15JulAug05NoMoreVictims

NM NOMORE VICTIMS FOUNDLINGS

FIND

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FAMIILY

BY LINDA OWEN

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No More Victims is here to stop the pain.”

The NMVI program has reached over 400 children since its inception. Before founding the nonprofit organization, Gambrell was a Texas parole officer for a decade. In that job she observed children who were raped, beaten, and molested.

Some engaged in illegal activities and some dabbled in selfmutilation. But one moment 15 years ago had the most impact on her—perhaps because the victim was so tiny.

That day Gambrell was conducting a home visit in the projects.As she stood outside with her client, their conversation was interrupted by a loud commotion several buildings away. Investigating, Gambrel saw two police officers handcuffing a female. She was kicking and screaming, fighting with all her might in an attempt to prevent the police officers from placing her into the patrol car.An elderly woman was also standing outside, screaming at the officers. Beside her was a tiny, 2-year-old girl, barefoot and still in diapers. Crying and clinging to a policeman’s leg, she was pleading for them to let her mommy go. As the police officers placed the mother in the car and drove away, the grandmother slapped the girl to the ground and yelled at her,“Shut up! I have enough problems without you screaming!”Then she grabbed the little girl by the arm and dragged her up to the house, the toddler’s ribs scraping the steps, and slammed the door.

the tardy bell echoes through the halls of M. B. Smiley High School, Marilyn Gambrell approaches the front of the classroom to speak with the 42 students who have crowded into Room 2001. It’s a usual day at the Houston public school, and the room looks like any other classroom—desks, chalkboard, pencil sharpener—but this is no ordinary class.This is a place of refuge, not academics, and the only thing studied by the kids is themselves.

Every day these children of incarcerated parents meet with Gambrell for 50 minutes (during a regular class period), where they experience specialized emotional support.The extraordinary program, created by Gambrell, the founder of No More Victims, Inc. (NMVI), allows teens to discuss openly their feelings of anger, victimization, violence, suicide, trauma, and abuse.The goal is to stop the intergenerational cycle of crime and violence by counseling and caring for these neglected children who for the most part have never felt loved.

Kids like these have lousy odds.According to the Bureau of Justice, six out of 10 kids with a parent in jail will later end up in prison themselves.They are twice as likely as other children to experience abuse, display violent and disruptive behavior, attempt suicide, and get kicked out or drop out of school.

“They all come with so many wounds,” Gambrell says.

“But we teach that all of us count, that all of us are precious.

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MVI Gambrell still feels sick when she thinks about that day.

“Most haunting of all is the thought of what the grandmother might have done to the baby when she got her inside the apartment where no one could see,” Gambrell says.

That devastating thought haunted her for years, and the memory of what she had seen became the impetus for NMVI. Over time it became clear to Gambrell that she had to address the needs of the child who is left behind when the police car drives away with its mother or father.“It was critical that I do something,” she says.

In 1993 Gambrell founded No More Victims as an advocate agency for the children of incarcerated parents. At first there was little or no concern from the community, but she found a kindred spirit in Reginald Spivey, then an assistant principal at Smiley High School, where 70 percent of the students are economically disadvantaged and at least 40 percent have one or both parents in jail.The surrounding neighborhood, predominantly African-American, was notorious nationwide for being extremely volatile and violent, and the kids of convicts who lived there were the most wounded population among at-risk children. They desperately needed a support system for their emotional, physical, and academic needs. Spivey helped Gambrell set up her curriculum and recruit for the new program in school assemblies.

Twenty-four kids came to Gambrell’s class the first day.

They sat and stared at her with skeptical faces, curious about the white woman who was interested in kids from the ’hood.They were there, though, not only because they met the criteria of having a parent in prison but, most of all, because they had a need.They wanted a support group; they wanted to talk about the guilt and shame and the stigma of having a parent in prison.

One gang leader told her,“We figure you’ve got guts to come in here with kids like us, so we’re going to get down for you.” By the end of the year, two gang members had handed their bandanas over to Gambrell in class—and later two others ceremoniously burned theirs in a garbage can outside with their classmates watching.

“Several of those in the original class were on probation and already on their way to a prison life,” Gambrell remembers.

“That all changed.With mentoring, they went on to graduate —some to continue their education, some to go into the military and other respectable jobs.”

Arrests of kids in the program are not at all common.

Gambrell’s two-year follow-up studies show that not a single NMVI student has been arrested after graduation. Since the implementation of the support group,gang violence has declined 70 percent at the high school.Arrests on campus have dropped by 75 percent. Sixty percent of the kids in the program have raised their academic performance and aren’t skipping classes.

This year Gambrell’s classroom hosts about 50 students, all of whom come voluntarily to talk about their problems and their pain and to share their hopes and dreams of a better life. In Room 2001, teens openly discuss their hostility and their fears.Their collective history is dismal, even horrifying: stories of kids being shuffled from a parent to a grandmother to foster care, being left alone for days at a time, reconciling with a mother only to have her back in prison within a month, being beaten and raped, and dealing with teen pregnancy.

It is obvious that life is tougher for children whose parents are in jail. Gilley, 16, was raped by her stepfather from the time she was 5 until she was 11. Mac, 17, became involved in drugs when he was 9, while delivering them for his father, a dealer.

