Author Archives: Elea Lee

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About Elea Lee

Foster parent, adopting parent, family advocate, educator, homeschool parent

The Practice of Justice

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When I mull over the latest horrendous story of a child being exploited or murdered I think–somewhere in the multiverse there is a version of me who writes a blog on great chili recipes.

I hate this beat.

But I write about it because I know that exploited children are forgotten, marginalized, stigmatized, and dismissed.

How do I know? Because my children are crime victims. It has been a lonely road for all of us. We have lost family and friends. People react with distance at best. I am not going to catalog “at worst.”

But here is the thing–my kids–the crime victims are vibrant, intelligent, compassionate, wise beyond their years.

I write for them in belief that many other children who have been victimized deserve to heal with dignity.

They deserve a voice.

If you say you are “against child abuse” but then sideline, stigmatize, and ignore actual victims you drive home a message of silence, oppression, and injustice that indeed speaks louder than words.

It all comes down to who you actually invite to your party. That is the test of justice. Ironically it is also the measure of love.

The Age Factor: Ahlittia North

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Sometimes in the effort to write about extremely difficult stories I cut corners in my clarity of purpose.

It is hard to face so many tragedies.

But this time I need to be painfully explicit:

If the news report is correct, Ahlittia’s mother was a mother by 14. Her current partner is 46.

13 year olds do not decide to have sex for kicks (with other 13 year olds). They are more likely to be the sexual targets of older men. That is rape.

When I was 13 I knew a young woman who was pregnant as a result of incest–raped by her step-father. I hope he went to jail for it, but I am not optimistic.

I do know that my schoolmate was brave and deserved more support and help than she received. To carry a pregnancy at 13…to walk through the aggression of rape by a family member…

Her child is 30 now.

When I say, good folk did nothing, I mean this–

Whatever the story of Ahlittia’s murder, her life proves that her very young mother was a victim as well.

Baby girl is gone, who will help Lisa North? And more to the point–who could have helped before her kindergartener was murdered?

What happened to Lisa was a crime.

What happened to her daughter was unspeakable. But we must learn to speak it.

Make yourself uncomfortable. Ask the hard questions. And treat the Lisa Norths of the world like kin.

Because, to quote Carson McCullers–the life you save may be your own.

–praying for Lisa.

Gizzell Kiara Ford

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I went to the Vietnam memorial with my father once. He never said much about his time in the war but I knew it was a game-changer. He combed the wall in silence looking for a name, names…when he found the one he was looking for he touched it in silence. Memories of the dead.

This is my Vietnam memorial. Gizzell Kiara Ford is on it. Beautiful child. Lost.

Alittia North–Another Child in the Trash?!

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I tried repeatedly to post the Amber alert for Alittia North. Facebook did not allow it. I can’t tell you why I did not blog about her other than a lack of information and a sinking feeling.

Now the information is grim.

No one should ever throw a child away. No one should ever treat a human life like a discarded gum wrapper.

Years ago I taught in a neighborhood where a little girl was found in a trash bin. There are no words to describe the pain of knowing a beloved child has been treated so abominably. It lowers the value of all human life and raises the haunting question–why?

It seems to me our modern record is becoming mired in the bodies of our children–young, defenseless, abused, and murdered.

Do not turn away. Do not pretend this is some kind of statistical inevitability. In every case like Alittia’s someone did something terribly wrong to a child and…a whole bunch of regular folk did nothing to stop them.

Juror B37

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The money quote from a middle-aged white lady in Florida:

“she did not think the shooting was racially motivated and that Zimmerman would have reacted the same way to someone of any race.”

C’mon people tell me you understand why that is freaking scary.

Not just for Trayvon.
Not just for his gated community.
Not just for Florida.
But for all of us–his neighbors.

Stan Who Had Two Dads

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Dearest Boy,

After I read about you I wrote a bunch of stuff. Then I walked, prayed, and cried. Some people won’t tell your story out of fear; others only out of fear.

But what I am afraid of is this–that no one will be there to heal the damage, that no one will tell you

none of this is your fault, and little of it needs to define you.

You deserve to survive this. You deserve birthday parties and pony rides, rock climbing and ice cream. You deserve to sit at a table with people who see you, know your story, and say I love you, Stan. You are a great kid..

Just because you were raised by wolves…doesn’t mean you are one.

No, dear, Lamb, you are a boy. Loved by a real Dad…the only one who can heal us all from the monsters, smiling in the picture: so broken.

OJ Simpson, Trayvon Martin, and Justice in America

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When OJ Simpson was on trial for murder I worked in an elementary school in a poor, urban area. Most of my colleagues were African American.

We huddled around the tv at lunch to see what was going on. I remember the day of the verdict. Most of my fellow teachers cheered as though their football team had won.

I wondered–

where was justice?

I really doubt that many of them actually thought Simpson was not guilty. What they thought was

life is not fair for black men in America.

It isn’t.

And now we see it not being fair again. We see justice again faltering–this time the victim is African American and the team cheering is white.

This is not a football game.

It is not right for any of us to be so blinded by the outside of another person’s life that we rejoice in their pain, their murder, or their injustice.

Do not tell me God is in charge in the world today if He is not in charge of your heart.

When we bay for blood, hate, and bottled feces in a world shot through with agony and loss we prove we know nothing about love.

And make no mistake. God is not our little Santa Claus, He is not the captain of the white folk football team.

He is love and He is coming soon, with justice in His strong right arm.

That should make us all pray hard. Because not not one of us is holy.
Not one.

A Word for Trayvon

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My heart aches for Trayvon’s family. A guilty verdict would not have summoned him back.

That is what a parent wants when their child dies.

They don’t care where the jewelry came from, they go over and over and over everything that happened… they wish they could have a do-over.

A do-over: keep Zimmerman’s ass in the car…convince the boy to stay home and play a video game…something…something that would have kept him alive.

No jury can do that. No judge can raise the dead.

Which is one more reason for all of us to mourn.