Life cannot be lived without loss. We know that, but many of us don’t have to think about the implications of that truism on a daily basis until circumstances, either within or beyond our control, compel us to attend to it. If, for example, we are fired or choose new employment—whether with anxiety or excitement—we face the loss of familiar routines and co-workers and must find ways of adjusting to our changed condition.

Some losses seem significant in the moment, and then fade or lose meaning with time. Parents may mourn the loss of one phase of childhood as they prepare for their child’s first day of school; there will be only one very first day, but the beginning or end of every subsequent school year means that another phase of childhood is left behind. These, like many losses, will likely shed their noteworthy status and be taken in stride as just one more marker of the passage of time.

This is the opening of the introduction to Relational Treatment of Trauma, released this week by Routledge. I am quite honored to have been given the opportunity to create this volume, which brings together papers and book chapters that I have written over a number of years. Writing is for me, as for so many, an interesting and maddening process. Reviewing years of my own writing was also an interesting, though quite different, process and, happily, not nearly so maddening as approaching a blank sheet of paper or computer screen, waiting to be filled with the words that sometimes easily tumbled from my mind and sometimes could be pried loose only with great difficulty.

This book about loss and hope centers on foster children and those who care for them—a community that knows all too well the painful vagaries of loss. Those in and around foster care also know the power of hope in keeping organizations, as well as individuals from plunging into despair.

Uncertainty virtually defines life in foster care. It interferes dramatically with mourning, yet paradoxically helps to keep hope alive. Uncertain loss permeates every aspect of foster care, and anyone who comes into contact with a foster child or teen—from caseworkers, attorneys, and teachers to judges, therapists and community volunteers—will come to know more than they wish to know about uncertainty and unpredictability. Everyone including the adults responsible for their care and the peers who befriend them will be affected–some more and some less—by the instabilities of life in foster care.

I enjoyed creating this book, both the process of writing the individual pieces and the process of trying to make them come alive as a coherent work.

My personal hope is that in the chapters in this volume you will come to a deeper appreciation of the inexorable connection, despite a tidal wave of failures, between determined, creative thought and the capacity to hope. This volume spans my thinking and writing about loss, anxiety, trauma, and hope. Some of the chapters focus on the therapeutic process—when it works and when it doesn’t, including clinical work with children who have suffered emotional, physical, or sexual abuse yet remained with their family of origin. Other chapters reflect on the psychological meanings and constructs that emerge from life that includes trauma, whether from abuse or the chronic loss that marks life in foster care. Some chapters include clinical material that illustrates the protective nature of functional families, in contrast to the personal and systemic consequences of relationships that harm or fail to protect children.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you also take the time to read the book, I would very appreciate hearing your comments. 

By Toni Heineman

Over the course of National Foster Care Month, I’ve written about the impact of trauma on healthy development in infants, toddlers, and school-age children, noting that the effects can occur in any or all domains of physical, cognitive, emotional, and social development.  I’ve also made the point that any caring adult in a child’s life – teacher, coach, tutor, mentor, or volunteer – can be a healer. At A Home Within, we put it simply: relationships matter because relationships heal.

This week I want to focus on adolescence, a developmental period that actually goes on over many years, from the physical and cognitive changes during the early- and middle-teen years, to the neurological consolidation that can take place well into the mid-20s.

Now, whether confronting social pressures from bullying to dating, bearing up under tremendous academic pressure, or simply adapting to a world that now treats them as adults, many youth are navigating the arenas of family, school, and workplace simultaneously, all while their bodies and brains are undergoing the most intense period of rapid developmental change after early childhood. We all know about the physical changes that happen during the teen years, but late adolescence/early adulthood is also a period of cognitive transformation as ongoing neurological development consolidates the pre-frontal cortex to promote complex decision-making, including risk-assessment.  Because the physical changes outpace the cognitive changes during early and middle adolescence, we see many teens engage in risk-taking behaviors without fully considering the consequences of these choices.  For young people with a history of trauma, of course, the risks increase.  Sexually transmitted diseases, early parenting, anxiety, depression, substance abuse, and self-harm all occur more frequently in adolescents whose early lives were marked by trauma.

