a foster care life journey
Posted by DK | Filed under Uncategorized
At our last Justice NOW gathering on May 22, 2009, Joanna Brown shared her journey as a person who has gone through the foster care system in the U.S. Her story is one of incredible hardship, abuse and heartache but also one of great redemption and Grace. Please take the time to read this journey and we hope you will consider being a part of a redemptive story for someone else in need:
From the moment I took my first breath, God had a unique plan for me. As he molded me in my mother’s womb, developing every intricate detail of my being, he whispered softly, “this one is special… she is going to serve a great purpose for me.” One would look at my life and think, how could you say or think such a statement of truth? My life was far from a fairytale and close to complete destruction, every monumental event building upon one another developing the person I’ve become today. To look at your life, no matter how painful it has been, and be able to see the beauty in the ashes is one priceless realization anyone can attain. I look back on my past and see the valuable experiences and lessons learned that can be used to make a difference, to help heal the hurt and restore the lost. A vast hold of knowledge that could be used for the good and to turn the negative cycles into times of renewing faith, steadfast hope and unfailing love. I want to leave behind a legacy of one who loved with all her heart and gave with all that I had to make a difference, no matter how small, to remind people that they are loved, special, unique and valuable. And so with that spoken, I share my story with you with great anticipation it inspires you, encourages you and gives you the hope that life is worth living every single moment with all that you have because you too have a story to tell and experiences to share that can make a significant difference.
As much as I’d like to say my life began on a positive trend, unfortunately it didn’t. My family life was far from the all American dream… it was a life lived in poverty, chaos and tragedy. My father was an alcoholic, drug addict who was in and out of jail from the time he was 13 years old. Stability was not a virtue he held and the values of being a loving husband was far from his understanding as he had the habit of beating my mother regularly. Screaming and fighting was a regular occurrence in our home saturated with alcohol and highlighted with drug addiction. We lived in San Pedro, each day was about survival, whether it was sleeping on the floor of a friends house for a few days or finding the next project that had space to take us all in… we were regularly on the move. My father held a steady job, but his addictive lifestyle made it difficult to manage the details and responsibility of supporting a family of six. With the constant fighting and physical abuse, my mother finally decided she couldn’t take it anymore and had concluded she was going to leave my dad. In the midst of their last and final fight, she suddenly left , taking me with her and leaving my other siblings behind. I am not sure what persuaded her to only take me with her that night… but her decision cost her life and almost mine.
She proceeded to hitch a ride with a stranger that night, with the hopes of getting away from the chaos that we lived. That night my mother and I ended up at the strangers’ home… which ended in a gruesome tragedy. Evilness prevailed that night, as the stranger proceeded to sexually abuse me, which led to my mother attacking him in efforts to protect me which resulted in him beating my mother, strangling her to death and then raped her lifeless body. I screamed and cried as I watched this man beat my mother, strangling her, then raping her. I kept running to my mom and he’d push me away. Once he completed his acts of violence, he put my mothers’ body and me in the trunk of his car to drive to Long Beach. He then stopped at a neighborhood alley and dumped my mothers’ body by a dumpster and then drove a few blocks farther and dropped me off on a street corner and drove off.
There I stood late that night, a 3 year old little girl with no clothes on, no food to eat and nowhere to go… I have imagined on that night… thinking I know there was a guardian angel beside me, keeping watch over me as I roamed the streets that night. The next morning a man found me sitting on a street corner crying out for my mother and took me to the Long Beach Police station. It was at this time my mothers’ body was found and an investigation was started. My father was the first to be accused, as he had a history of domestic abuse. There he sat in the investigation office, being question and probed as devastation engulfed him as all he could think of or say to the police was “where is my daughter”? He couldn’t even begin to mourn the loss of his wife, he just kept thinking, what happened to my daughter, is she alive? It was a couple days later that my dad was watching channel 7 news and suddenly there I was. Rocking in a little chair at the Long Beach police station as the news reporter expressed their concern to find who I belonged to. That same day he read the local newspaper and saw an article with my picture in it, again expressing that they were trying to find who my parents were. Thankfully, through information given through a friend who knew where my mother was that night, the police found the man who killed her, and my dad was set free. Overwhelming evidence found in the man’s home and in his car was enough to convict him and he was convicted to life in prison. As soon as my dad was able, he drove down to the Long Beach police station and took me home.
