My Most Difficult Post...
First of all, let me state right from the beginning that THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL POST!
It has nothing to do with any partisan leanings, left or right. I'm not looking for support or sympathy. I'm not looking for justice or vengeance. I have no agenda other than getting my story somewhere other than only in my head. I just need to get it out... It's been in there for far too long.
I won't lie. The events of the last few weeks here in the USA have had me "triggered" (for lack of a better word), and I need to talk about it.
I BELIEVE Christine Blasey Ford. No, there was no physical evidence. No, there were no corroborating witnesses. No, she doesn't remember all the exact details. But does that mean that it never happened? No, it does not. Why didn't she come forward? I can't answer that. All I can say is that many people never come forward for one reason or another. But, I believe her. I believe the victims and survivors, and here's why:
I don't have any corroborating witnesses. I have no physical evidence. I can't remember how old I was when it happened, other than that I was just a boy, no younger than 6 but no older than 12 or 13.
To this day, only a VERY small number of people know-and those are people that are closer to me than anyone else. Hell, none of my own family even know (but they will when and if they read this). Other than telling a former therapist, I have never come forward, and it's been well over 30 years (I'm 46 at the time of this writing) since I was molested and/or assaulted (what's the actual difference anyway?). But despite my lack of "proof"-- This did happen to me.
I grew up in a small, suburban Pennsylvania neighborhood. Everybody on our street knew everybody else (there were only 6 houses including the 2 on the corner where the front doors faced one of the nearest cross-streets.). It was a relatively tight-knit little community. There was a large family that lived around the corner. Our back yards were separated by a fence and some hedges. Over the years I was alternately "best friends" or "mortal enemies" with the kids depending on the day... There a total of 6 siblings. I played and fought with the sisters. One of the brothers helped shape my interest in music and playing guitar. At times, I was even pretty close with the parents. The oldest son was someone I always looked up to. He was at least 5-7 years older than me, maybe more (truthfully, I don't remember exactly). He was the epitome of what I thought was "cool" back then. He dressed cool, he was tough, he had a motorcycle. And, he was a friend. He used to let me tag along on my bicycle when he'd ride his motorcycle in the fields behind the local mall. Or, we'd ride bikes together through the wooded areas a few blocks in the other direction from home. Like I said, he was cool and I looked up to him.
Those "wooded areas" and open fields behind the mall are long since gone, developed by industry and commercialism over the years. But I remember them as clear as day. If I had to, I could get into my car and drive to where they were without fail. I remember the street names (but I won't list them here) as if they were still only blocks away from my house. I remember the who, what and where. I just can't place the exact when. One day, "Cool" and I went bike riding to the woods... We rode along the trail, and stopped in a secluded spot just off the main path. He said to me, "You can't ever tell anybody about this..." I didn't know any better, and I certainly didn't feel threatened in any way. So, I promised I would never say a word... He proceeded to expose himself and started masturbating. Then he told me to masturbate him, telling me to continue until he "finished". While I was doing that, he kept saying "feel how hard it is", and just before he climaxed, he said "watch this!"... Shortly after, he once again swore me to secrecy, we got back on our bikes and rode back home. There was another event where he (unsuccessfully) attempted to penetrate me. Thankfully, my cries of pain made him stop.
In all these years. I've never said a word. In fact, the first time I've ever discussed any of the actual details is right here, right now. I discussed things (without getting into detail) with a therapist a few years ago. At that time, I told her that I didn't think too much about it, because looking back, I never felt threatened (as I said before). I never felt like I was being dominated, or that it was about power. I just felt like he was an older teenage boy experimenting with his sexuality. It wasn't until sexual abuse and assault hit the headlines again that these memories started creeping back. That's when I realized that while I was't forced to do anything, I was certainly coerced into it. I didn't want it. I was too young to know any better (or anything at all). I know it wasn't my fault. He may have wanted to experiment. But why did he have to "experiment" with me? I can't say with any certainty how those memories will affect me going forward. But they will remain with me for the rest of my life.
Sometimes the only "evidence" of molestation, assault or rape is mental and emotional. How can that be "proven"?
It happened. It doesn't just happen to women. I was just a little boy and it happened to me.
That is why I believe and stand with all the victims.
#MeToo
It has nothing to do with any partisan leanings, left or right. I'm not looking for support or sympathy. I'm not looking for justice or vengeance. I have no agenda other than getting my story somewhere other than only in my head. I just need to get it out... It's been in there for far too long.
