When you dig deep, you’ll find that both victim and perpetrator were fighting silent battles
When I was 22, I spent a night in jail for credit card fraud. I was a mother to six-month-old twins, unwed, and an undergrad in college. My former partner and the father of my children had not paid child support in months and I was struggling financially. So when I was issued a credit card under his name and purchased $300 worth of diapers, clothing, and other necessities for the babies, I was doing what I thought necessary for our survival.
While the arresting officers were kind to me, I was met with swift disdain by the officers at the jail. The suggestion of my crime garnered the dismissal of my humanity. No one looked me in the eye and I remember being left in a cell for hours after I requested a tampon because my period had started. In a moment of frustration, when I raised my voice in defense, the correctional officer retreated and drew a weapon. In this time and place, I was a shell of a woman that didn’t have a face. Read more…