Because of the tragedy I endured, Social Services decided to investigate our family home to ensure we were living in a safe environment. With my dad’s history of being in and out of jail, his habits of drug addiction and alcoholism and no job at the time, they decided to take all of us out of the home and put us in custody of the state. My siblings were all separated and put into foster homes and I was put into an orphanage for about a year, then placed in my first foster home. One would’ve hoped that the worst was behind me and life would only get better, but the incidents didn’t stop there. When I was four I was put with a new family as my dad had moved and my social worker wanted me to be close to him for visitation. Through the course of my stay in this foster home, I was sexually abused and forced to have sex with my foster dad. It wasn’t long before my social worker suspected something was wrong and questioned me and I finally revealed my secret. I was scared, confused and didn’t understand why this was happening to me. My social worker assured it would never happen again and I was immediately removed from the home and sent to a new foster home. One after the other, I moved from foster home to foster home so that I could stay close to where my dad lived so he could continue his visitations. Although I was happy to be able to continue seeing my dad, the constant moving from foster home to foster home was wearing on me. I had this emotional baggage I had to carry of the sexual abuse I endured, yet no one to really talk about it or help me work through it. I just stuffed it inside and had to keep moving forward. I had so much confusion, fear and struggled with understanding what happened and why I couldn’t stop thinking about what was done to me. It was my silent turmoil I carried every day.
It wasn’t till I was eight years old that my dad finally decided he wanted to give me the one thing he felt he couldn’t and that was a real family with parents who could raise me in a healthy home. I’ll never forget that day as I went to visit my dad thinking it was just another visitation. He sat so quietly in the room, staring at me with loving eyes, deep with pain as he knew what he had to tell me. I had no idea what was to come, but was just enjoying my time with my daddy. Suddenly, the social worker came in and said our time was up and it was time for me to leave. My dad pleaded for a few more minutes and took me in his lap. He looked at me with such love, as his eyes began to tear up and he told me how much he loved me and how special I was and that some day he would find me. I didn’t understand what he was saying and felt confused as to what was about to happen. Just then the social worker came in and said it was time to leave. I was scared and confused and didn’t want to leave. I threw my arms around my dad as my heart began to beat wildly and I began to cry as my dad sat stiff with agony. My social worker came behind me and started to pull me away, but I wouldn’t let go. I cried and cried and begged and pleaded, “Daddy, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” It took all her strength to rip me from my dads arms as I screamed and kicked calling out to my dad, “please don’t leave me daddy, please don‘t leave.” My dad got up and walked away and I just watched as my heart sank deep in my stomach. I was told I would never see him again and it was time for me to find a new family.
I cried for several days after that day, crying out for my dad and wishing I could go back for just one more minute… but time passed and I soon began thinking about the new family that might take me in. I was almost nine years old when a family decided they wanted to take me in with the intention of adopting me. I was excited and hopeful that I finally would be a part of a stable home. My new parents seemed everything of a healthy, stable home. They were a Christian family with good morals and values and seemed to really love me and life seemed to finally take a positive turn. It was just after my 11th birthday that we went to court and the adoption was finalized. I now had a new mom and dad, a brother and a new name and identity. I was no longer Gabrielle Dianne Whitehurst; I was now Joanna Lynne Brown, a new person and a new beginning to a new life.
