Chip StClair - Hero to all the “Children of the Secret”

By Cherry Simpson
As I began to read Chip St Clair’s book The Butterfly Garden I found I couldn’t put it down. It’s a story, you wish wasn’t true, about a little boy whose life was hell on earth. It’s a miracle Chip survives his life on the run with his neglectful, murderous monster of a father. He not only overcomes the pain, the sorrow, and the near death experiences, but Chip fights to put killer dad back in jail where he had escaped from, for the murder of a child. Chip then goes on to investigate this child killer. Was this monster, Michael Grant, really his father or had Chip been kidnapped? Chips birthday was August 1 it was also the day Michael D. Grant stomped, kicked and pummeled the two little Ingersol boys. Killing Scott age 3 and leaving Tommy age 5 barely clinging to life.

The book unfolds with murder and abuses so dark, the reader fears at any moment the child might be lost. I wanted to help him and I heard him say to me, “I have a terrible secret?”

In my mind’s eye I could see this little boy, with sad eyes and mousy brown hair, who would stand in a way that made him smaller. The pit of my stomach ached at every foul name thrown at him, when he was hit I flinched, I was afraid for him each time he hid and tears fell down my cheeks. But then I began to cheer for him as he escaped death; I was amazed at how courageously he went on.



Chip found relief by losing himself in reading, music and art. His favorite poem was Invictus by William Ernest Henley. Chip credits this poem as part of what saved him from drowning in Lake Michigan after his father had thrown him into the cold water abandoning him to drown. He was only ten years old and though he was a good swimmer at the local pool he’d never seen such deep dark swirling water. Yes, I was praying for him, even though I knew Chip is alive and well. I couldn’t help but thank God for saving this little boys life.

In a wonderful narrative voice Chip takes you into the life of an abused child beyond all imagination, escaping his childhood prison into his adult life, where he is Master of his fate and Captain of his soul.

In reading his book Chip St Clair has captured my heart and I now have the understanding of child abuse from the child’s perspective. Children innately love their parents and are confused when they abuse them - the children believe they have somehow caused their own abuse. Sadly at the cost of the child, many families do whatever it takes to preserve their "dirty little secret."

Chip now dedicates his life to helping abused and neglected children as founder and executive director of the St. Clair Butterfly Foundation that helps children heal through the creative arts and literature.

St. Clair is also director of the Michigan chapter of Justice for Children, where he has made tremendous strides in aiding children caught up in the nation's distressed child welfare system. He's worked on legislation with father turned advocate Marc Klaas and the Klaas Kids Foundation.

This summer put his book, The Butterfly Garden, on your list of must-reads. Make sure your library has it and the schoolteachers are aware of it. Become an abused child’s hero and help end the cycle of violence.


A video anthology of TV interviews by author and child abuse activist Chip St Clair, telling his remarkable story as background to his book, The Butterfly Garden (HCI Books)

Courage

By Tanya Warrington

Today I want to salute all those women, men, teenagers and children who have had the courage to tell about their abuse. Courage. It takes bravery to do what you thought you could never do.

The first time that I was told that I was courageous--I thought the other person was crazy. At that point, I felt fear in huge heaping doses. I had driven away from my home with my three children in a desperate effort to keep my children safe from my abusive spouse. I felt panicked. I was in the grips of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), but no one would label until a couple of months later my intense fear that haunted me both in my waking and sleeping hours.

I didn’t feel brave at all.

I had thought that I was brave when I endured abuse and didn’t cry. That type of courage I had learned as a preschooler when my dad sexually assaulted me and told me “big girls don’t cry.” I thought I was brave when I kept horrible secrets deep down inside, because I didn’t want to be responsible for “killing” mother by telling her things she could not bear to hear. I thought I was brave when I kept my life somewhat together when a teenage boyfriend raped me when I was 17. I thought I was brave when I wouldn’t let my husband see my pain, because he fed off signs of pain or weakness. I put up a strong, feel nothing, say nothing front…until the day I understood that my children were in danger because of their father’s worsening “anger problem.”

Now, years later, I understand the courage the friend saw in me. I see it now in other courageous individuals. It takes tremendous courage to believe that there is a better way of living and to risk everything you have and that you know in order to seek that different, abuse-free life. 

Bravery is necessary to leave all that is familiar and plunge into an unknown future. 

Guts are essential to reveal the buried secrets. 

Tenacity is needed, holding onto what feels like a tiny edge, while feeling waves of fear and pain in the aftershock of embarking on the road of truth.

Coping, ever coping, while feeling totally weak and exposed as you ask for help from strangers at shelters or counseling offices or in an emergency room. 

The pain feels like more than you can survive. The reality that you told yourself could not be--is the ugly truth. And facing the truth of abuse can’t be done with anything less than courage.

So, to all of you who have faced the unbearable, I say well done. No matter where you are on the journey of healing, I see the courage in you. Bravo! Bravo! You are making it. You are taking steps toward a better future. You are learning new ways. You are doing things you didn’t think you could do. 

You are like the shaking child at the top of the high dive who finally jumps off and raises to the top of the water to hear the sound of the pool patrons clapping. That kid was terrified, but did it anyway. Others saw the fear and then the courage. They saw and they clapped.  If you and I were in the same room right now, you’d see a big smile on my face and my hands clapping for you.