All adolescents take risks; traumatized adolescents take more negative (i.e., dangerous) risks in more habitual ways.  For example, they might crave more sexual contact because it reassures them emotionally, but abandonment fears have them so insecure about being left that they don’t ask their partners to use protection.  They might have spent years in a kind of numb, dissociated state that leaves them craving physical thrills, so they ride a skateboard without a helmet late at night, weaving through traffic on a busy street.  They might be so distracted at school, where they have trouble concentrating because of anxiety, that they start drinking in the mornings to calm down.  For adolescents, the stakes are high because their behavioral choices can have significant consequences, and  as they approach adulthood, the world around them expects them to assume increasing responsibilities.  As I’ve maintained, though, every adult who comes into regular contact with a traumatized teen has the opportunity to use that relationship develop to promote healing and healthy development.

Shana, a 20 year-old young woman, waited tables at a busy café.  This was her third job in two months; she usually got fired because she showed up late for her shifts.  Shana had a hard time sleeping, and, unsurprisingly, a hard time waking up. When she got a message from Holly, her boss, who said she wanted to talk to Shana about “what’s going on,” Shana was sure she was going to be fired again, so she just didn’t go into work.  On the following Friday, she went to the cafe to pick up her paycheck, Holly asked her to come into her office.  

“Are you quitting?” she asked Shana. 

“I figured you were firing me.”

Holly explained that she had called because she was worried about Shana, not because she was planning on firing her.   

“Shana, you’re a good worker – when you’re here.  I want you to be able to keep this job for as along as you want it, and I want to be able to give you a good reference when it’s time for you to look for a different job.  But if you quit without giving any notice, or if you keep showing up late, I can’t do that.  If you let me know why you’re having trouble getting to work on time, maybe I can help.”

Shana hadn’t ever thought about getting a reference from Holly; she’d never held a job for very long, and she’d certainly never received a reference from a previous employer before.  After Shana admitted to Holly that she’d had insomnia for most of her life, and that the doctor always told her it was because of anxiety, Holly switched her to the afternoon shift, and recommended a book her sister had used to help her relax.   

Six months later, Shana told Holly she was studying for her GED, and said she needed to change back to the morning shift because she wanted to meet with a math tutor who could only see her in the afternoons.  Holly asked about her sleep problems.         

“I know, right?  But I’m doing meditation at night before bed, and that really helps me  fall asleep. I’ve been waking up pretty early, too.  Can I just try it?  If I screw up again, I’ll go back to afternoons and find a different tutor.  Do you think that’s a good plan?”  

Shana was now thinking through her choices, and better able to plan for contingencies. She’d also approached Holly this time, and asked for her opinion.

Because they have trouble trusting, traumatized teens often have trouble asking for help. Adults may have to offer assistance many times over and be willing to be rebuffed many times before their help is accepted. But when the stakes are so high, the difference a trusted relationship makes can be enormous.

By Toni Heineman

May is Foster Care and Mental Health Awareness month, and in the past couple weeks, I’ve written about the impact of trauma on infants and on young children, and how trauma that occurs in the context of relationships can only be healed within healthy relationships. At A Home Within, we start conversations with the community with the simple mantra “Relationships Matter Because Relationships Heal.” It might seem like common sense, but when it comes to children who have experienced repeated trauma in their short lives, it can be hard to hold so simple an idea in mind. By definition, relationships occur over time, growing and gathering strength as they navigate ups and downs, challenges and triumphs. One of the insidious things about trauma, though, is that relationships – the very nexus of children’s social, emotional and behavioral development – are too often a source of confusion and challenge.

As infants grow to toddlers, and young children head to school, their connections with caring adults become ever more numerous and more diverse. Events such as starting school bring children into regular contact with the larger world. Friendships become increasingly important. Social skills outside of the family become the focus as friendships become more and more important.  Children in this age group also begin to compare themselves to other kids – to see how they “measure” up.  This is a critical time for children to develop confidence in all areas of life, especially socially.

