night before I had finished Why School? by the ever beautiful Mike Rose.  His words echoed the tone of the foster care article in describing the business we have also built behind children in this country surrounding the spaces where we educate them; our schools and in our classrooms. I say this so loudly, and with so much regret I beg you to listen one more time. We have used CHILDREN to BUILD BUSINESS IN THIS COUNTRY.  These are the learning spaces of our children, where they go to discover who they are in this ever- changing world around them in efforts to participate fully in it. This space is sacred, yet we treat it as a fast food business focusing on how efficiently to get them in and out and how much it will cost the people who are not even involved in the journey.

I realized quickly Why School and the article are connected in so many ways. The double bottom line is simply that this country is failing the majority of youth in the spaces they exist in. It became clear that in the past, part of my subconscious found some comfort in the fact that foster youth may at least have an opportunity to find love and the tools they need to grow whole at their schools and through incredible teachers that never get enough credit for their hard work.  Rose made this point over and over in his pages. The USA is failing teachers too by asking them to take relationships and experiential learning out of the classroom. After all, it only takes one positive adult or one teacher to change your life… I am a testament to that.  But, it is clear to me now that unfortunately these two arenas (home care for poor youth, and schooling) are in the same grim place. Both are falling short of  cultivating spaces where “we hear about intellect, aesthetics, joy, courage creativity, civility and understanding (Rose, Pg.29).”  It is exactly these components that are necessary to create a whole child, which is absolutely and directly tied to developing a better world for all of us. Instead, it is money and business (and tests, tests, tests) that run our schools like factories stripping the classrooms of these very important pieces.

Furthermore, these injustices are happening to a certain kind of student over and over. The ones who the elite suggest offer least to our society partially blamed on their lack of “education”: the poor. Poverty matters a whole lot. Rose talks about the increased pressures specifically for kids from poor neighborhoods down to the “tense navigation of walking from home to school.”  Now we can add the pressures at home. If you do the math-school kids, let’s say one who grows up in a foster home, a normal day  adds up to the following.

Tense navigation when you wake up.

Tense navigation through breakfast.

Tense navigation to school.

Tense navigation for the entire school day.

Tense navigation walking home from school.

Tense navigation for an entire night at home.

Tense navigation to fall asleep, stay asleep, and find rest.

What chance are we giving kids if every space where they are supposed to learn is now inhibiting them from doing just that?  What are chances for happiness or healthiness are we giving them if we do not find (or allow) joy here?  To bring this discourse one step further into a dark closet that would be easier to just shut, the ACE studies that came out in the 90’s proved a strong correlation between these “tense navigations” that they call ACE factors (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and life span. Not to anyone’s surprise, this research has been largely ignored. The ACE studies state that when we put kids in positions of increased high stress for sustained periods of time they are 4 times as likely to develop heart disease and cancer as adults=shorter life spans. 

Just to recap: We are not allowing children to live full childhoods while simultaneously decreasing the time they have to figure it out for themselves in their adulthood.

It is unexplainable, as well as unforgivable how purposely the world inhibits the youth culture. We allow minimal support and agency in these schools and home where youth are developing, once again because it is driven by matters of the pocket book rather then tackling the complexity of building inclusive, loving, and whole classrooms where kids come to learn and create themselves in the relevant context of  the world around them.

Is it at school that we hope to catch some of the gaps kids in more impoverished homes may be experiencing, but instead we are again shoving their pencils, their minds, and their chance for creating self esteem through discovery into tiny shallow boxes.  If you don’t fit or pass the test, you are not valued. You are NOT VALUED.

My hopeful end to this lies in the children. In ten years of my work I have discovered how little I know about youth. However, what is very clear is how resilient, smart,  and innovative every one of them are by nature. Especially kids who come from harder times. I know our youth can make it with very little and navigate their way through all of these challenges that we throw at them. I just wish we didn't make them. 

seventeen. Only Four Minutes

If you had to tell your life in four minutes what stories would you tell...why are those ones the important pieces?

Here I go, start the clock.

