Zero Tolerance, Real Boundaries: A Mother’s Stand After Her Son Fights Back

standing in a kitchen, and my foster brother was blocking the doorway. I remembered the heavy feeling in my chest, the instinct to freeze, to be small, to be silent.

Don’t cause trouble, the social workers had always told me. You’re lucky to have a placement. Be grateful. Be a good girl.

In the system, “good” meant invisible. “Good” meant you didn’t continue reading …