As children enter the school-age years, they begin to show signs of a budding independence. This period of growth is also marked by the active pursuit of, and genuine appreciation for, new relationships. Parents, or primary caregivers, continue to be the most important people in the child’s life, but relationships with peers become increasingly important. In fact, the appearance of a “best friend” is frequently a feature of the school-age years. Other significant, and often defining, characteristics of this phase of development are children’s capacity to control their urges and conform to an appropriate standard of behavior without direct supervision. Collectively, this is known as self-regulation.

Children who have been traumatized see the world as a frightening and dangerous place. When childhood trauma is not resolved, this fundamental sense of fear and helplessness carries over into relationships. This often causes confusion about relationships in general.  Boundaries are often blurred due to the fact their personal boundaries were not honored. It is important for adults to notice when children need help and offer it without being asked and to continue to make offers even when help is rejected.  This can be difficult because traumatized children often do not send clear cues about whether they secretly want help or really want to be left alone.

Even though traumatized children often mistrust adults, it is important that they have ample opportunity to spend time, initially in small doses, with adults.  Teachers, coaches, mentors, and other adults in the lives of school age children all have opportunities to support their emotional development by engaging them in conversations, attending important school events, and creating interesting outings as demonstrations of interest and care.

When caring adults learn to recognize the signs of trauma and learn to respond in ways that promote healing, they are empowered to turn routine conversations into opportunities for healing. Consider just three simple examples:

• Traumatized children often don’t trust their intuitions.  It is important for them to learn to read and trust physical sensations as messages from their bodies. I can be very helpful for a trusted adult to talk with children about the possible reasons for a stomachache – whether it be the flu, easting too much or not enough, or feeling worried.  The more children become aware and can trust their bodies messages the more they will value their own physical well being.

• Traumatized children can become confused at the idea of down time.  Sitting quietly may trigger anxiety as if it is the calm before a storm.  Capturing a time when a child with a history of trauma is quiet and reinforcing quiet time not only provides comfort for a child but also demonstrates the usefulness of taking time to expand one’s sense of calm.  It is important for children to understand that their bodies need time to rest and relax and that this is something they can do to help themselves.

• School age children often engage in lengthy conversations about “accident” and “on purpose” in addition to “accidental-on-purpose.”  Adults can use these words to help children understand the care behind enforcing rules to protect their safety.  A deeper explanation by a trusted adult can help traumatized children understand what real accidents are and the hurtful nature of purposeful abuse which expands on notions of what good physical boundaries are and what are not.

Jared, a 10-year-old boy who witnessed domestic violence between his parents for years has finally been removed from his home and lives with his grandmother whose first language is not English.  She and Jared are unable to discuss much about his experience, though she can care for his basic needs and is kind to him.  At school Jared often picks fights with other kids when he feels left out or ignored.  Casual glances or curious stares from other children are often misinterpreted, leaving him feeling he has no friends at school or in the neighborhood. Jared’s heightened sensitivity to social cues and his inability to use words rather than act out suggests his emotional development has been interrupted.

When Jared’s teacher recognized that recess was the most emotionally charged part of the day for him, she helped him anticipate and prepare for a potentially difficult situation. Jared’s teacher began “check ins” with him each day before recess. She helped him to think about how he was feeling before he got to the playground. She learned that he was often frightened and worried that the other kids wouldn’t let him play with them. With that information she was able to help Jared and Emile, another somewhat shy and socially awkward child, begin playing together. After several weeks she and Jared decided that weekly check-ins would be enough. The check ins allowed him to begin to recognize and talk about his feelings, which will eventually help him to develop a broader emotional vocabulary, more self-regulation and confidence. In the meantime, the teacher created an area of emotional safety by pairing Jared with Emile.