I was born to a middle class family and lived in that way till I was 10 or maybe it was 11. France was my last name back then and my brother and I earned every bruise we gave each other. My baby sister was born when I was in Kindergarden. I remember that day at school and I was so excited to meet her.

6 years later I was pushed into the foster care system in America, a place not so kind to many of the children that quite suddenly find themselves there. This is where my adventures begin. Moving from shacks to mansions, dark- skinned families to light skinned ones; at every turn I seemed to be hurled into dealing with conflict, anger, violence, sadness, change, beauty, connection, and a heightened awareness of others and systems moving all around me. I tried new things learning that you can only understand different cultures by doing what they do. By eating their foods, attending their churches, communicating in new ways, not being allowed to communicate at all sometimes. In my heart, I felt I failed to fit in so like a chameleon I became a master of disguise, and even through all the painful feelings that come with daily conflict- I pushed to continue to find MY path. Basketball player one day, class clown the next, I soon found myself on the other side of system- working with youth in a crisis shelters, attending college in efforts to become a better social worker then the 16 allotted to me. Ironically enough, college was the hardest time so far. Freedom brought reality. No one was around to tell me what “perfect” was anymore so every morning became a brutal  stand off between the mirror and myself. No expectations, no pretending, no subscribed family to ask when I needed some advice about a boy, or a career, or what to do about the overflowing dishwasher.

I still kept pushing, but I was no longer pushing to find my path anymore- it became clear I needed to find myself first.

I made it you know? I graduated. Oh, and I started to find myself, but only through others. I found myself while serving others and committing my life to youth work. I found myself in the conversations about holistically changing systems that always seemed to disregard the youth they were working for. I found myself looking at the world from a tall mountain of ignorance and listening to stories far different from mine, even if the cover of the book seemed the same. It became a game for me to push the statistics about kids like me so I traveled the world. I dove into the struggle of deep inner healing so I could be a healthy role model. I said yes especially when things made me scared. The fire in my belly keeps growing for travel, for love, for struggle. 

I moved to Denver and checked a dream off my list. I volunteered for my country and learned to trust woman again in AmeriCorps NCCC. I moved with this great guy to Arkansas where I worked to build new programs for homeless youth. There I learned about leadership and the power of voices from even the littlest people in our society. I had a dog, I left the boy, I drank too much sometimes. I found God again still there standing right beside me as she always had been. All those places I had traveled, all those years of looking and I finally had a sense of what a home felt like in Arkansas- especially since my sister and loving friend made the journey with me to the south.

I realized how instrumental my grandmothers deep love gave me courage when I was young.

I lost an Aunt. The one that made me feel apart of a family I never was apart of. I think about her all the time. Her laugh, the sound of a can opening,  and pink tubes of mascara remind me of her beautiful soul. I wish she hadn’t decided to leave so soon. 

My grandpa made me promise him I would go on with school after arguing with him for years that I wasn’t smart enough. His long battle with cancer finally was over and at the end of his life was a new beginning for me at the Clinton School. 

From there it’s just a whole lot of giant waves crashing through me with opportunity. I traveled to as many countries as I could exploring and spending 8 months in amazement. In awe really. It’s hard to put here what that time did for me. I still only am aware of a sliver of the lessons for my life. Gratitude.

What I learned most is that I am a amateur in most things. That we can always be doing more listening. That I am loved even as a flawed chick and that there is no need to try so hard to hide that. Humaneness. 

South East Asia became a warm place for me not only because of the foods, the traditions, the deep respect for others process- but also because it is there that I found my tribe. Design work and a team who pushes itself to be the best it can be personally and professionally is a gift and I try to treat it as such. I returned home and everything felt different. I felt different, and what I wanted before no longer made sense for me. I am still sorting through all of that. 

 Last semester at the Clinton School and back to Thailand. I have no idea how the rest of my life will go, but surrendering to that brings a strong calm.  

sixteen. David and Patrick.

Unapologetic David

Fearless Patrick.

Their big smiles entered my life a few years back when we collided on a mission to empower homeless youth to create a community of safety and meaning in an after -school program. Current high school students themselves, they brought their passion and knowledge of technology to the kids and pushed them to experiment with the power of expression not only for the little 5 year olds, but for the sassy 16 year olds alike. I think we all discovered through discussion today around our slices of pizza in a rusty old restaurant that this power only grows as we do.

