San Francisco.--Young writers offer their reflections on proposals to deny welfare benefits to single teen mothers and provide state-run orphanages for children who fall through the cracks. These stories appeared in YO! (Youth Outlook), a bi-monthly newspaper by and about teen-agers published by Pacific News Service.
Time for Us to Grow Up
How do I feel about the Republican proposals for ending welfare? I thank them for making a wonderful choice. It's time for my generation of young and poor black women to grow up and be independent. After all, we have been stripped, beaten, raped and killed, so explain to me why we can't survive this little battle!
On another level I think about how the system has always loved taking our children away from us. (Remember slavery days when our great-, great-, great-grandmothers experienced the pain of watching their babies being taken away, sold to another plantation?)
Today, the system sees our children not as people but as dollar signs. They say they'd rather give their money to orphanage homes or adoption agencies. Then they'll wonder why our children will grow up with hate, not love, in their hearts, never knowing the love of a real mother.
The only way to end this craziness is for us to stop having babies we can't handle. We need to stop being breeders to men who don't want to take on the responsibilities of being real fathers.
We are strong people. Once we took care of land and the village, of crops and animals, even of white people's children. So why is it so hard for us to be independent now?
Poor women like myself take pride in thinking, "I don't need a man to take care of my children." But that's because the system has been our man -- the system took care of our kids for us.
It's time to put positive pressure on our men and force them to get the job that God intended for them to do. It's supposed to be man and woman helping each other out, not the government acting as the man's substitute.
Ladie Terry, 21, has lived in group homes or on her own since the age of 14.
When you live in an institution it's the loneliness that gets you. Institutions (group homes, hospitals, I've been in both) approach young people as if they're the problem. A friend of mine remembers getting a welcome packet from a group home that said, "Your goal while living in this facility is to work out your emotional problems and family issues with the end result of being sent home." But my friend's problem was that her parents were too sick to work or take care of her.
Most adults can't imagine what it's like to grow up in an institution -- what it's like to have your basic rights as a human being turned in to "privileges." Basically, all these places use behavior modification to get kids to behave. The idea is that if they take everything away from you -- food, TV, radios, free time, sleep -- and offer it back only if you follow their rules, that will teach you how to live in this society. To the adults who run these institutions, life and growing up is like a math problem kids have to solve and conquer.
What you get in return are three hots and a cot -- three meals a day, a snack before bed, classes, exercise, medical and dental care. No one sees "fun" as a necessity.
And you can forget about loving. All institutions young people live in seem to have the same rule: No p.c. (physical contact). No touching. If nobody touches you at all for a long time, that begins to be all you think about. I used to hide in the bathroom and hug myself.
I was 15, but I felt after a while like I was 4 because I really just wanted somebody to hold me and touch me. When somebody did finally touch me it was a casual touch, on my knee, and it felt bad, like I was breaking their rules.
Lyn Duff, 18, ran away from a psychiatric institution at 15 and lived in group homes, shelters or on the streets for several years.
LYN DUFF
Punishing Kids for Lazy Parents
If an orphanage can provide a better environment than streets filled with drugs and violence, "Go for it."
Although the group homes I was in weren't exactly "kid heaven," they let me go to school and be a 13-year-old boy rather than the 30-year-old man I had to be on the streets.
I didn't like the idea of being separated from my family and having to listen to strangers tell me what to do. I didn't like being in a town I knew nothing about.
But after a while, I was able to make friends and go to high school and get into sports which every kid should be able to do. On the streets I didn't have time for these things. I had to worry about things like where I was going to sleep and eat.
I know a family right now that has three girls and two boys. The mother is in recovery from drug addiction. None of the kids' fathers is around. Two boys are with their aunt who's getting foster care money for them. They're going to school and taking karate lessons and living like kids should live.
On the other hand, another relative has custody of the three girls and uses their welfare money for her drug habit. They're not in school, they're living in a ganged-out, drug-infested neighborhood surrounded by prostitution. NOT GOOD. Those three little girls don't have a chance unless they get out of that neighborhood and into a home where they can be taken care of properly.
After some women have kids, it seems like they just give up on themselves and depend on the government to take care of them and their kids.
If welfare were taken away from those who are capable of working, and the kids were put in a foster home, group home or orphanage until the parent was able to parent, that might just give the parents the push they need to reunite with their families. If they choose to sit back and be lazy, at least their kids won't suffer with them.
William Johnson, 19, grew up in a variety of group homes and institutions.
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WILLIAM JOHNSON
Disappearing Counselors
What I learned from growing up in group homes is that the key to succeeding is having someone you trust -- a counselor who can help you come to terms with yourself, your parents, your past. The only problem is that once you find such a person, he or she generally quits and you feel abandoned. The job of youth counselor has a very high burnout rate.
When I was 12, the city of San Francisco took me away from my mother. I was staying in a makeshift room made of 2-by-4s and sheet rock next to the garage door. Our whole garage was made like that, with all the extra rooms in the house rented out to Chinese immigrants.
I slept on a couch surrounded by storage stuff, and had access BTC to a TV, phone and a tiny kitchen and bathroom which were filthy. My father had left my mother the house after he divorced her.
My first placement was in a group home with six kids and two or three counselors. The worst part was the rules and regulations. You were expected to get up early, make your bed, keep the room clean, go to school, do homework, keep set curfews and do assigned chores. Your weekly allowance depended on completing the chores and behaving properly. You got clothing allowances every month, and kids always wondered if they got their fair share or not.
One counselor, Tony, took a special interest in me. He'd take me to McDonald's for breakfast before school. He'd give me big hugs of encouragement. Several times he even took us boogie-boarding.
But at some point Tony disappeared, which was no surprise. Counselors always come and go, often taking the job just to have a roof over their heads.
And this is the downfall of these types of placements. As a kid you bond and open up to a counselor who ends up disappearing. You experience the same sense of loss as when you were taken from your home. As a result, you close up and harden, giving up any future attempt to know yourself by sharing your feelings.
My life began to stabilize again only when I was fortunate enough to have three counselors who really cared.
One was Darryl, a gay African-American, who would always be there when you needed anything. Michelle was a liberal, short-haired student, very supportive but at times strict and stern -- the qualities a woman needs in this line of work. Matt was a vegetarian hippie-type guy, whom I always felt comfortable talking to, knowing he could relate.
Thanks to these counselors, I was able to graduate from high school and overcome the difficulties of a broken home. But I believe I'm an exception to the rule.
G-Haw, 20, was raised in foster care and group homes from the age of 12.
G-HAW