Jared’s story illustrates how a teacher can use an understanding of trauma to frame her understanding of behavior and use an intentionally relationship-based strategy to address both his internal and social needs. As Jared bonds with Emile and experiences recess as a time of fun and friendship, the anxiety and conflict that originally cued his teacher can be expected to decline, freeing him to enjoy and benefit from recess, developing self-confidence and skills in problem solving, planning, cooperation, and exploration, not to mention just having fun.

Every day in the life of a school-age child is filled with learning, growth, and development. We all know that every child is unique, and the pervasive effects of trauma can make the needs of each equally unique. Learning to recognize and understand trauma allows us to turn day-to-day challenges into opportunities for healing as well.

By Toni Heineman

Last week, to kick off Foster Care and Mental Health Awareness month, I wrote about the impact of trauma on infants like Janelle, and how trauma that occurs in the context of relationships can only be healed through relationships. For each of the remaining weeks this month, I’ll offer perspectives on trauma and healing across three other developmental stages: this week, toddlerhood and early childhood; next week, school-age children; and, at the end of the month, I’ll write about trauma among teens and young adults.

The extraordinarily rapid physical and neurological development of babies continues right into toddlerhood. Children use their bodies to actively explore the world. They roll balls, push strollers, walk along walls, and jump from steps. As they move and manipulate their bodies in relation to their physical surroundings, they begin to learn how things work. Children also watch the people around them, imitating and copying their actions, for example, pretending to make dinner, feed the baby, or hammer a nail.

Verbal comprehension and expression develop seemingly overnight at this age. Toddlers often begin speaking in single words, progressing to two- and three-word sentences. As they learn that they can use words to influence people, they begin to ask for what they want and express their feelings. With these new physical and verbal abilities, children can begin to exercise restraint and collaborate with adults regarding simple rules.

Yet emotional difficulties that result from trauma, like depression and anxiety, can interfere with emotional and social development, affecting relationships with other children and adults; they can also interfere with cognitive functions such as the ability to focus and embed new memories, both of which can interfere with learning. For example, a traumatized child who is preoccupied with disturbing memories will be restless and easily distracted while a caregiver is reading aloud. Unlike her non-traumatized peers, she will have a hard time sitting still, which can be annoying or distracting to others, and she’ll have a harder time following the story, which makes her less likely than the other children to retain any new vocabulary the story offered.

As they get older, children begin to show more interest in making friends. They move from playing next to each other to playing with each other. They develop particular interests, and bond with others who share them. Spending time with other children becomes fun, and children seek out favorites. While most children become interested in being around large groups of kids, toddlers and preschoolers suffering from trauma may be easily over-stimulated by other children, particularly when the play becomes boisterous or when there are several (or more) children involved. They will likely need adults’ help in learning how to initiate and sustain play with other kids,.

Traumatized children are often confused or unaware of their own feelings, both in terms of the signals they receive from their bodies and their emotions. A traumatized child might become suddenly impatient with another child and lash out when she is actually just hungry; or she has a harder time sharing toys; or she becomes possessive of the adults at the daycare center she attends. She may become overstimulated by too many toys, and overwhelmed by too many choices. Trauma has an extraordinarily powerful effect on neurological functioning,. Increased levels of stress hormones in the brain keep the body primed to take action (the “fight or flight” response); an observer might witness either increased aggressive behavior or a withdrawn child who appears very flat or numb. In either case, other children may be disinclined to seek out such a child for play

The adults who were supposed to care for children who’ve been traumatized have often ignored or criticized the children’s feelings; these children to believe that their feelings don’t matter, or even that their feelings led to bad things happening These children need a lot of help from both in naming their feelings and in learning that feelings aren’t dangerous, even unpleasant ones. Young children who have suffered trauma may be particularly emotionally sensitive, with rapid and intense shifts in mood. This may require that caregivers respond frequently to their distress and spend significantly more time soothing them than they would with other children.

