Dirty Little Secret

So I see on the news that they have positively identified the bones of Caylee Anthony.

I’m not surprised. I am saddened, of course. I mean, what sane person doesn’t find this whole story depressing?

What depresses me more, though, is all the missing kids we don’t hear about. Is Caylee Anthony the only kid to have gone missing in the last six months? Unfortunately, no.

But she’s probably the only cute little white girl with an attractive single mom to have gone missing in the last six months. Sure, I’d like to think that the only reason the media has been all over this story is that Casey Anthony is a compelling villain, but it’s not true. Caylee was adorable. And white.

Jennifer Hudson’s missing (black) nephew didn’t garner as much coverage as Caylee has.

And I’m not saying that there shouldn’t have been so much about Caylee. But over 2000 children go missing EVERY DAY. And roughly 2000 children are murdered by their parents or caretakers every year. So the story of Caylee Anthony is not some weird anomaly that deserves media obsession to the exclusion of stories about all the other missing and murdered kids.

When was the last time you saw a news frenzy about a missing child with dark skin? Excluding Jennifer Hudson’s nephew, the last one I can remember occurred when I lived in Kansas City. In that case, it was a story about how they found the remains of a little African-American girl. . . and were hoping someone would identify her. Because the media obviously didn’t pick up the story when she went missing.

The other thing that ticked me off during this news story – and during that long ago Kansas City story – was the pile of bears and toys placed near the sites. Not that I begrudge honoring the dead. . .but where were all these caring people when these children were being neglected and abused while they were alive? Were they calling the department of children and family services? Were they offering to baby-sit? Were they giving bears and toys to the family or other needy families? Were they helping the stressed out parents around them?

Maybe they were. But while teaching I saw so many people afraid to get involved. . .often until it was too late. Some of those people were actually grandparents. Which brings me back to Caylee. I think
I blame her grandparents almost as much as I blame her mother.