Adoptee for Destruction

It’s not often now that I read something in the newspaper that has me immediately rushing to the bloggex machine. Particularly not things in the hysterical, menstrual rag that The Telegraph has become these days.

This, though, had me quite besides myself with sadness, anger and the ever more common thought “well, what the fuck did you expect?”

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My ten-year-old son was playing happily with my elderly aunt recently, until she jokingly tapped him on the arm for being cheeky. His face changed, his eyes darkened and he raised his hand to her – not in play but in threat. “He seemed so angry,” she said to me afterwards, “I felt quite scared.”

I am the mother of an angry son. He feels he was “born bad”. Sometimes he becomes so upset at life that he hits out – at himself, at other children, at the world. His former headmaster said he had “no empathy”. As a result, he’s not yet managed to form friendships: other children feel he might lash out at them. He might.

People have asked me if I’m scared that he’ll hit me. As puberty approaches, and he will very soon be bigger and certainly much stronger than me, the answer is, “if I get this wrong, possibly, one day, yes.” I’ve a big job on my hands. 

Well, this sounds terrible for all concerned. What could have precipitated such a state of affairs?

I adopted my son at the age of four as a single parent.

Wait, what? A single woman adopted a son? Just how could that NOT end well?

He was the product of a very violent home and was hospitalized at the age of two after a brutal attack at the hands of a parent. Social services removed him but what he saw and suffered in the early years of his life has affected him badly.

Another child brought into the world in far from perfect circumstances, because it’s a woman’s government-supported right to drop a consequence-free child everytime some bad boy buys her a Bacardi Breezer.

And did you spot the ‘person of no appearance’ weasel words?

a brutal attack at the hands of a parent

This is classic. You can be damned sure that if the child’s father was the brutal attacker, they would have said so.

But no matter, because here comes Madeline Jones (twitter handle @instantmummy) with her Good Intentions to adopt the child, who is in turn willingly given up to her by a social services department that thinks that a child doesn’t need a father, and that a FishBicycleWoman can cope alone with a terribly traumatised child. Because a woman CAREs and FEELs and can do anything, and who needs a father when the Government can give you everything you and the child will need?

This is her Twitter bio:

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No indicators at all here that the adoptive mother is a narcissist that adopted for the sole reason of giving her a purpose in life, having squandered her chance to settle down with a husband and raise a family due to her career being more important in her fertile years. Just get a cat, for fuck’s sake.

And I suppose we must give her the benefit of the doubt that her career was in one of those high-flying city jobs where you can accrue millions of pounds in a few years, then retire to pursue your passions. And not that she (rightly) assumed that the government would be a handy source of funds and facilities in the years to come.

It would have been unthinkable, of course, for this child to have been adopted by, say, a couple that smokes cigarettes, or a couple who support UKIP. But a single woman with feels and cares and good intentions and a munificent government? No problemo.

If further evidence were needed that Madeline Jones is a delusional fuckwit who drank the FishBicycle koolaid, she has (per the link in her twitter bio) written before about her surprise(!) that “adopting a child alone is tougher than I ever imagined“. In that article, she writes:

I was a successful, single, career woman with a well-used passport. Life was good but since I was a child I had always wanted to be a mother – and adopting had always appealed. While there was no biological reason that I knew of which meant that I should not have had my own birth child, I was always drawn to helping disadvantaged children.

I worked as a mentor to troubled teenagers alongside my full time job as a marketing manager and as my own sibling had been adopted a family created by adoption seemed quite normal for me. I’d always hoped I’d find a life partner, but I simply never met The One and as my 40th birthday came and went, I realised time was running out for me if I wanted to become an adoptive mother.

Seeing a poster calling for would-be parents, I called Adoption Services and the ball started to roll.

Now, wait a moment, she knows what you’re going to say… here comes the self-justification:

Being single was not the barrier I thought and the number of single female adopters is now about 8-9% according to the Department for Education. For many, single adopters are welcome because many of the 2,810 children currently needing adoption in the UK come with severe difficulties. In 1969 psychologist John Bowlby began publishing his seminal works on attachment and the bond between mother and child.

The expectation that our parents are there to love us and care for us and keep us safe is the building block of life. For many of the children in the care system, that secure base has been smashed, leaving them rejected and scared. For these children, a single parent family can actually be an advantage, as they can offer the intense one to one attention which parenting a child like this requires.

Isn’t this the argument for why children should be raised by a stay-at-home mum as part of a nuclear family?

Of course she makes a straw man argument, because Bowlby’s research never suggested that a single parent is the answer to the problem of traumatised children, but that is by the by, and the statistical predictors for life chances of the children of single parents are beyond doubt.

There are plenty more threads to pull at in this story, but they all come back to the same thing. Female empowerment, and all that is sacrificed at its altar. In this case a brutalised and unwanted boy, passed from pillar to post and into the hands of a well-meaning idiot, who will almost certainly end up in prison, leaving a trail of broken property and people in his wake.  Because of dogmatic beliefs, a tissue of wicked lies, with appalling and inevitable consequences that will be externalised onto society.

If the boy really hits the bigtime, he will one day be held up as the poster child for toxic masculinity, and we’ll all furrow our brows and wonder what the hell is wrong with men, and what men can do to be ‘better’.

And I suppose that the days when a period in the armed forced could have imbued him with a positive masculinity, built on determination, stoicism and self-respect are ancient history.

I’ll be honest, I no longer see an answer to these problems that our society seems to delight in contriving. The prospect of preventing them from happening in the first place is long since departed, and I take no comfort from the fact that my pockets will continue to be emptied to pay for the consequences of these ghastly indulgences.

Kill ’em all and let God sort it out.



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