Is Biology a License to Abuse and/or Neglect?

It seems to me that the court system sees a biological connection as reason enough to force interaction. As I follow the cases of two of my single mother friends (and as I read what news I can stomach on the subject), I am continually struck by the ease with which judges grant visitation and/or custody to parents who abuse or neglect (or sometimes worse) the children in their care.

Friend number one, whom I shall call Arlene, has an abusive, belligerent ex-husband who has wanted little if anything to do with their son – in fact, when they were married, he tried to force Arlene to have an abortion when she was pregnant with this very son. He changes his tune when he perceives that showing interest in his progeny might benefit him in some way (such as lowering child support). Spurred on by his parents who are more interested in his parental rights than he is, Arlene’s ex continues to harass her with threatening, hateful emails and telephone messages, even threatening her life. Their son, aged 4, hardly knows his dad, but he (the dad) randomly shows up and demands time with his son, demands his rights as a parent, and uses visitation and custody for strictly vengeful purposes. Why is it about a parent’s “rights”? Why can’t it be about his responsibilities, and for heaven’s sake, why can’t it be about reality? It is not realistic to expect a 4 year old to go cheerfully with someone who is a total stranger to him, simply because of a biological connection. Children know nothing of biology; they know everything about relationship, and a father can not (or should not) expect to reap relational rewards where he does not sow.

Friend number two has a situation so volatile I can not refer to it on the web – but I do want to point out one glaringly obvious fact that many of these judges overlook: an ex-husband who continually harangues his child’s mother, even in the name of his parenting rights, is causing great stress and trauma to the child, thus showing evidence of his status as an unfit parent.

Why are we so obsessed with rights in this country? When will children be given equal protection under the law? When will these little ones be heard and not have psychobabble applied in interpreting everything they say? If a child says he (I am using a neutral “he” here) is afraid to go with his parent, if a child says that a parent hurts him, when one parent has *indisputable* evidence of neglect and abuse when the child is in the other parent’s care, if a child prefers death over spending time with the parent, why do judges continue to order visitation? Would a judge order a battered woman to return to her abusive spouse?

I wish this post had more answers than questions, but I am afraid the opposite is true. I wonder why father’s rights organizations are springing up all over the place, complete with billboards and radio ads, when they propose no alternative, only anger at the current laws that deny them their “rights” because, they claim, such laws favor one parent over the other which is not in favor of the children involved. Parents need to get over their need to have their rights fulfilled and understand that parenting involves sacrifice, and sometimes that means getting out of the way. And sometimes, favoring one parent over the other is in the child’s best interest – especially when that other parent is an abuser.

I am not referring here to parents who genuinely love their children and desire to spend time with them, and find themselves having to go to court to obtain that time. But there must be a distinction made between those who use the legal system to badger, harass, and torment their exes and their children and those who really need legal help to gain access to their children. Judges can discern such things – they are judges, after all – by evaluating the legal history of the parent who is requesting more visitation time; judges can take into consideration the point of view and feelings of the child (imagine that); judges can question the parent deeply as to why he or she is requesting more time with the child. And most importantly, judges need to realize that biological, genetic connection to a child does not grant automatic access to that child.

Swinging

It is not until one reaches a certain age and level of experience that he begins to desire not so much time’s stoppage, but its encapsulation. In my 20s, certainly I enjoyed all kinds of activities and “moments,” understanding that such would likely not be repeated; but it was a vague understanding at best. Now, at 34, I understand a bit more that what has been given can be taken away. The difference is that now, living my life in real time is still too fast. In my 20s, real time was long enough, thank you, and seemed fast only in retrospect. Now, the very moments are liquid, sliding by before they can truly be enjoyed. This morning, taking my exercise on the level yard beside my house, was just such a moment.

The cats and the dog were out with us, charming and entertaining; the cool air was clear with September’s sharp shadows, and my 4 year old son was swinging. I confess to a bit of annoyance at his insistence that I keep pushing him – I was trying to walk for exercise, and to break the rhythm with umpteen swing-pushes was frustrating. But despite this inconvenience, a certain desire began to creep in – a desire to slow down the fluid nature of the moment and savor it. Certainly I planned to do this same routine tomorrow morning, but would we both be here tomorrow? Would something – illness, accident – take my son from me before the next sunrise? Would tragedy of a national or global nature suddenly strike, ending all pretense of normalcy and lifestyle? I saw a vision in my mind – my son’s swing, dirty and worn, empty save old autumn leaves cupped in its seat, bearing testament to lack of use. I saw a breeze, chilly and lonely, coaxing it to slight movement, reminiscent of its former, gleeful occupant who, for whatever reason, is no longer there. It could be an innocent reason – simply the flow of time, taking the little boy as on a river’s current and replacing him with a man; it could be something swifter and more sinister – an accident, a murder, an abduction; it could be a reason between these extremes.

There is an ache in this vision. When God tips His phial of our lives’ liquid, it pours forth and can not be gathered up again. The present becomes the past with merciless inexorability, and, although the future can not be discerned in detail, there are cruel certainties that come with it – the swing will, indeed, be empty someday and, even if its abandonment is for perfectly innocent and healthy reasons, there will be an aching poignancy that accompanies that fact.

My son needed to be pushed again. My realization of the above quelled my frustration and I went gladly, making a point of patting my dog and stroking my cats on the way.