According to official government estimates, about a million young people run away from home every year.  Although most return to their homes within a short time, the remainder of these children do not.  These streetwise kids suffer serious hardships, sometimes turning to crime such as prostitution and shoplifting to survive.  Many become victims of sexual abuse, alcoholism, and drug addiction.  These kids are typically called "runaways," but once we understand what they are running from, we might more accurately label them "pushouts."

Coming up with solutions requires that we look at the core of the problem and its origins.  When we begin to see the connection of the people that have been role models for these children and the influences they have bestowed upon them, we can see more clearly the causal connection between attitudes and behaviors.  Dysfunctional families -- in which one parent might be a drug abuser and another might be in jail -- establish their own set of norms and social boundaries that are quite different from those of the rest of society.  We need to understand this if we want to get these kids off the streets and into mainstream society.

I come from a dysfunctional family involving sexual, physical, and mental abuse, and I have lived on the streets.  I left home before I was sixteen with no place to go, but anyplace was better than the hell I experienced at home.  Home was a twilight zone -- a reality seemingly too crazy to be true.  I discovered that my own ideals and moral values surpassed those of my parents; in many instances it seemed as if I were the parent.  I decided to escape.

There are several reasons that I ended up on the street.  One is that my parents no longer had control of me.  I was numb to their abuses.  Besides, they wanted me gone and told me so.  Another reason was that I could take the blame  for what was happening.  Things were escalating out of control, and my leaving would make it seem as if I were the one at fault.  Being the troubled teenager (and one who was always in trouble), I believed that I deserved whatever was coming to me. (This is still the view of my siblings today after 24 years.)  In addition, the school authorities failed to act  despite the warning signs.  My failing grades in school should have alerted school officials that something was wrong, yet no one intervened or inquired.  My teachers always passed me with a D average, but if they looked at my records they would have seen that I could do the work and that there was an underlying problem getting in the way.  Finally, I said nothing.  This was due to fear -- not fear for myself, though, as I really didn't care what happened to me.  Rather, I feared for my siblings.  I feared for my parents who, I thought, just didn't know any better and weren't really that bad.  After all, they didn't get involved in illegal activities or kill anyone (although they destroyed my self esteem and my soul, which I have since regained).

The impact of being on the streets -- in addition to the abuse and ordeal that gets you there to begin with -- changes your character.  Your self image no longer reflects society's values, as society itself has no relevance in your life for it has failed in supporting you in your time of need.  Consequently, the only thing you can count on is yourself.  To my mind, few understand this heightened level of individualism that characterizes the streetwise kid.  Unless you have truly experienced this, how can you possibly begin to understand streetlife and its causes?  This is always where the system goofs.  Policy makers assume that they have hit on the right solutions when, in fact, they have failed miserably.)

Streetwise kids have learned that in order to survive they must count on themselves.  They cannot count on family, and they have learned not to trust the people around them, including the system that has neglected their needs.  They trust no one in society nor others in their own social group.  Although they sometimes pair off and find one person they rely on, they still make no full-fledged commitment to any individual.  The ones who should have loved them the most have betrayed them.  Their only comfort is knowing that the other person they've paired up with is coming from the same situation and may share that same level of caring.  So there is no trust in anyone.  They would rather go without than be indebted to someone else or take the chance that the little self-worth they have will end in pain, a pain that they vowed would never happen to them again.  Many of these kids would not take an opportunity if one did come along, for that would mean coming out of their safety zone, a zone they have created for themselves and relied on for survival.  Even though this safety zone is by no means safe, it is what gets them by, for they are living off of pure survival instincts. They cannot see beyond today, for they know all to well that tomorrow may not come.

I have risen above the despairs of my youth (though they still continue to haunt me) and have tried to be active in helping kids in need by being an emergency teen placement foster family.  In this program we've received over a dozen placements and have noticed how the children are shuffled through the system without effective measures that really work.  Despite dedicated social workers, these kids are trapped in the status quo due to stringent regulations, bureaucratic red tape, inadequate budgets, and government officials who are both too economically and culturally distant from our streetwise kids. Effective solutions will not merely involve more social workers, bigger budgets, or changes in application processes.  Rather, we need real understanding of the social, psychological, and cultural framework with which these kids struggle and -- with any luck -- survive.

Americans should work to eliminate the use of Native American mascots, team names, and symbols in sports.  Native Americans have testified repeatedly to the negative impact of such images on their communities.  These mascots are caricatures based on inherently racist stereotypes and assumptions and function as unconscious propaganda.  They do not honor or ennoble Indians.  They operate as part of a racial ideology that helps to conceal the continuing genocide of indigenous peoples.

