This past week, Zoe Schlanger of Newsweek interviewed me about Escuela Caribe. The article, Where American Teens Were Abused in the Name of God, is here.
This week, Kidnapped for Christ, an expose about Escuela Caribe, premiered on Showtime. I was interviewed for the documentary, though my interview did not make the final cut. An outtake of me discussing the school is here.
Thank you for being so vocal about this horrendous school. I was in the Starr house from Dec 1995 to Nov 1996. My mother, who just lost her fiancé, heard about this program through Focus on the Family. She thought it’d be the solution for me. I had begun skipping school and getting a ride to my gym. I was a level 9 gymnast working hard to make level 10 (national) and a college scholarship. Working out, I forgot my home problems, I felt free to shine.
My mother told me one day we were going to fly down to visit my grandparents. My grandfather met me and my mother at the airport. He then informed me we were going to take trip to his property in Puerto Rico. I thought “cool, I haven’t been there yet”.
When we de-boarded the plane, I noticed where I was. My grandfather then told me they found a school they thought I might like in the Dominican. I was furious.
We arrived at the school. My mother and grandfather went into Redwine’s office leaving me in the center upper patio to take in all the students and their odd behaviors. They hurried around without normal school chatter or laughter. Nobody said “hi” or any acknowledgement of me other than the occasional wide eyed glance. I was directed to a large room where a couple of large sea bags were dumped out all over the concrete floor. A student and my new counselor, Pam, were going through these new belongings of mine (my grandfather packed and checked them for me). I was accused of trying to sneak prohibited items in (advil was in the bag). I told them I had never seen those bags before, they retorted that I would learn to accept responsibility. I was confused and irritated. After they had boxed up the unacceptable items and refilled my new bags with those deemed acceptable, I and the other student carrying the bags followed Pam up the hill to the house. I never got to say good-bye to my mom or grandpa.
I remember that first dinner. The odd manner half the table basically shouted over each other asking for permission to sit and again to eat. Rob, the HF, served Mary, the HM, then announced to the rest of the table portion sizes of each item as he plopped it on his plate and passed it around. I tried to be a good guest and try a little of each while staying under the allotted portion size. When the powdered milk came around I politely declined stating milk does not agree with me (instant sweats and vomiting). Rob kept scribbling and tapping his pen on his clipboard throughout dinner. After dinner the girls went back to the odd rush-hour traffic style hurrying getting dishes clean. Racing to stop and shout out “ExcuseMeRobMayIEnterTheKitchen”, “ExcuseMeRobMayIEnterTheMudRoom”, “ExcuseMeRobMayIEnterTheKitchen”. I couldn’t help but stare with horror.
My first real day was something I can never forget, no matter how badly I’d like to. The morning was just a whirlwind of taking it all in. Lunchtime they served something edible along with a banana. I detest bananas. The texture and smell have always, and to this day, gross me out. I was told I could not be excused from the table until I ate the banana, so I sat there doing and saying nothing. After about thirty minutes of refusing to eat the banana, Redwine’s right hand man sat next to me. The guy’s name escapes me. All I remember is his crazy lazy eye. He asked me if I was going to eat the banana. I replied I was not and he was welcome to it if he wanted it, he laughed. He picked up the banana and asked me to follow him to his office. His mood flipped as soon as the door closed. He screamed at and threatened me for hours. He had me do push-up and thrusts jumps in between his intimidation stare down. He informed me this would all be over once I ate the banana. I remained silent and refusing to eat it. He was infuriated that I was not broken down by the physical tasks (I worked out 60hrs/wk before arriving there) or the screaming (I was more focused on his eye than his words). He then jabbed his index finger into my windpipe with such force I fell against the wall. He told me they had ways to deal with kids like me, grabbed my arm, and tried to yank me out of his office without success. It obviously caught him by surprise that he could not physically force this 5’4″ 108# girl to move unwillingly. He called another male teacher over to assist him in removing me from his office. By this time I was not going to follow them or allow them to move me, I began to push them and kick them away from me. TKB’s HF and Redwine also joined in to aid the two struggling men. Four grown men in total, one on each limb, finally managed to pick me up and carry me to the bare cement room known as QR. I have no idea how long I was in there, best guess 3-4 hours, over a banana.
I’ve carried on too long. There is a ton more, it came flooding back when a co-worker mentioned the documentary that aired last week. I couldn’t stop the involuntary tears pouring over driving home, had to get at least a portion of the swarm out so I can try to focus on current life.
Wow Brenna, thanks for writing. It is all so familiar. The terror of the first day- where they provoke you to break you. The weird cult behavior. Dinner rituals, etc. I think the guy with lazy eye was Dan K. I hope you broke through the other side and that you are doing well now. I am glad my words can help. We all need to break silence. It is the only way to make this madness of institutionalizing teens for profit to stop. Best of luck to you. Take good care of yourself as you process all of this. <3, D
Brenna,
I have looked everywhere for you. I owe you such a big thank you. You’re the reason I got out. If it wasn’t for your mom making a call to my mom who knows what would have happened. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Che! I think about you a lot, even named my little boy the male version of your name. When my mom found out about Mr. Brown, phone calls being recorded and coached, Sarah’s ankle, the different rule books (kids & parents), the running til we puked – then run some more, and everything else…. Yeah she was furious. She called everyone on her list, wrote public servants and Focus on the Family, and looked into legal ramifications. I’m so glad you were able to get out of there before they could do much more harm. Hit me up on linkedin (it’s the only social media I do), we need to catch up.
Can’t thank you enough for publicizing the truth about these institutions, because there are hundreds of thousands of kids (& parents,) who’ve been subjected to harm & permanent damage from them. They all need to connect to be able to heal, so this is a start, but there are still so many who need to be in contact together to heal & have a chance to live to their full potential. Self esteem is so important in order to function in life, & having children’s development stifled is permanently damaging. So please continue what you’re doing, can’t wait for your book, & realize it takes people like you to make this their life’s work in order to help connect the thousands psychologically damaged by this. What you’re doing is SO important, & it makes what you went through “worth-it” in a way because without your writing, how else would all these people have connected? Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Thanks for the props! And crazy right, that a whole industry is built on “breaking” kids. Keep speaking out!
D