Starting With Independence: Love

I feel compelled to share this with everyone in hopes that one person will do something nice for someone else today:

I work in a low-income, high-crime area of Charlotte. I have my concealed carry permit, but no gun (soon to be changing) and pepper spray. By training, I constantly scan people with my eyes to see if they're carrying a weapon, or where they could be concealing one. And if I get out of my car to go in anywhere in the area around my work, I carry in my pepper spray. Yesterday, I stopped in a convenience store on my way back from lunch and witnessed a little girl- no older than maybe eight- two people ahead of me in line being barraged by the man she was with about "how much fking money she costs him...what a selfish little bch she is" and how lucky she was they were in public because he was going to "teach her about the value of sh*t when they got home."

May I repeat that a grown man, whoever he was to her, loudly called an elementary-aged child a "selfish little bch" then threatened her in the crowded line at a convenience store?! To be clear, I am pro-spanking as discipline and I got many a "I'm gonna count to three before I embarrass you in this grocery store/restaurant/birthday party/school/church function, etc." as a child and I knew I’d better straighten up quick or my bottom was going to sting when we got home. But you could tell by the tone in his voice and the contempt he had in his eyes that this wasn't just going to be a spanking, and it wasn't for the purpose of discipline. To make matters worse, not one of the seven or eight other adults standing in the store or behind the counter even batted an eye- like this was just business as usual! I was appalled that not one person in that store was going to stand up for this little girl, or at least pretend to look uncomfortable!

While the man was fumbling with the contents of his pockets that he’d emptied onto the counter, I caught the little girl’s eyes. In an attempt to keep her from the tears she was on the verge of, I smiled, squatted down to her level, asked her how she was and (without thinking) said, “it’s okay honey, sometimes adults get mad and say things they don’t mean but…” The belligerent man cut me off, grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around to face the counter, telling her not to listen to people who need to mind their own business. This was completely unnecessary since she was too afraid to even look up from the ground or speak to me once I tried to engage her.

I stood up, turned my attention to the "man" who was starting to put his belongings back in his pockets and in the sweetest, most polite, non-confrontational voice I could muster said, "Sir, there's no reason to talk to a pretty little girl that way, is there? Besides, you’re in public and there are other children and women around who could be offended by your loud cursing." Everyone in the store went silent. Obviously shocked to be challenged, he turned his whole body to face me and said (so angrily that he was spitting, and the patrons standing between us stepped back- thanks guys) that I should keep my "white, bch mouth closed if I knew what was good for me." He was so close to me I could have reached my arm out and put my hand almost completely flat against his chest. Again, not one person witnessing this even flinched. Despite how terrified I was, I put on the most resolute face I could and in the biggest white girl move ever held the pepper spray- that I was clutching from the moment I walked in the door- in between my face and his. Almost predictably, he laughed...laughed! He goes from berating this poor child to getting in my face, cursing me, and doubting my intention of protecting myself. Um, no, momma don't play that.

[This part of the story won't go down in history as one of the classier times in my life, and I refer to this type of explosion of raw, impassioned fury as "the Robeson County coming out of me," but I blanked. It rarely happens but when it does, I think I am invincible for some reason, only to realize later that is not the case...not the case at all. I'm working on it.]

I took a step half-step toward him, closing the distance between us, and with every drop of the sweet, polite, Southernness gone from my voice, I looked over the pepper spray and into his eyes and said something to the effect of, "You can take yourself a step back or get to experience what it feels like to have an entire can of mace emptied on your punk ass in front of that little girl you've been disrespecting. You might feel like a tough guy because you can intimidate someone who hasn't even taken the EOG's, but you don't scare me." I was scared. My life potentially depended on how he reacted to the ultimatum I’d just spewed at him. Time. Stopped. The Robeson County in me was gone and I was back to being essentially unarmed, in a convenience store I know is in one of the most dangerous parts of the city, threatening a man who clearly has a propensity for violence, while surrounded by a group of people who up until this point had shown nothing but apathy. I’ve never even had to pull my pepper spray on anyone before. What the hell was I thinking?