The fact that high profile sports events involving teams with names like Redskins, Indians, and Braves attract Native American demonstrations does not necessarily argue for an immediate change in the way we name and represent sports teams.  However, it should spur Americans to consider the issue more seriously.  When a group in our society consistently agitates to raise awareness about a perceived injustice, it behooves society at large to listen and take note. We should not ignore the voice of native people who continue to call our attention to this issue as part of a greater continuing injustice.  Indeed, when we truly listen, we find the clear cause of their anger.  The use of mascots reduces an entire race of people to the level of cartoon caricatures, side by side with cowboys and pirates.  One can also view the Indian in American sports as equivalent to an animal, like the lions, tigers, and bison so prevalent among mascots and team names.  And as Ward Churchill (1994) points out, one need only substitute a pejorative for African-Americans in place of Redskins, accompanied by appropriate visual stereotypes for the team icon, to make more clear the true racism involved in this practice.  Imagine the public reaction to such a team.

But the issue does not stop with racism.  These images are consistent with hundreds of years of distorted depictions of Native Americans, beginning at least with the earliest American literature.  When seen in this light, the Indian is, for example, a dispensable part of our historical conception of a hostile natural world or at best a noble savage in need of culture and civilization.  This we know, for all Indians have war bonnets and use tomahawks to scalp their enemies.  Perhaps most importantly, these images today convince us that all Indians are gone, a people of the past.  They effectively erase current Native American struggles to protect their lands and religious traditions, both of which are protected by the Constitution yet continue to be targets of manifold groups ranging from huge coal companies to the shamans of the New Age movement.  Indeed, the depiction of Indians in American sports seems innocuous compared to these greater evils.  But it is precisely the use of such images that helps to make invisible the real problems of Native Americans.  Nazi Julius Streicher was hung at Nuremberg in 1946, not for killing Jews, but for publishing racist editorials and cartoons which helped create the climate in Germany that allowed genocide (Ibid).   In much the same way, racist caricatures in American sports help create the climate that allows the continuing genocide of Native Americans.

Three major objections are often raised together in response to these arguments.  Weaker cultures have always been conquered by stronger ones in world history, so we should not concern ourselves with the protests of Native Americans.  In addition, the use of Indian names and images in American sports is an honor to Native peoples and not an instance of racism.  Finally, sports mascots and team names represent big money for many of those involved, and thus we cannot afford to eliminate the offending elements.

The first argument, aphoristic as it might seem, does not address the fact that we all have a choice, here and now, to discontinue this process.  To continue racist practices simply because our society has always been the conqueror vis-a-vis Native Americans is a morally untenable position.  The second argument demonstrates an arrogant disregard for the desires of Native Americans.  As Glenn T. Morris suggests, one cannot pretend to bestow honors when the honoree sees them as insults (cited in Churchill, p. 65).

The final objection is perhaps the most powerful because it appeals to the American wallet.  But, simply put, economic gain cannot be a justification for the continuation of racist practice.  Furthermore, while sports fans no doubt enjoy their team's mascot and traditions, it is dubious to suggest that they would lose long-term interest in their favorite sport or team because of a name change.  One goes to a baseball game primarily to watch baseball and have a good time, not specifically to chop the air and dress up like an Indian.  But even if this is not the case, the risk of lower income to institutions or sports franchises is justified if the result is the elimination of a racist practice in American culture.

Churchill, Ward. (1994). Indians Are Us? Monroe: Common Courage  Press.
 
 

I remember dwelling in dank hallways surrounded by herds of some of the loudest, most belligerent, superficial, and ignorant creatures I believed had ever roamed the planet.  This was my high school experience as I remember it.  The only reason I stayed in high school was so that I could get out of it.  I contemplated entering the working world immediately upon graduation but realized that without a degree there was a good chance I would spend the rest of my life working in conditions similar to those I was trying to escape.

Despite (or perhaps in spite of) my high school experience, I nurtured an ideal,  a mythical place called college.  A variety of influences helped to shape this ideal:  stories from friends, family, and teachers; posters; pamphlets; catalogs I received in the mail; and films like Dead Poets Society.  I came to think of college as a place where intelligent, open-minded people could better themselves, meet a diverse group of people, make lasting friendships, and gain the skills needed to lead the good life.  Finally, a place where people are free to be and express themselves in their own idiosyncratic ways without fear of humiliation, dehumanization, or physical harm.  A place to discover and improve oneself intellectually, emotionally, and physically.   In fact, I have been able to find this oasis alive and well within the minds and hearts of a few special individuals here on my campus.  Unfortunately, it seems that these values and beliefs are not among the norms of the general student body.