Alberto hasn’t told his foster parents why, but he is very scared of mice. He won’t go into a room unless someone looks inside first and checks for mice. If he thinks he sees a mouse, Alberto will usually scream and cry, and can’t be calmed down. Bedtime can be difficult because he’s worried about the mice appearing when everyone’s asleep. Alberto will stay awake for hours until he finally passes out, exhausted. He has just started preschool, which has not been going well. The teachers have called home several times because Alberto became scared, and they don’t know what to do to help him

It’s likely that Alberto believes that if he can avoid mice, he can avoid being scared. Because feeling scared at times is an inevitable part of life, Alberto needs help learning how to manage feeling afraid. .

Alberto’s foster parents, Luis and Marta, start by telling him that mice are not so scary. They read him stories about how helpful mice can be, such as the tale of the mouse who pulled the thorn from the lion’s paw. When Alberto thinks he spots a mouse, they pick him up and tell him he is safe. Once he calms down a bit, they ask him if the mouse he saw might be a nice mouse who is there to help. Together, Luis and Marta look around with Alberto to see if they can find the mouse and ask him if he’s a nice mouse. They also have a meeting with the preschool so that his teachers will also know to help Alberto identify if mice are friendly and helpful.

While it’s important that Luis and Marta give Alberto a different idea about mice that he can draw on, it’s also important that they don’t dismiss his fear. They pick him up when he gets scared, and assure him that he is safe and not alone. Coordinating this approach with the preschool allows his teachers to reinforce the message that scary things can be approached together with others, and might not even be that scary after all.

Luis and Marta have found a way to respond to Alberto’s fear that soothes his anxiety, reinforces his ability to learn about and manage his feelings, and supports the development of their own bond with him. The very process of addressing his fear in this way can thus have long-term effects. At the heart of our work at A Home Within and Fostering Relationships is the understanding that relationships matterbecause relationships heal. For caregivers and other adults supporting traumatized toddlers and young children in their early experiences of the world, simply remembering the power of relationships is an essential first step…

By Toni Heineman

Photo courtesy of s.bellevuecollege.edu

Child psychologist with a little girl

During the month of March we are invited to honor social workers, many of whom are the lynchpins of the foster care system—caseworkers. These are the people who have the day-to-day responsibility for ensuring the safety and well-being of children who have come to the attention of the child welfare system. Most children enter foster care because of neglect—some because of abuse—physical and/or sexual. They are injured, frightened, and vulnerable children who need the protective care of adults.  The responsibility for creating permanency for these children—whether through reunification with their parents, adoption, or guardianship—falls to the caseworkers.

It would seem that we would want the people we entrust with this level of responsibility to be trained and well-informed. However, less than 30% of child welfare workers have either a Bachelor’s or Master’s degree in social work and over 80% of states have no requirement for professional credentials for caseworkers (CWLA, 1999). In practical terms, this means that we are asking people without relevant education or training to provide services and support to children and families during periods of extreme distress and upheaval.

The stress of attempting to perform well without adequate education or preparation is compounded by caseloads that often far exceed the Child Welfare League of America’s recommended 12-15 cases per worker. Imagine having responsibility for more than 100 children who have been removed from their families. In some instances, a worker might have to drive several hours to make the recommended monthly visit to a child. High caseloads significantly impinge on a worker’s capacity to spend the time necessary to get to know each family and arrange for the services that would give them the best chance of recovery and reunification. Too much work and not enough time also result in delays in the court hearings necessary to keep a case on track for a permanent plan for a child.

It is most unfortunate, but hardly surprising, that the rate of staff turnover in child welfare ranges between 20% and 40% annually, draining precious financial resources that could be used more effectively to retain and support staff with enhanced training  (American Public Human Services Association [APHSA], 2001, 2005; GAO, 2003).  Of course, high staff turnover drains not only financial resources, but human resources, as well. The morale of the workers left behind drops and, if they have to cover additional cases, the quality of their work suffers. Supervisors must keep their attention focused on overseeing and teaching the basics to new workers rather than enjoying the satisfaction of helping more experienced caseworkers hone their skills.

