THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 10, 1994 TAG: 9407100046
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: ELIZABETH SIMPSON
LENGTH: Medium: 62 lines
Which of us didn't crane our necks to catch sight of them on TV, or twist the newspaper to better grasp the blurry image of the boy and girl dressed in their Sunday best.
Five-year-old Justin Simpson, his hair neatly combed back, his sister, Sydney, 9, clasping a white rose, both children holding tight to father O.J.'s hand on their way to their mother's funeral.
But we don't have to squint so hard to see these smallest victims of family warfare. Child witnesses of domestic abuse are all around us.
Sometimes they're the family referee. Or the silent observer. Even asleep in adjacent rooms, they absorb the discord that disrupts midnight hours. It only takes one childhood memory of a mom-and-dad fight to remind us what it feels like when we think the world is ending.
For many children, that heart-thumping sensation is a way of life. Witness the 5-year-old Virginia Beach boy who slept with his parents because he thought his pajama-clad body between theirs would keep them from fighting.
Or the 12-year-old Suffolk boy who had to run next door to get help after his father knocked down the door with an ax, handcuffed his mother and raped her.
Or the Chesapeake 16-year-old who, just two weeks ago, futilely tried to step between his mother and her boyfriend to break up a fight. His mother is now in jail, accused of murdering her boyfriend in that electric moment. Her 5-year-old son gave the detective a rundown of what happened. ``My mom and Fish were arguing,'' began the boy's sordid tale.
As the details of these children's parents play out in newspaper pages and police reports, the destiny of the children is usually a footnote. ``Children staying with relatives,'' a story reads. ``Children in the care of Social Services,'' a court record reports.
However safe the haven they land, they've learned too young that life can be brutal. The effects are both immediate and latent. First, these children don't live the carefree lives that should be a birthright of childhood. They're too busy playing peacemaker, or worrying they caused a fight.
Second, their parents may be too preoccupied to give them attention. Abusers may use them as fodder for fights. Victims may be too beaten down to notice. ``You don't know what's happening to your children because you're too busy trying to survive,'' said a 48-year-old Norfolk mother who suffered more than a decade of abuse.
And what's most frightening to parents: Children, ever the fast learners, pick up patterns. Their narrow cast of adult characters is often divided into victims and abusers. Although child witnesses often grow up to lead nonabusive lives - Bill Clinton was such a witness - they're at a higher risk of picking one role or the other.
The mother of the boy who slept with his parents recalls seeing him throttle a playmate after losing a board game. The 10-year-old daughter of the Norfolk mother gets hysterical when she sees a man talking to her mother. Her teenage brother hits his mother during allowance disputes.
The single most important action parents can do to reverse the pattern is to change their own. ``Tell them you're sorry you didn't have the strength to leave, but that you do now,'' advises the Norfolk woman, who left her husband five years ago. ``Tell them. Then walk what you talk.'' by CNB