It never fails that when I get the chance to spend time with these young men…I am slapped across the face with how much I have to learn from everyone around me. At times I can tell that they think I am “teaching” them, but I know they are always teaching me. I feel so lucky to learn from these two teachers.

Excited about the logistics of the new youth cooperative idea, Urban Sanctuary, David and Patrick spent time today asking some brilliant questions that pushed me to think deeper about what that place will become, why it will, how it will, and ultimately who it will impact.

Their reactional creativity sparked a fire in all of us that seems to be rising in our bellies in efforts to live our life’s in a constant ever- flowing space where we can create, dream, explore and work alongside people who allow us to be who we are: flawed and brave. This path seems to be lined with struggles. It's not easy or simple. It is the most important thing we may ever do.

As we were explaining these struggles that all of are finding in life right now, Patrick told us this story:

“Fleas can jump 150x their height. Which is really amazing in itself if you think about the biology behind it. They are born with this skill that not many other species have. They know they have it, and they just do it without thinking. However, if you put a flee in a mason jar….it will not stop jumping. It will keep trying for days and days. After two days though, even if you take the lid off, the flea will no longer jump 150x it’s height any longer. It can now only jump as high as the lid. I loved this story cause it so brilliantly explained to me the commonalties between the flee, and the human condition in all us.”

As I watched my young teacher share this lesson with us, I realized a few mason jars I have climbed into myself.  They come in the form of these thoughts that seem to creep in from time to time (sometimes screaming thoughts) that I cannot do something, or that I am not good enough for that….yet. Both David and Patrick shared similar ideas that they needed more time to be great at this or great at that.

I can’t help but think, “Aren’t we born, much like the flees, to jump as high as we would like just because we are innately pretty magnificent?” If you look at the biology alone! 

Maybe it is the cliché to say , you will do exactly what you say you will do. But, it is more then what we say, and even more then what we do. It comes down to what we think. All saying and doing follows.

I can’t help but write this blog with a sense of profound sadness. I think our society in America is one that is constantly forcing lids upon its youth, upon it’s woman, upon minorities, upon white men, upon everyone. These lids start with our education system as a whole, and seems to follow a long line of lids all the way to parenting, mentors who are too busy to build relationships, and leaves us in a unconnected sea of others scattering all around us: searching for their own self worth in never ending circles that somehow quickly become our everyday routines.

I feel like I have to rip lids off my thoughts everyday. Lids about my body, lids about my job, lids about my roles, lids about my feelings, lids about my past, lids about who I am “suppose” to be and who I am constantly becoming. I get exhausted from ripping all these lids off so often, and Patrick so perfectly explained to me why I have been a little worn out recently. In my life right now, there seems to be lots of constant ripping going on coupled with frustrations since I know I put some lids on myself . One could argue that I choose to leave some on from long ago too. One could argue I have created some lids just for me in efforts to not be as happy as I know I can be. Just as I put them on, one could argue I am the only one who can rip them off. 

I look forward to the time when I have less lids.

I have less now then ever so 'progress not perfection' is a good thing to strive for. I think fully understand 'progress not perfection' is healing in itself. Who invented that word "perfect" anyway. That's the world's most awful word.

I am getting exhausted from hitting the lids too, so I would assume that this exhaustion is a good sign- a push for change.

I want Urban Sanctuary to be an open mason jar with no lid. I want it to be, well I NEED it to be ,a place that provides warmth, family, community, love, struggle and discovery through endless searching- even if it means exhaustion sometimes.

Transformation runs deep and begins with our thoughts.

fifteen. For the Youth.

I became overwhelmed a few Wednesdays ago at the Bangkok BTS waiting for the next train into the city. This feeling started rising in my belly when I noticed a young mother dragging her little boy by the hand across the platform. She was yelling at him to hurry up! I thought…how unfair of a request that was for him since his legs were so little and he was already running behind the hand of his mother as fast as he could. He was trying his best. When he couldn’t keep up- she stopped, knelt down and yelled at him once again explaining in a condescending tone that her life was too busy for this, to busy to be waiting for him.