Of course, when a caseworker leaves, every child and family on her caseload suffers the disruption of another relationship. Sometimes caseworkers take or make the time to say goodbye, and sometimes they are so emotionally depleted that they just disappear, leaving those they worked with and cared for wondering and perhaps worrying about what happened.

Too often caseworkers shoulder the blame for the ills that beset the child welfare system. It is important that we remember the very traumatic scenes they witness every day, the very difficult challenges the children on their caseloads present, and the very hard work they do to try to make things better for families. We owe them our respect and heartfelt thanks.

By Toni Heineman

The news of the relationship between foster care and the sex trade has made its way to the Capitol. In recent testimony before the House Ways and Means Committee former foster child, Withelma “T” Ortiz Walker Pettigrew, cogently outlined the multiple ways in which the structure and function of the child welfare system create a smooth pathway from foster care to the sex trade.
Not least of these is the fact that foster children generate income for the homes in which they reside. Whether the money that follows a foster child is sufficient to cover the costs of her stay in the foster home is another question for another time. The fact is that adults are paid to care for foster children.

As Pettigrew points out, from the perspective of the child, there may not be a significant difference between being the source of income for a foster parent and the source of income for a pimp. When children’s worth is measured in dollars by their caregivers they have no other way of gauging self-worth.
Consequently, many foster children grow up without an inherent sense that they are worthy of care, respect, and unconditional love—period—the end.

Foster children who are valued for the money attached to them by the child welfare system are, fundamentally, interchangeable. Thankfully there are many foster parents who care much about the children and less about the money, but for those who take in children primarily for financial reasons, keeping the designated beds filled matters much more than who is occupying them or for how long. In these cases, children learn that their best strategy may be just to “shut up,” in the hope that they will at least keep the roof over their heads.

Unlike children raised in their biological families, there may be no single person in the life of a foster child who is not paid to care for her—no adults who are there just because they care. When foster youth do encounter adults who want to have a relationship with them without the strings of money attached they are often terrified of what that means. Relationships based on care alone leave the parties vulnerable to loss in a way that financially supported relationships do not. It happens often that, just when foster youth are feeling closer to their therapist, they announce: “You don’t care about me. You’re just seeing me for the money.” When therapists who are volunteering through A Home Within respond, “No. I don’t get paid for this. I do it because I care,” they
send a powerful message to young people who have come to see themselves as no more than a meal ticket for foster parents, caseworkers, attorneys, tutors and coaches—in short, an entire system of adults who benefit financially from their misfortune.

Pettigrew ends her testimony with a plea for a system that would appoint “one person who will follow them throughout placement changes whether it be a CASA or a mentor, these youth should have a constant ally throughout their time in care and this person should also be available whether or not a youth is in placement.” We couldn’t agree more. The relationships with adults who volunteer with foster youth are not constrained by finances or placement changes. The therapists who offer weekly pro bono psychotherapy through A Home Within pledge
to maintain the relationship “for as long as it takes.” Many of the children and youth have stayed in touch with their therapists for over ten years, long after the weekly therapy drew to a close.

All children need at least one stable relationship with a caring adult.
In every community there is a need for CASAs, who can advocate for foster youth, and for mentors who can help them navigate the world of school or sports or work, and for therapists who can help them reflect on their experiences and learn about themselves.

By Toni Heineman

“Never talk to strangers.” This important lesson in personal safety often involves a period of confusion and anxiety as young children try to understand who is a stranger and why it’s okay to talk to some strangers and not others. From the point of view of a child who has just been admonished not to talk to strangers, parents who casually chat with the person next to them in the grocery line or strike up a conversation with unknown parent at a playground are behaving quite recklessly, indeed. Eventually, by observing their parents’ behavior, children learn that it’s usually acceptable to chat with someone at a store or the playground, but not advisable to leave the premises with that person.

Lessons in personal safety do not come so easily to foster children, who, rather than learning to protect themselves from strangers, learn that their very survival may depend on their interactions with strangers. They must talk with strangers on a routine basis. The person who removes a child from the care of a neglectful or abusive parent is a stranger who then delivers the child into the home and hands of yet another stranger, usually with reassurances that this unknown person will provide food, shelter, and emotional safety.