With all that I had endured in my early years, I remember thinking how lucky I was that I finally had a family, I finally belonged somewhere. Life couldn’t have been better. My parents were a nice church going family and introduced me to God. Right away, I was drawn to God and wanted to know him more. I went to Sunday school every Sunday and loved hearing the bible stories. I then made the decision to accept Jesus as my Savior. I was happy and excited about this new life I was living. Although I didn’t fully understand who God was, I kept hearing how He loved us so much and wanted to save us. I really thought that this was my new beginning, a new break and the worst was behind me. But, to my greatest disappointment, my life was far from getting better and life took a dark turn for the worse. Stress and anger loomed in our home and it was no longer about my brother and I being a part of a new home. We were the adopted kids trying to fit in with our own personalities and baggage yet to be healed. It wasn’t about being who I was anymore, it was about being who my mother saw fit for me to be, I was no longer Gabrielle and I needed to adhere to her expectations and be who she felt I needed to be. Expectations were high and I never felt like I measured up or was good enough. There was no time for me to be a kid and live life as all kids do… it was about being responsible, being an adult and taking on responsibility. I was controlled and manipulated and my feelings were never a consideration, it was all about them. I was told repeatedly how ugly I was, how dumb I was and how I would never measure up to anything and how lucky I was they were willing to adopt me. My self worth and value were already damaged, but the mental abuse I endured was taking away any last thread of self-worth I had. I remember lying in my bed at night, crying out to God… asking “Why God? If you are here to save us, then why am I being treated this way again? Why do my parents abuse me? Why do they hate me so much? Am I really that bad of a kid?” All I wanted was to fit in, belong somewhere, and once again I felt more isolated and alone than ever before. I felt so confused and was hurting so much inside but I had no one to talk to or share my grief. I just had to endure, endure and endure.
My mother and father lacked self control when they were angry and when it came time for discipline, it was beyond what my brother and I could handle. The physical abuse was harsh and beyond what was acceptable. There was never a question of being thrown around, given a bloody lip, heads banged into a wall, beaten with a belt or object so hard that we could hardly sit the next couple days or hair pulled so hard that handfuls fell out. This was a regular occurrence of how we were disciplined, treated as though we were the worst kids they could ever have taken in. My brother suffered the worst and I was always the one that had to go clean up the mess and comfort him as he cried from pain. We only had each other and I decided early on I had to be strong no matter what and be there for my brother and be his strength. My feelings never mattered anyway, so I stuffed my pain deep inside and put on an empty smile and did everything I could be the adult that was expected, even though I was still a child, I had no time to waste, I had to take care of my brother.
When I reached sixth grade, life was a mere existence. I began to go through puberty, my body changing and suddenly I became the object of my dad’s desire. Soon secrets began and the sexual abuse started and continued through till the summer before my senior year in high school. We were the perfect family on the outside, at church and through family eyes; my parents could do no wrong – they were the perfect parents. But behind closed doors it was a whole different reality that my brother and I knew and lived on a daily basis. It was not until the summer before my senior year in high school that I was confronted by my grandma about what was going on with my dad and I, as she had noticed things that didn’t seem right. I was so overwhelmed with secrets that I blurted it all out and confessed everything to her. I was relieved and felt a load lifted as I told her the details of what had been happening. She promised me she wouldn’t say anything and told me the next time he tried to go to my room, to tell her. Before I knew it, in a matter of a couple of days I was sitting at the dinner table with no clue as what was about to happen.
My mom finally broke the silence and began questioning me about what I accused my dad of. My heart sank and fear engulfed me as I looked at her as I spoke, crying with intimidation as my dad stared at me with hate. I told her everything and before I could utter another word, he began to speak, denying everything. Called me a liar and trouble maker and said I was pathetic to make up such lies to get attention. I began to cry so hard I could barely breathe as I knew it was all true and how could I make my mom understand the truth. To my dismay, she coyly stated she didn’t believe me and that she supported my dad fully and that I was no good and they were so disappointed that I was their daughter. I was threatened that if I told anyone they would take me back to the state so that another family could deal with me as they wouldn’t want me any more. I was so empty of self esteem and worth that I believed their threats and silenced my words. For two months, I was nothing in my home, I didn’t exist and no one uttered a word to me. Each day, I would try to talk to my mom and dad and each time they ignored me and wouldn’t even give me a glance. I would tell them I loved them, and they would just stare off as if they heard nothing and I would run to my room and cry. The pain was unbearable and I just didn’t feel like I could go on another day. To live in a home with a mother, father, grandmother and brother; and yet feel so empty and alone was a reality painful to endure. I begged God to allow someone to kidnap me, or that I would get hit by a car or something tragic so I would die and wouldn’t have to live another day. I was so desperate and the pain was beyond what I could handle. I had no one to turn to, no one to confide in, and left to deal with it alone.