One of my major complaints about campus life is with the apparent absence of goal-oriented students.  Many do not seem to view their college experience as a chance for self improvement. Many students I have spoken with strongly believe that college is your last chance to be irresponsible. Shouldn't $50,000 buy you a little more than an extended childhood?  Excessive irresponsibility seems counterproductive to the pursuit of knowledge as well as one's psychological well being.

Some might argue that a little irresponsibility can be a useful tool for keeping sane during stressful times in the academic career.  More often than not, however, I have heard these same individuals complain about missing numerous classes due to hangovers or, in some more severe cases, because of alcohol-induced depression.

Perhaps irresponsibility comes about because for some students college is their first encounter with hard work or their first chance to be on their own.  Could we reduce the prevalence of the problem if we taught our children better coping tactics, or does the problem run deeper than that?  I don't believe that all high school graduates are developmentally ready to move on to higher education.  Our secondary public school systems have become less like educational institutions and more like meat packing plants.  Perhaps if more of these schools began to treat their students as adults, the gap between the ideal college life and the reality will begin to close.  The problem may also stem from students who are told at an early age that they are going to college -- no matter what.  Concerned parents may fear that unless their children "go directly to college," they may "go directly to jail."  As a result,  they are essentially herded off to school without ever having to examine their alternatives.

As you can imagine, a mob of drunken college boys whooping and howling outside your dorm window at two a.m. becomes less funny with each successive whoop and howl -- unless, I suppose, you are one of those drunken boys.  It is not beyond me to admit the possibility that I am being entirely too judgmental, but why do people who act that way bother to come to college?  Perhaps if they acted that way anywhere else, they would soon find themselves in jail.  So it seems that by some perverted twist of logic, even though idiotic behavior is contrary to the ideal that colleges have set for themselves, these same colleges also foster such behavior.  We need to close the gap between real and ideal culture on college campuses.   While this closure requires changes in the larger culture, our campuses can do a great deal by further encouraging and rewarding self-reflection, respect for others, and maturity in our student body.

Strip down
line up
for water or gas.
You should have at least been told the truth,
but I think you may have already known the horror that awaited you.
Punishment for being "impure."
Your chamber maid wasn't ushering you to the showers,
rather escorting you to your death.
No water fell upon your frail, naked, skeletal bodies that day,
only tears of bravery gently cleansed your cheeks drop by drop.
In that chamber you witnessed fear and uncertainty as the door was sealed;
you caught the last glimpse of life as you knew it.
Life, or a painful, disheartening existence?
One and the same.

Did you embrace as you stood in bewildered silence
waiting
anticipating
something
anything?
Get to say your "I love yous" in time before they couldn't be heard over the
 screams, cries, pleas that fell upon deaf ears?
Manage to smile courageously to comfort and reassure that all the pain
 and suffering would soon end?
Or die alone -- your own private hellish ordeal, surrounded by strangers
 who clung to you, and who you clung to?
We will never know what thoughts ran through your minds;
final thoughts.
We can only imagine.

Did you notice the mote that surrounded the chamber?
wonder what it was for?
believe it was simply for the water that was supposed to wash over your starved,
overworked, exhausted, aching bodies?
FREEDOM THROUGH WORK?
ALL LIES.

The horrible stench that must have lingered as you crossed into the chamber -- the mote empty now but soon to be flowing.
Flowing with your shit, throw up, urine, saliva, sweat, tears--
all your bodily excretions.
Life was drained from the chamber,
emptied in the mote.
That was you.
All that was left of you.

Did you recognize your chamber maid as one of your own?
exchange a sorrowful glance as you passed by,
as you crossed the mote and entered the extermination vault?
Your chamber maid wanted to live just like you,
as much as you.
There is no doubt that it tore them up inside to fulfill their duty --
their obligation:
Your death.
Their prolonged survival.
If given the chance, would you have taken their place?

Drop the poison that you drew in,
slowly and methodically it
crippled your breathing,
slowed your heartbeat,
exploded your body.
breath
breath
gasp
gasp
b r e a t h l e s s.

No more pain
no heartache,
Rest sweet children
too soon
too soon.
You are the chosen ones.
"Chamber Maid, lift up my body and
carry me on --
carry me away."

This poem received honorable mention at the first annual presentation of entries for the Charles Hildebrandt Award at Keene State College on April 20, 1998.  This award honors Professor Hildebrandt for 30 years of dedicated teaching and for his extraordinary work establishing the Keene State College Holocaust Resource Center.  This award is presented each year by jury selection to the student who creates the most outstanding piece of work on the Holocaust.