Community Essay : ‘I Was Afraid of My Daughter’ : A nurturing mother becomes a tough “father” to pry her child away from gangs.

Late one night, not knowing where my daughter was, I stood in her room and glared at pictures of her and her boyfriend. I wanted to rip them out of the frames.

What was happening to me? I had always been a calm and together mom. But now my daughter was dating a gang member and our family was in a state of continuous emotional upheaval. My 15-year-old son was humiliated by his older sister’s behavior. I was exhausted and in constant denial of my feelings. I gathered the pictures, drove to the alley behind the market and dumped them.

How had all of this started? As a single parent of two teen-agers, I was aware of the frightening increase in gangs and related violence, but I never worried about my kids. Not in our predominantly white, middle-class family community tucked away quietly on the outskirts of Los Angeles. At least not until last summer, when the telephone rang one evening.

It was the police. My 17-year-old daughter and her girlfriend had been seen letting five gang members get into my car. When she came home that evening, she defiantly told me she had been involved with a local gang for a month and her boyfriend was a member. She said it was exciting and she was old enough to do as she pleased.

Questions whirled through my mind that night as I lay in bed. How could I have prevented this? Why hadn’t I been more aware? I thought back to her junior year when I had watched her slowly drift away from her familiar circle of friends then hook up with a girl who seemed uncomfortable around me and rarely came into the house. I remembered how afraid she had been when girl gang members from her high school had threatened her. Our house had even been the target of a drive-by shooting. Though no one was injured, the police were shocked that this could happen in our peaceful neighborhood. Through it all, I was ignorant of the depth of the problem.

I also had been so involved with my own life that I rarely had time for my children. It all seemed so ‘90s--working full-time, community involvement, church activities.

I prayed for guidance. As I closed my eyes I thought of all the people who cared deeply for her. Her father, brothers, grandparents, relatives and close friends. I decided to call them the next day and ask them to call her and explain that they were aware of the situation and express their concern and love for her.

When the phone calls came she was furious. How dare I tell people about her private life? Next I called a friend who is a teacher who works with teen-agers, the school district and the police department. She told me I had been a good mother but a “lousy father” and it was critical that I move from passive to active. My sister-in-law, based on her experience with her own kids, added, “She won’t change until you do.” That was the toughest challenge I have ever had. Deep down, I knew I was afraid of my daughter. She was strong-willed, forceful and decisive. Could I become as strong?

My being unemployed during this time proved to be a blessing, for every waking moment was spent gathering information and enforcing rules. I was to know where she was at all times--no exceptions--and with whom. I was to have an address and a phone number. She was not to go to any home where there was no adult present.

She thought I was crazy and continued to do as she pleased. I took her driver’s license away and dropped her from my car insurance. I had the phone line she shared with her brother disconnected.

I found out about an unsupervised party and arrived before she did. Sitting in a room full of teen-agers, I told them if she spent the night then I would spend the night. You can imagine how quickly they worked toward a solution. They had her home by midnight.

One night, after being verbally abusive, she stormed out of the house. I told her she must tell me where she was going. She refused. I said I would no longer tolerate such behavior and if she kept going then she was to stay out. She left and that night I locked the house for the first time in years. Knowing where she was staying and that she was safe didn’t make it any easier to live with my decision.

The next day she appeared at the door and started shouting. I stood my ground. She left and she knew that Mom had changed. Three days later, she wrote me a long letter apologizing for her behavior and asking to come home. After she signed a commitment to a new set of rules, I let her. We both were apprehensive. Could and would she follow the rules?

Not only did she, but we became a family once again. The tension gradually melted. We became comfortable with one another and even laughed at the rough ride we’d just taken. The nurturing role of mother resurfaced and blended with the forceful father role I had developed. I gave her the freedom to continue to “hang out” with her girlfriend and a couple of weeks later she decided to stop seeing her. She broke up with her boyfriend and slowly began to see more of her old friends. One day I walked in to find her writing letters to everyone who had called her at the beginning. She was thanking them for their concern, reassuring them she was OK.

She completed high school with a 3.0 grade point average, and is currently attending college. Looking back now at this crisis in our lives, my daughter and I smile at one another, knowing it was a very important opportunity for growth--for both of us.