signs

A mother and her children got onto the subway this morning a few stops after mine. Due to the transit dispute and problems on the line the mother was worried that they may have to get out at an earlier stop and walk of the rest of the way to school. The daughter who was holding onto the pole softly comments to herself, “ just in case” and moves back to where her mother is standing so that she may hold her mothers hand. As she grasped her mother’s hand her mom growled “get off of me.” The first of many shivers tickled down my spine and sadness infuses my heart. A few seconds before they approached their stop the daughter asked her sibling if she could have another sip of their drink. The mother instantly rounds on her daughter, her voice is angry and irate, shaking a finger directly in the child’s face, her words are harsh. The child steps back, cowers and raises her hand defensively in front of her head as if she is expecting her mother to strike her.

I felt so helpless watching as the events unfolded before me. I have no idea what to do in these situations. Do I confront the mother? Do I tell social services? Or do I sit meekly in my spot pretending that it isn’t happening?

I landed up sitting there meekly, pretending that it was just another argument. Hoping that that it was an isolated case. That it was just a bad day and that tomorrow everything would be ok. However, in my heart I recognized the signs. The upraised arms, protection from a blow that she knows is coming. The cowering, a sign to indicate that she is at their whim, that she is sorry and that they are right. The curling up on oneself, security from the harshness, from the pain, from the knowledge that she is not as loved as she should be.