In October of 2009, my father was arrested for improper photography (of my sister and four of her friends earlier that summer, before they went to high school.) Following the arrest, children’s protective services special investigators pulled me from class to ask me questions about my father. It was during this month and year of my life that I realize that my family was different than others, and that abuse was not normal.
What I believed to be normal at the age of thirteen was really considered abuse. I thought everyone’s father treated them the same way we, my siblings and I, were treated. In our house you were hit, and it was always your fault if you were. You might get hit for any number of reasons (including just being in the wrong place when father was mad). In one of countless similar instances, I talked back at the dinner table. I was then kicked in the back, dragged by my neck into his garage, and locked in there (in the dark, and the Texas Summer heat) for over an hour. My siblings suffered as well, on one occasion, my father, threw my brother down the stairs at his house, and he frequently hit my sister. This abuse was so regular that it became normalized. I still loved my family and loved my dad.
My parents divorced in 2007, roughly two years prior to the arrest (and a year before the improper photography). My mother, nearly escaping the abuse herself, had been terrified to speak up about the abuse due to fears for her own personal safety. Hence, joint custody was granted, and every other week we now had to endure his abuse without the thin veil of protection, provided by my mother.
After his rest, the situation only worsened for me personally. My CPS required therapist told me it was my fault for aggravating the situation with my father by pushing my dad too far. My friends were no longer allowed to be my friends (per their parents). At 13, while in middle school, I suddenly felt dirty, unclean, and somehow damaged, following the intense ostracizing by my friends and classmates.
Ultimately, after his arrest, we were removed from joint custody and placed solely with my mother, but that didn’t change the fact that we had lingering scars. My father was never charged for anything related to the years of physical abuse he put my brother, my sister, and I through, nor were there repercussions for him for the years of emotional abuse, and it’s long-term consequences. We simply fell through the cracks of the system and were left to carry the lifelong pain and trauma; alongside the new blow that we didn’t matter enough to anyone in authority to invoke action, a feeling that we just weren’t important enough of a case for there to be action taken on our behalf.
It is because of my past experiences that I am studying law. I am motivated by a desire to see justice through to the end, to ensure that there are no faults in the system, and that no other child’s case slips through the cracks. I want to help solve problems. I want to help others, especially those who are hurting or scared. I also want to share my passion for change and make a difference. I believe that through my past experiences, I have the insight to be that person that I wish had been there for me, for my brother, and for my sister.