Alfred, 15, began sleeping under bridges rather than go home.

Danielle used to carry a switchblade in her sock because she was frequently bullied by a girls’ gang.Woody’s father, who has been locked up for various drug-related infractions for most of the boy’s life, is on parole and back home, but Woody finds it hard to trust him. (These are not the children’s real names.)

Gambrell tells her students,“Once you learn why you are hurting, then you can learn to stop hurting yourself, then… you can learn to stop hurting others.” Her efforts focus on prevention, intervention, and rehabilitation.Through her effort, the propensity for violent, abusive, and addictive behavior is

“We are family”: Kids who participate in the No More Victims program get a chance to choose another path than the one their parents took to prison.

Founder Marilyn Gambrell, center, serves as counselor, cheerleader, role model, and teacher along the way.

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reduced, thereby reducing crime and victimization.“Victimization breeds victimization. Healing breeds healing,” she says.

NMVI offers education, encouragement, and empowerment to these young people as they address issues such as parent-child relationships, addictions, prostitution, incarceration, and reintegration.At the end of class the only thing that seems to matter is that these neglected youth finally belong to something positive. Here they are accepted and encouraged to be all that God created them to be.A message printed in big, bold letters on the chalkboard says it best: “We Are Family.”

It is this family atmosphere that draws the teens out of gangs,according toVeronica Rogers,18,who graduated recently and became Gambrell’s administrative assistant.

“Kids join gangs because they’re looking for a family that loves them,”Veronica explains. “But at NMVI they find the real thing—and we are family.That’s why we stay on the rolls for life—and many of us stay to mentor the younger ones.”

Like many gang members,Veronica has a tattoo on her wrist, but hers says “NMVI” instead of a gang name.“It’s like joining a new gang,” she says,“but a positive one that doesn’t condone violence and negative behaviors.We wear the tattoo because NMVI saved our lives!”

Born a crack baby, her mother an addict and her father in prison,Veronica struggled with guilt and shame before attending NMVI. She cried a lot. She was rebellious and unhappy, unappreciative of the grandparents who were raising her.“I felt abandoned, that somehow things were my fault; I kept thinking if I had not been born then my father wouldn’t be in jail,” she remembers.

After joining the program,Veronica realized that she was not the only one with those feelings.“I found assurance and love there that I’d never felt anywhere,” she says.

Veronica was encouraged to try out for the dance team while she was in high school, and after she was chosen, NMVI raised money to pay her expenses for band trips. “NMVI changed my life,” she explains.“I want others to find what I found—and I’m going to do my best to make sure they find love and acceptance here.”

Veronica and others like her have “found their voice” through the venting sessions. Now, every month, the older kids go with Gambrell into several of Houston’s correctional facilities to give the parents there some straight talk about life for their kids back home.They want the prisoners to know how the children who have been left behind feel—and prepare them for healthy family relationships when they are released.Although they are not speaking to their own parents, the experience is therapeutic.

Workshops and support services offered at the agency office, which is within walking distance of the school, promote

mental health and quality of life for parents, guardians, parolees, and their children. Bilingual sessions deal with parenting skills, delinquent child support, surviving divorce, substance abuse, coping with anger, empowerment through reading, and job readiness.The program also feeds the kids and their siblings, provides school supplies, and is on call 24 hours a day.

“Every day they struggle with demons,” Gambrell says.

“If Americans would open their eyes, they would be astonished. It’s surprising how many people are unaware of these kids’ pain.We as a society must first acknowledge that they even exist and then take the responsibility to address their needs and issues.They’re going to be incarcerated if we don’t step up.”

The program is funded through grants and private donations. It has also been recognized by several national magazines, and the Lifetime Network is making a TV movie about Gambrell and her special class.

“Hopefully this will make people more conscious of the need to break the cycle of negative parenting and intergenerational incarceration,” says Gambrell. “Many people think because of the age of the children (14 to19) that it’s too late to have any impact to prevent criminal and violent behavior on their part. But we have proof of what love and support will do.

By consistency and commitment and allowing children to tell us their needs and their heartaches, our entire country is tremendously and positively impacted.”

This is the message that Gambrell and her students take into the churches. Once a month she takes a group of 20+ kids to church. Besides spiritual strengthening, these teens, still struggling with self-esteem issues, find an acceptance among Christians that facilitates their progress. Often a few of them will speak about the NMVI program. One 16-yearold, Freddy, who is quick to evangelize among his peers, has been nicknamed “The Preacher” because he has been the guest speaker in several congregations.

Whenever Gambrell remembers the toddler that inspired NMVI, she wishes she could tell her that somebody did care about her—and the impact of that memory ended up being the energy that pushed for NMVI. Where is that little girl today? “She may be in the No More Victims Program at Smiley High School,” Gambrell ponders, “but I’ll really never know.” To that heartbroken toddler Gambrell and 400 other children owe their undying gratitude, for that brave little toddler inspired a program that is changing lives. ■ For more information,go to http://nmvi.org,call 713-807-8287, or email nmvi@mailev1.

Linda Owen is a freelance writer in San Antonio,Tex.

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