Soon we were standing next to each other in line. He caught my eyes looking at him and I knelt down and smiled. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and somehow silently explain to him that seem adults take out their feelings on kids often, and if he could remember that his mom’s annoyance probably and most often will have nothing to do with him- his life will be easier. He gave into the suggestion of a high five, but his blushed cheeks and small little ears never gave into a smile- presumably from the fact that he was still recovering from the unfair reprimand.

I found myself in that train a few minutes later entranced in this idea of society/adults dragging and pulling our youth of all ages through life at unfair pace and for unfair reasons. We are pulling them in so many directions that think their minds must be spinning. When do they find time to think, to reflect, to push-back, to cry, to create. All the “yelling” adults are doing must drown out their own voices- the ones that come from within that are especially quite in our early stages.

If you would allow me to suggest it, I think we are dragging youht through these cold cement classrooms with dull, un-engaging and often untruthful curriculum with over-worked teachers who could care less about the holistic internal development of their students. Instead, test scores matter more from information that will be forgotten as soon as the red pen marks scribble judgment on their paper. Some of these children will go home to parents who are dragging them to this soccer practice and that recital so that they can full fill the unlived dreams of their own child hoods or create an image for themselves in superficial communities of “perfect families”.  Many youth are dragged to go to the colleges that have been decided for them with outdated careers that refuse to move with the new millennium.  During college these youth will ultimately be pulled into debt that now accounts to over 1 trillion dollars (exceeding credit card debt in the USA by millions).

Furthermore, the adults/society of this world are dragging youth through the false ideas of happiness. We convince youth that real happiness only comes in the shape of hard work, which requires great sacrifice, instead of accepting the new reality that taking risks and finding work  you love work that requires you to show up everyday with your whole heart- is how you reach it.

And we continue to drag youth through a series of NO’s that become the standard answers to their suggestions and requests if it does not fit our own. We make excuses for this behavior and say we want them to be more ______________________________ (fill in the blank here). It is for their own good we say.

I see it everywhere.

Part of what I do in this life is offer up the idea that young people are inherently problem solvers who have this beautiful gift to develop who they are by engaging with us and teaching us too in the institutions we have made for them. It seems that on a large scale, I am failing.

I got off the train and was standing in a new line for the next one. Around me were huge TV screens hanging from the glass buildings with constant flashing ads of ways to improve this outer shell we live in for now.

I became very aware of the messages that never stopped (these TV’s are on 24/7) and every ad for the next three minutes of my existence sent the messages to follow: If you wear this, you will be happier.

If you get rid of those stretch marks you will be more beautiful, then more happy.

If you can add chemicals to your skin to make it more white (a core advertisement in South East Asia that makes me really hurt for that culture, and not so proud od my own) you will be happy.

If you get rid of wrinkles around your eyes, you will be loved, and happy. (Aren’t wrinkles from laughing anyway?)

I feel like we are dooming youth for unhappiness. We are insisting upon it aren’t we?

We are dragging youth through all of these requirements they never agreed to and doing an arguably poor job at making those learning institutions a place of self-discovery and empowerment. Almost every environment that our youth travel to seems to be telling them another contradictory message- asking them to be different then what they are.

We are saying they are not good enough aren’t we?

That is quite simply what it boils down too.

The worst part: we are doing this to kids who are developing!!!! We are allowing it. We contribute every time we turn on the TV for them, instead of asking them how their day was, including them in cooking dinner or providing blank sheets of paper for them to illustrate their own TV shows!

 We do this every time we exclude them from conversations assuming they couldn’t possibly understand. We do this when we exclude them from decisions that affect them. We do this every time we argue and use our unearned power as a tool to make us right about everything instead of guiding them to see that the idea of being “right” is something that will always be a grey area. It’s important instead to find what is right for you as a unique individual- a being that matters in this world because of that inherent uniqueness.

Overwhelmed I feel again.

Let me say it again. Take a deep breath and listen to me….. please.

May I suggest that we are setting youth up for failure much more often then we are setting them for success.

