That Child Welfare Case That’s Been Stuck In My Head All Week
I was waiting for my taro boba last Saturday, standing in that little shop around the corner from my apartment that always has a 20 minute line, scrolling through my feed to kill time, when I saw the posts popping up again about that foster care kid in Jiangsu. My cousin was with me, holding her 3-year-old son who was clinging to her leg begging for a rainbow popsicle. She glanced at my phone, saw my face, and asked what’s up. I just shrugged and said “nothing, just stupid work drama” because I didn’t want to talk about a kid getting hurt with a toddler standing right there, big curious eyes looking up at us. That awkward little dodge has been sticking with me too, for some reason.
I’m not the type to get wrapped up in every viral hot take. Usually I scroll past these things, feel a bad twinge in my chest, then go back to my laundry or my show or whatever. This one won’t leave, though. I think it’s because when I was 16, I babysat for my neighbor’s little boy every weekday after school. His mom worked night shifts at the local hospital, so I’d pick him up from primary school, make him egg noodles with extra soy sauce, help him color his dinosaur worksheets. Once her boyfriend got drunk and started yelling, and that little kid hid behind my legs and grabbed my shirt so tight his knuckles went white. I still remember the way his hands shook. So when I see people asking over and over where that kid in the news is, if he’s okay, I get it. That’s not internet mob mentality. That’s just people remembering what it’s like to be small and scared and no one showing up for you.
For almost two weeks after the story first broke, all we got was silence from the local civil affairs office. No update, no confirmation if the kid had been moved out, no statement saying they were investigating. Just nothing. I work part-time doing admin at a district-level public office here in Chengdu, so I get the instinct, honestly. Everyone’s scared of saying the wrong thing, of getting criticized if the facts change a little, so they default to waiting until everything is 100% perfect before saying anything at all. I saw that same thing happen two years ago, when there was a rumor of bad tap water in our neighborhood. The higher ups waited three days to put out a statement, and by that time half the neighborhood was buying cases of bottled water at three times the price, and people were sharing fake stories of kids getting hospitalized. Silence doesn’t calm people down. It just fills the space with worse stuff. That’s the thing no one seems to get when they hide behind “ongoing investigation” as an excuse to say nothing. You can say “we’re still looking into this, but the child has been moved to a safe place and is getting care” right now. That doesn’t ruin any investigation. That just stops a hundred thousand people from staying up at night worrying.
I got into this weird awkward spot in my college friend group chat the other day. One friend, who’s a mom of two, started going off about how the whole foster system is broken and no one cares about kids. Another friend pushed back, said that’s not fair, most foster carers are good people, most social workers work their asses off for not much pay. I was sitting there typing and deleting, typing and deleting, because I didn’t know what to say. My aunt has worked at a city children’s welfare home for 22 years. Every Spring Festival she brings home two or three kids that don’t have any other family to stay with, sews them new pajamas, takes them to the zoo. I know it’s not all bad. But I also couldn’t say that the anger is unfounded. Because if the system was working right, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place, right? And if they’re not willing to tell us what happened, how are we supposed to trust that it won’t happen again? I ended up just sending a shrugging emoji and closing the chat. That’s messy, I know. But that’s how it feels right now.
People keep talking about transparency like it’s this big fancy political word, but it’s really just basic respect, right? For the kid, first of all, and for all of us who care. We’re not asking for access to every private detail, obviously. No one wants the kid’s medical info or face splashed all over the internet. We just want answers to the two basic questions: is the kid safe now, and what are you going to do to make sure no other kid goes through this? That’s it. Transparency isn’t for the public to get their drama fix. It’s how you build trust. And when it comes to kids who can’t advocate for themselves, that trust matters more than anything.
I walked past the primary school down the street from my apartment yesterday, right when school got out. All the kids were pouring out, holding their parents’ hands, covered in chalk dust, sucking on lollipops they got as rewards for good behavior. I stood on the sidewalk for a minute just watching, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that kid. I don’t have some big solution to throw out, or a neat moral to this story. I know a lot of these viral cases just fizzle out after a few weeks, once the hype dies down, everyone moves on, and nothing changes. I’m scared that’s what’ll happen here too. But I hope it doesn’t. I hope someone answers the questions this time. I hope the kid gets to be safe, and get that lollipop after school too. That’s all I’ve got right now.
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