He took a step back and tried to provoke me into following through on my threat with the words "try me." The only thing that could leave my lips was, “you stepped back didn’t you?” Being the crime-heavy place it is, law enforcement is ever-present. By sheer destiny, I saw a police car pull into the parking lot and the man followed my eyes with his. He grabbed the rest of his things, the little girl by the wrist, and drug her behind him out the door. I suddenly realized that he was surely going to take all of his anger towards me out on her. I couldn’t let them just walk away knowing that I had likely single-handedly put that little girl in even more danger by trying to help, so I went out the door after them/for the police and was met at the door by the officer. He asked me if everything was okay and I pointed to the man and said- through the tears that were welling in my own eyes, “you may need to have a discussion with that man about how he treats women and children.” The officer stopped the man and the little girl as another police car pulled into the parking lot. The new officer and his partner separated the man and child while I explained what had transpired.

After gathering information and statements from the spineless bunch inside, the officer informed me that this whole hateful outburst began when the girl put a snack on the counter that his EBT card wouldn’t cover. I declined the officer’s offer to file a report, but repeatedly begged him not to let the girl leave with him. I was told that I could leave since I didn’t want to file a report, but that they would continue to interview the little girl and if they found evidence of abuse, she wouldn’t be released to him until Child Protective Services reviewed the case. Anxious for the girl, I got in my car and left.

I couldn’t comprehend that THAT was what all of this was over. HIS inability to find enough change to cover the $1.29 difference was what made him react in such a volatile manner. I would have happily covered the difference for him had I known that would have been all it took to protect this girl for at least a few minutes. I guess, subconsciously, it was why I instinctively said something without thinking about the potential consequences. In no way did I want to go toe to toe with this angry man, but better me than a little girl who hasn't even hit puberty yet. Surely people aren't so indifferent that one of the men- or even women- in the store would have stepped in had things gotten physical, right? Maybe I was the first person who ever told him that speaking to a child that way is inexcusable and he’ll work on it. Maybe I'm the first person any of those people had ever seen stand up for a stranger and it showed them that it's okay for people to care about other people even if they don't know them. Maybe she'll remember this in ten years when a boy tries to put her down and she'll know that she is completely justified in telling him to go screw himself, that she deserves better. Maybe he beat the hell out of her when they got home and it was my fault. I hope it wasn't the latter and I'll probably lose sleep worrying about that girl, but I want to believe that something good came from what I did.

I don't know where the disconnect is with people, but children are a product of their environment. No wonder kids use language that is too mature for their age and grow up to be disrespectful, angry, self-harming, irresponsible, violent people, or think they are undeserving of success or love or respect. If someone they see as important treats them like trash when they’re most impressionable, they’re going to believe they’re trash. They think they're astronauts, bus drivers, princesses, rock stars, vets, or whatever; but as a society we have to remember that there's more to children than vivid imaginations. They're sensitive, fragile sponges who see and hear more than we give them credit for, and they have feelings that are easily hurt. They need people in their lives to look up to, people who speak to them like they're important, who care about their betterment and making them feel special and loved. This little girl looked broken and defeated. No one should be made to feel broken or defeated; not an eight year old, not you, not me, not anyone you care about, not even a stranger. I'm far from perfect and I say ugly things more often than I'd like to admit, but I think if every person on this planet woke up every morning and decided to live their life by The Golden Rule, the world would be a lot nicer place to be.

Mom, thank you for raising me to be a person who understands right from wrong, for instilling in me the courage to be willing to speak for those who can't speak for themselves, and for never making me feel broken. And most importantly, everything is fine so DON’T FREAK OUT.

Several months ago Kristin Timmerman from Project: Babies shared a link about a family adopting a little girl named Rose. The idea was simple, and quite creative. The family needed $5,000 more dollars in their adoption fund, so they bought a 1,000 piece puzzle and put a price tag of $5 on each piece. Giving up two minutes and $5 earned you a spot on a piece of the puzzle, and in this little girl and new family's life.

Through a series of events, the family has actually ended up adopting a little boy named Noah. Though this wasn't the original plan, the puzzle is complete and I know that my name is on the back of it somewhere. I know that I helped a family bring home a part of their heart. I know that I helped a child find a home full of love, and helped bring him to a life of happiness.

I also bought a piece in memory of Matt. He loved children and he loved the idea of starting a family of his own. I hope to be able to support many families in his memory- even though it unfortunately isn't an option for him, others can have a family in his name. And his love will be intertwined with every.single.one.