The chances are good that children will not stay in the first placement, but will be introduced to strangers many times over the course of their stay in foster care. On average, foster children will be in three placements, but many will live in a dozen or more homes.
Rather than having the time and opportunity to assess whether the new people will provide physical and emotional safety, these young children must quickly discover what they have to do in order to have their needs met. Do the new foster parents expect children to speak politely or is this a house in which you need to shout to get what you need? Sometimes other foster children will help them navigate this new emotional landscape, but many times they will have to fall back on their own resources to figure out how to survive.

When we place children in the homes of people they have never met, we give them the message that strangers can provide safety and security. Rather than help them learn to establish protective physical and psychological boundaries, we repeatedly expose them to situations in which instant closeness is the implicit expectation. Families are made up of very intimate relationships. When we drop a child into the midst of family dynamics he has two essential choices—to establish himself as the outsider—the one who doesn’t belong—or to try to become a part of this new group. The possibility of belonging is almost overwhelmingly seductive.

Foster children’s survival depends on learning to talk well and easily to strangers. These well-learned lessons make them vulnerable to those who promise to love and care for them. Because they have had to learn to say “yes” to the demands of so many strangers they have had little education about when they need to say “no” for their own protection.
This subtle but dangerous dynamic sets the stage for foster children’s falling prey to strangers who would use them for their own gain and, in so doing, abuse the minds, bodies, and trust of these children.

By Toni Heineman

People talk about the sex trade and sex trafficking. The problem is that it’s not sex that’s being sold—it’s people. Poor people. Young people. Poor young people. It should not surprise us that the most vulnerable among us are the most likely to fall prey to sex traffickers. Some of these are people who are so impoverished that they have nothing to sell except their bodies in the hope that they might have a bite of food in exchange for allowing themselves to be used. Others, as Nicolas Kristof describes, are children whose parents’ mental illness makes it impossible for them to protect their offspring. Some go so far as to use their children as a commodity to help support their own addictions.

Unfortunately, the group that makes up the largest percentage of children victimized by the sex trade comes from the foster care system.
These children are supposedly under the care and protection of the very government agencies that determined that they needed to be removed from their parents because of the abuse and/or neglect they suffered while in their custody. It is impossible to know how many children are exploited by sex traffickers, but estimates suggest that as many as 80% of them have been solicited directly from the child welfare system or have spent time in foster care during their childhood or adolescence.

Image courtesy of Jon Fife.

What makes these children so vulnerable? The odds are stacked against them. Pimps are smart about relationships—their livelihood depends on knowing how to get people to do their bidding. Foster kids are not smart about relationships—staying alive has often depended on learning how to please others. When a pimp offers a young girl or boy the promise of care and affection he has touched on the profound longing that sits deep in the heart and soul of most foster children. And yes, these are children, often barely into their teens.

Like all children, foster children need relationships with adults for care and protection. Unlike many children, they have never had a stable, lasting relationship with an adult who provided unconditional love.
Instead, their misbehavior or complaints to foster parents about food or house rules may have resulted in their being moved to another foster home and then to another and another. It’s not hard to understand how they come to believe that relationships last only if they please the other person, without regard to what is being asked of them.

Image courtesy of edenpictures.

These are disconnected kids, hungry for connections. Without the emotional intelligence to alert them to potential relational dangers, any show of interest or attention offers the possibility of a new beginning—a relationship that will finally fill the aching void created by too many disappointments and too many people who left them behind. Foster kids expect instability in the child welfare system. They know that caseworkers and foster parents come and go. They don’t look to those in the system for stability; indeed they have learned not to form attachments within the system.

Pimps know this. They know that the mere fact of their being outside the foster care system gives them an unfair advantage, making their professions of interest and affection seem all the more genuine. Foster kids don’t know that they are being sold a bill of goods and that they are about to be offered for sale.

By Toni Heineman