Why Not Offer Her A Chair?

On December 7th, Jazmine Headley went to a public benefits office in Brooklyn to renew day care assistance for her 18 month old son.  After waiting for four hours, Ms. Headley – unable to find another place to sit – simply sat on the floor with her child. 

But apparently she sat in the wrong place.  Soon thereafter, security guards and then police officers approached her.  A confrontation ensued, captured by a video showing the officers and guards trying to rip her screaming baby from his mother’s arms.  They arrested Ms. Headley and separated her from her baby. After spending five nights in jail, she was released and all charges against her were dropped.  Throughout the struggle, officers never bothered to even ask Ms. Headley for her name.  According to Ms. Headley, “They never said, ‘Hello, who are you?’ They never asked me.”

It would be easy to disregard this incident as a poor decision made by a few rogue actors.  But my work over the last fifteen years as a lawyer for poor families in the foster care system has taught me something different.  Ms. Headley’s story is yet another example of a pervasive practice of dehumanizing those in poverty, especially as it relates to the relationships between poor parents and their children.

In what ways do we do this?  Like in Ms. Headley’s case, we start by not referring to parents by their actual names.  Instead, we call them “Respondent.”  Or “Mom.”  Or “Mother.”  It is a not-so-subtle reminder to these parents that they don’t matter.  If they did, we’d bother to learn their names. 

We make parents wait for hours for cases to be called, or meetings to begin.  Yet we never apologize for the delay.  Nor do we provide them adequate spaces to wait, or places for their children to play.  Instead we expect them to be grateful for the privilege to meet with those of us who hold power over their lives.

When parents in poverty don’t conform to what we want, we threaten to take their children from them.  Despite the clear research showing that separating children from their parents is the “nuclear option” as it relates to a child’s development, government agencies routinely threaten it when a parent doesn’t comply with mandates. Ms. Headley’s case illustrates this principle well.  Officers separated her from her son – inflicting irreparable harm on him – simply because she was sitting in the wrong spot. 

This callousness reflects our ingrained belief that those in poverty don’t deserve to be parents and shouldn’t be caring for their children anyway.  One parent with whom I worked – whose four children entered foster care because she was a domestic violence victim – wasn’t allowed to see her children for six weeks.  Another was told – by her own lawyer – that she was “too dirty” to be a parent.  A judge told one mother that she wasn’t a worthy parent because she didn’t graduate from high school.  And frequently, parents like Ms. Headley who assert their rights are labeled as “belligerent,” “combative,” or “angry.”  These stories abound in any system that regulates the poor.

The stunning part is that this dehumanization is so engrained in our world that we don’t even notice it when it happens.

Father Gregory Boyle, director of HomeBoy Industries, suggests a different approach – that those who serve the poor seek a compassion “that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgment at how they carry it.”

What would a world guided by this spirit look like.  We’d admire the fact that Ms. Headley had the concern to go to a government office to fight for day care assistance for her son.  We’d recognize the patience she showed while waiting for four hours – with a young child in tow – simply to have the opportunity to explain her situation.  We’d acknowledge the fear she experienced when she was told that she’d have to wait a month before she could receive day care assistance for her child.  How many of us would have the strength to carry these burdens?

And instead of judge her actions, maybe we’d ask her for her name?  Show a little compassion.  Offer her a cup of coffee, or some toys for her son to play with.  And then offer her a chair to sit on. 

Isn’t this the type of world we wish to create?