Summary

The text reflects on the systemic nature of trauma and poverty, particularly focusing on the impact of multigenerational trauma and societal issues on individuals, especially women and children.

Abstract

The author delves into the complex web of societal problems, emphasizing that individual blame often overshadows the cruelty of the system that perpetuates poverty and trauma for profit. The narrative touches on the cyclical nature of abuse and the normalization of toxic relationships, which are often rooted in early exposure to such dynamics. It highlights the struggle of individuals, particularly young girls, who navigate a world where they are subjected to harassment and violence, often lacking positive paternal role models. The piece calls out the societal tendency to victim-blame and the failure to address the underlying causes of crime and dysfunctional family structures. It underscores the need for compassion and support, advocating for systemic change rather than superficial solutions to deeply entrenched social issues.

Opinions

The author criticizes the profitability of poverty and trauma, suggesting that the system benefits from the suffering of individuals.
There is a strong opinion against victim-blaming, particularly in cases of abuse and violence against women and children.
The text suggests that multigenerational trauma, such as witnessing domestic violence, has a profound impact on children, shaping their expectations and experiences in relationships.
The piece expresses frustration with societal attitudes that pathologize the symptoms of systemic issues as individual problems.
It is implied that the lack of positive male role models contributes to the cycle of trauma and the search for father figures in harmful places.
The author points out the hypocrisy of individuals who benefit from the system while simultaneously criminalizing those who are victimized by it.
There is a call to recognize the humanity of those affected by these issues, emphasizing that every individual is someone's family member.
The text advocates for a more empathetic and effective approach to addressing social problems, beyond punitive measures like incarceration.
The author believes that society has become desensitized to the absence of fathers in children's lives, treating it as a norm rather than a concern.
The piece concludes with a message of hope and resilience, encouraging support and empowerment for those affected by the system's cruelty.

Daddy Issues

The longer I live, the more I struggle with assigning blame to individual people; the system is cruel, and we are nothing, if not its offspring

And some people are shocked to hear that poverty is profitable; that trauma makes money; that its masters make a killing

It was over before you opened your mouth, but you can speak now. It’s alright, I know you lie because your lips are moving

She likes it when a man puts his hands on her, I hear you say, so that’s why, years later, she’s still going through it

New man, old tricks

New place, old habits

You say she likes her men toxic

But telenovelas have nothing on the drama of multigenerational trauma

Lifetime movies in real time birth documentaries stranger than fiction

Disregard for humanity is our country’s greatest affliction

Yes, Miss Ma’m, sure do have a problem, cause that girl’s somebody’s daughter

Learned to expect that people put hands on each other, that’s what her dad taught her

Now she’s out on her own and she doesn’t even know

What good means or healthy looks like, children reap what parents sow

She didn’t beat herself up, she didn’t choke herself out

Didn’t make herself pregnant and there’s kids involved now

And the system’s making money on her terror and her trauma

Statistically, she saw a man put hands on her mama

Little girl in elementary school is 5’4 with size eight shoes

Harassed by men who are twice her age with nothing else to do

Doesn’t feel good, but it’s something

More than she heard from dad this month

And she wants a father so badly

Mom does all she can, still not enough

And I know you wouldn’t dare talk about your own little girl that way

But telling me that this girl’s fast is all you have to say

All she wants is a father’s love, not to say that she’s for sale

Say this little girl will be on Lyell, selling fruit cocktail

Her story doesn’t have to end this way, we have a choice

To tell her that she matters and to help her find her voice

Guess that I get mad sometimes, different people, same worn out lines

“She asked for it”

“Well if she just…”

“Well why can’t she…”

“She could’ve done…”

My anger boils over cause the eyes of the woman in front of me

Are the same sad eyes I used to see, eyes in the mirror looking back at me

I tell her that it’s gonna get better but I didn’t used to believe me

It’s not the kind of thing that we believe until it’s something we can see

I look at you with a straight face because we’re in a meeting

But in my mind I roll my eyes, in this girl’s position, I’d do the same darn thing

Tell me again that she’s threatening without telling me what she said

Tell me again that you’re scared of a kid and I’ll smack you upside the head

If you wouldn’t dare roll down your window where some kids sleep at night

Then how can you decide if they should have a place to sleep at night

You say that gangs are evil but the trap has a door. The trap has a roof. The trap has a floor.

And mom’s trying her best, but he needs something more

Mom can’t be a father so a father’s what he looks for

You order stuff from amazon and complain about crime in the same breath

Some people make six figures as legal criminals, some people get W2’s for theft

I believe every homicide is one too many and I know that larceny’s not right

But all you want to do is put layers of band-aids on gunshot wounds so they’re out of sight

Broken homes that you broke, you set fires and blame the smoke

I don’t back down, now you’re exposed

Push out the teacher who taught her kids about how they’ll grow up out of the concrete, roses

Tupac said to keep ya head up

But that’s against your agenda

Somebody’s father, somebody’s mother, somebody’s child, somebody’s brother

Lock them up or take them away or say goodbye cause they’re six feet under

People with white picket fences engineer the systems that regulate the trenches

So many kids don’t know their father and it’s like that’s become accepted

Hatred, misdirected

Functional families, intercepted

Pathologizing damage from the system as though

It’s individual problems that can be corrected