The Boy Who Almost Broke My Heart [On Hold]

Intermission

This is a non-fiction essay in the middle of a fictional autobiography.

I really was a foster kid once upon a long time ago. While Kelsey's story is not mine, we certainly share some experiences.  And it depresses me very much that some things about the US foster system remain utterly and consistently broken. 

Here's an article about a young woman who was raped and who was coerced into recanting her rape report to the police. Then they prosecuted her for making a false report. And all the while, that rapist (because she actually was raped) was out there raping other women.

This story has a seemingly happy ending-- the rapist was eventually caught. The various authorities eventually noticed the similarities in this young woman's story and other incidents. The police even found a picture of her taken by the rapist, corroborating what she had told them.  The young woman's conviction for supposedly making a false report was expunged.

The story behind the story is that of a foster kid who was switched from home to home with little regard for her well-being. It's a story of "nice" foster moms who should have been there for her in her time of need but not only weren't. Instead, they made her situation worse. It's the story of a young woman who wasn't an "easy" kid in her later years-- because of a system that had torn her to shreds when it was supposed to be protecting her.

The story behind the story is the story of how foster care damages people and then spits them out into poverty, semi-homelessness, and abuse as soon as they "age out" of the system. Although no woman in the US is safe from being accused of falsifying rape reports, young women like this one are especially vulnerable because they have literally nobody to lean upon. Nobody cares once the foster payments run out. And a lot of the time it feels like nobody ever will care again.

In many ways, I've lived a charmed life after foster care. I've got a great husband, two great kids, too many cats. I'm not a "rags to riches story", but I am an "alone to family" story. But still, this is it. This is my family. Husband, kids, pets. There are no aunts, cousins, etc. There's just us. And so while I've conquered a lot of my abandonment issues at this late age, I'm always aware of how tiny my little bubble of "family" really is. This is why former foster kids put ads on Craigslist to "rent" a family for a holiday meal.

There but for the grace of the Universe go I.

Click on the external linky thing for the story.

Here's the address if you need to manually type it in. 

propublica.org/article/false-rape-accusations-an-unbelievable-story