How do we stop this you ask? It’s deeper then you think, I think. Adults need to start becoming more actualized in their own beings. With that comes grace and tolerance for others and their paths. I think it comes down to building inclusive communities that are focused of course on the important diversities that come with skin color, language and culture, but also age.

We are teachers.

All of us.

What we are teaching youth in implicit messages every second is to change who they are, and not bother us with the stories and dreams of their mind and hearts. This makes them feel like they are not valuable and then after that- what have we done? What foundation have we laid for them to create a better world? I can’t help but to think we must feel this way as an entire race and this cycle is long standing.

Drop-out rates, drug-use statistics, prescription medications to solve deep rooted pain, eating disorders, domestic violence and the rate of girls who enter into them, pregnancy because of lack of love, STD’s because we weren’t worth wearing a condom, and most overwhelming for me, people all around us who feel like suicide is a better option, every message we send is manifesting in a clear way all around us. We aren’t listening.

Every choice we make will have an effect. I am strong believer that there is not such thing as “cause no harm.” We are connected simply because we are.  Consequently, we are organically always causing, creating, and affecting something. It’s the beauty of life, the uncertainty of it all. It seems that the easiest thing to cause is harm since it requires no attention to others and far less effort.

Maybe the problem is that we have given up on a world we dream of. My dream is that next time I walk into that subway, I will see a young mother enjoying the walk with her son as he explores the wonder of the elevator. In my dream subway that mother will be un-rushed and valuing the time they have together before he soon reaches the age where he will not want her help any longer. Maybe instead, she picks him up and hugs him extra hard on the way to the train instead of reminding him that he is a burden to her at times.

The billboards in my dream subway will be full of stories of people (young and old) accomplishing uniqueness unapologetically. It will be colorful celebrations of what life actually is. It will celebrate our bodies. It will celebrate our successes, and if you will allow me to push a little farther: It will boldly celebrate the successes of collaboration and the people who have demonstrated the great courage it takes to fail early, often, and sometimes fail again until we get it right to create sustainable change.

I think we can get there tomorrow if we all tried. I am still working on how to make something this important for everyone all at once! Maybe saying everything takes lots of time is a cop-out. Maybe 

it's not.

For today, I am asking you to at least stop dragging our youth, and start standing beside them in all of our un-aged humanness. Maybe we will like what they have to say, and maybe the pace they are walking at is a better one for our world.

fourteen. Courageous Classmate.

I had a classmate come up to me this year and tell me that the pieces of my foster care story that she has heard didn’t always seem truthful.

My first thought after she said it was, “Wow, that took tons of courage to say.” My second, “Yes, I suppose you would think that since you are not from where I am from you couldn’t possibly understand.” My third thought, “I am going to stop telling any of my story to people all together. It’s too much work and I can never tell all of it.” Being misunderstood can be hurtful to the ego, I suppose.

I started in a really healthy place on this thought process, but then I dove right in to the deep dark black canyon of judgment, embarrassment and anger. How could someone who grew up with parents ever understand the journey of the American foster care system? How can anyone who didn’t grow up as a foster kid understand a foster kid’s story? I resolved that they simply cannot.

From the perspective in that canyon, girls like her were the problem to why little about the system is improving. People don’t want to hear hard stories of kids being passed around from foster home to foster home, especially not if abuse is involved. I get it, world; believe me when I say I think often about putting all the stories in a box, burning them, and letting that part of a long time ago disappear with the rising smoke.

People don’t want to hear that a transient lifestyle is a habit of the system, because foster parents most often have little training on how to deal with kids who are working through trauma. Instead of sticking with kids while they hurt and heal, they give up on them time and time again and pass the “problem” to the next home. These kids are now even more hurt and are expected to start the hurt and healing process over again with the population who has continually hurt them the most: adults. It’s no surprise what happens next. 86% of all foster kids that age out are either pregnant, imprisoned, or homeless by the time they are 19. That is a consequence of our actions as a system.

Like many issues our society is dealing with today, it’s complex. Instead of taking the much-needed time required to work through it and create new solutions, we ignore it, shove it down and say to ourselves, “ There is nothing I can do!” Once again we point the finger at someone else. The easiest scapegoat being the intangible: government who always seems to be looking out for big money instead of invisible kids.