After those couple months, I told my mom that I had lied about my dad, knowing deep down that it was all true; I couldn’t bear to go on living this way. To my parent’s relief, they said they forgave me and began speaking to me again, but life was far from better… I agonized to get up every day, trying to put on the perfect act that everything was ok and nothing happened. I prayed and prayed during my senior year asking God to please remove me from my home and miraculously one day my mom agreed for me to move in with my best friend and finish my senior year living with them. I couldn’t believe my luck and was relieved that I was finally free. It was after that year that I was determined to make it on my own, no matter how hard I struggled, I would never go back. And with God’s unending grace and mercy I survived and lived through the years that have brought me to today.
I won’t say that I didn’t suffer anger and resentment, because I did. But when I was 23 years old I decided that I didn’t want to hold onto those feelings anymore and so began a journey of healing and forgiveness. It wasn’t easy to forgive my parents, but with a lot of prayer and God’s strength, I let go and forgave my parents and made a vow that I would love my parents with all my heart and be the example to them that they weren’t to me. That I would be in their lives and support them and care for them as I knew it was the most healing thing I could do for myself. It wasn’t about revenge, it was about showing my parents how much I always loved them and that despite their mistakes, I still saw the individuals they were and loved them anyway and would never stop loving them because love heals all wounds and restores the broken. It hasn’t been easy, but it has paid off. Someone once asked me how I could forgive my parents and still have a relationship with them after all they have done, and how I could be so positive and loving after everything I endured. I told them it was so the power of God could be seen through my healing. Like the story of the blind man that was healed, God said that he was not blind because of some past sins of his fathers; it was so the power of God could be seen in his healing. And that is what I truly believe has been the reasons behind all that I have been handed in my life. I believe God knew I would be able to endure and rise above how the enemy wanted to destroy my life. God knew I had the ability to heal, forgive and would able to be used by Him to bring a message of hope to others who have suffered as I did. I believe God gave me a very special gift, the gift of unconditional love in a way that most people don’t understand. I’m not saying I’m perfect or that I don’t make mistakes and struggle as everyone else does, but I know I have a very unique ability to love others. As I said before, I want to love with all I have. Because of the abuse I endured throughout my childhood, I made a promise to myself to always be encouraging to others, do selfless acts of kindness to show love and always keep my heart open to whomever God brings across my path so that I could share a piece of my heart with them so they can have hope and believe in themselves and know how incredible they are and how special they are no matter what has happened to them.
You see, life is never fair and we face many trials throughout our lives. And sometimes we face harsh consequences from other people’s behavior, choices and actions. But we have the freedom to not allow those experiences to control us and cripple us from having a life filled with joy and happiness. We need to put our heads up high and look life straight ahead and live with determination. For life doesn’t stop for you to pick yourself up and start over, it keeps going with or without you. So you have to choose to keep living and moving forward to what lies ahead with hope for a brighter tomorrow.
I may not have had a childhood to brag about, but I have a Savior who heals, restores and transforms lives back into wholeness. I love a God who loves me passionately and cares about my heart, my emotions, my life and wants to walk beside me through all the I experience. If Christ can die on the cross and suffer the greatest pain to save me, then I am worthy to share of my suffering to others to show them that there is a God who understands and can save them. I believe I have gained some valuable life lessons to offer to others so they can believe they too can have hope, they too can heal and they too can have the life they deserve. And so with each day, I look for opportunities to make someone smile, do something special just because and offer a hug for love is what drives me each day and I couldn’t imagine my life without it.
written 7/15/00
To reach Joanna Brown, please write to info@justicenow.tv
July 31st, 2009 at 12:08 am
Thanks so much for sharing your story! What a testimony of God’s restoration and healing power in your life.