Anger comes rushing in writing this, and there I go again collapsing into the black canyon one more time. Only now I find blame down there too. I am blaming the government for their lack of perspective, kindness, and action. The government is blaming the Department of Child Services. DCS is blaming “lack of funding.” Foster parents are blaming the kids who are hurting in their homes for not acting more like adults. The kids are blaming God, the world, their foster parents, and their real parents who were suppose to love them no matter what but didn’t. Biological parents are blaming their own parents for addiction or abuse never talked about.

 I am sick of being in this canyon. But here I was now, blaming a girl who simply hasn’t taken the time to look into an issue, because she assuredly has her own life and her own issues.

It’s often a surprise to people when they hear what foster care is like for many children in the United States. There always seems to be this Christian, uncondionally loving and kind stereotype of what a foster parent looks like. This is not the reality. Homes are hard; parents get in it for the wrong reason and stay in it long after they have started grouping all foster kids as problems and tapped out. The system does not always investigate the intention or safety of the homes they place kids in. I already mentioned how complicated this all is, right?

People ask me, “Where are these kids now?” Well, I am right here writing this frustrated blog with reluctance and worry of sounding unresolved, unhealed and angry. I am loudly articulating what it was like for me, because the only way I know to change something is to talk about it, gain understanding, and transform things from there.

Talking about it, even for me, is a new thing, though. When I was in foster care, I straight-up lied about it for years. No one knew. (Yes, it was as exhausting as it sounds). Not even my closest friends knew and I moved around 15 times- I lost count now. My story was always that I was moving in with my mom’s sister, because she was traveling, or my parents flipped houses, so that is why the bus always picked me up from new neighborhoods. I would spend all of my time convincing the world of these stories; sometimes I even believed them myself.

In theory, it would be easy to age-out and never talk about it again. I could make up a new romanticized story of my past, stick to it, and move on; I flirt with this idea a lot. I have even tried it a few times with strangers. This is what many of us foster kids want: to choose to leave the past in the canyon where it belongs and move on with our lives since we finally have a say in what happens in it.

Telling our stories means we would have to be vulnerable again, and the world taught us that is a big risk. It means a classmate someday in graduate school would tell you that your story is hard to believe, to hear, to process. It means we would have to think about it again.

In theory, it would be easy to move on and never talk about it again. In practice, there is something constantly yanking at my soul, refusing to let myself sit in silence. I feel responsible for making things better.

I am responsible for making things better.

We will not unless we can form a community of “invisibles” and help the world to see what solutions exist and create a new path in life for those who come after us.

I know that deep change comes from truth, empathy, time, collaboration, and determined action. I am going to have to ask a large group of kids who have been hurt over and over by the world to trust in it again and share. I need to encourage these kids, myself included, to be seen and to know their importance without anyone telling them of it. I am asking them to jump out of the canyon, but to remember it and use it as a tool for a better future. Am I asking the impossible? Is it fair? If we don’t change the system, who will? How can they know our urgency in fixing it if they simply know with their minds and do not authentically feel with their hearts the need for a drastic change?

It won’t change.

That change has to come from us in a solution prescribed by us, not one, not taking one given to us, but made for us.  

Shortly after my classmate had the courage to tell me how she felt, I knew that her statement might be the most important thing I have been told in a few years. I am so grateful to her for it; I wish the world could take on her willingness to be transparent.

Her statement makes me think clearly about what pieces I tell and in what settings.

It’s pushing me to see that this foster care “issue” is one that I deeply understand, which is only giving me more ownership of it.  

It reminds me of why it’s hard for other foster kids. Feelings of embarrassment, worry, the need for love, and the will to not ruffle feathers, just in case someone may leave you yet again is still strong, even for a girl almost fully healed 10 years after her journey through the foster care system has come to an end.

My first reaction was to stop sharing. My response after some deep thought and continued discovery of who I am is to tell it more fully, more often, and more openly when people ask.

I’ve rewritten this blog 5 times already.

I am publishing now, and it’s hard to do that still.

There still seems much more to say.