I won't lie. The events of the last few weeks here in the USA have had me "triggered" (for lack of a better word), and I need to talk about it.
I BELIEVE Christine Blasey Ford. No, there was no physical evidence. No, there were no corroborating witnesses. No, she doesn't remember all the exact details. But does that mean that it never happened? No, it does not. Why didn't she come forward? I can't answer that. All I can say is that many people never come forward for one reason or another. But, I believe her. I believe the victims and survivors, and here's why:
I don't have any corroborating witnesses. I have no physical evidence. I can't remember how old I was when it happened, other than that I was just a boy, no younger than 6 but no older than 12 or 13.
To this day, only a VERY small number of people know-and those are people that are closer to me than anyone else. Hell, none of my own family even know (but they will when and if they read this). Other than telling a former therapist, I have never come forward, and it's been well over 30 years (I'm 46 at the time of this writing) since I was molested and/or assaulted (what's the actual difference anyway?). But despite my lack of "proof"-- This did happen to me.
I grew up in a small, suburban Pennsylvania neighborhood. Everybody on our street knew everybody else (there were only 6 houses including the 2 on the corner where the front doors faced one of the nearest cross-streets.). It was a relatively tight-knit little community. There was a large family that lived around the corner. Our back yards were separated by a fence and some hedges. Over the years I was alternately "best friends" or "mortal enemies" with the kids depending on the day... There a total of 6 siblings. I played and fought with the sisters. One of the brothers helped shape my interest in music and playing guitar. At times, I was even pretty close with the parents. The oldest son was someone I always looked up to. He was at least 5-7 years older than me, maybe more (truthfully, I don't remember exactly). He was the epitome of what I thought was "cool" back then. He dressed cool, he was tough, he had a motorcycle. And, he was a friend. He used to let me tag along on my bicycle when he'd ride his motorcycle in the fields behind the local mall. Or, we'd ride bikes together through the wooded areas a few blocks in the other direction from home. Like I said, he was cool and I looked up to him.
Those "wooded areas" and open fields behind the mall are long since gone, developed by industry and commercialism over the years. But I remember them as clear as day. If I had to, I could get into my car and drive to where they were without fail. I remember the street names (but I won't list them here) as if they were still only blocks away from my house. I remember the who, what and where. I just can't place the exact when. One day, "Cool" and I went bike riding to the woods... We rode along the trail, and stopped in a secluded spot just off the main path. He said to me, "You can't ever tell anybody about this..." I didn't know any better, and I certainly didn't feel threatened in any way. So, I promised I would never say a word... He proceeded to expose himself and started masturbating. Then he told me to masturbate him, telling me to continue until he "finished". While I was doing that, he kept saying "feel how hard it is", and just before he climaxed, he said "watch this!"... Shortly after, he once again swore me to secrecy, we got back on our bikes and rode back home. There was another event where he (unsuccessfully) attempted to penetrate me. Thankfully, my cries of pain made him stop.
In all these years. I've never said a word. In fact, the first time I've ever discussed any of the actual details is right here, right now. I discussed things (without getting into detail) with a therapist a few years ago. At that time, I told her that I didn't think too much about it, because looking back, I never felt threatened (as I said before). I never felt like I was being dominated, or that it was about power. I just felt like he was an older teenage boy experimenting with his sexuality. It wasn't until sexual abuse and assault hit the headlines again that these memories started creeping back. That's when I realized that while I was't forced to do anything, I was certainly coerced into it. I didn't want it. I was too young to know any better (or anything at all). I know it wasn't my fault. He may have wanted to experiment. But why did he have to "experiment" with me? I can't say with any certainty how those memories will affect me going forward. But they will remain with me for the rest of my life.
Sometimes the only "evidence" of molestation, assault or rape is mental and emotional. How can that be "proven"?
It happened. It doesn't just happen to women. I was just a little boy and it happened to me.
That is why I believe and stand with all the victims.
#MeToo
Oh Scott, I commend your bravery in telling your story! You may not identify as such, but you are now my, and many others, hero. It takes so much courage, bravery, and UNBELIEVABLE STRENGTH AND GUTS to speak your story!!! Many women are starting to tell their stories. I believe you are the first MALE I’ve heard release this trauma in such a profound way. This helps sooo many OTHER boys and men to look this dead square in its face, AND DEAL. Exorcise the demons out of you by TELLING YOUR STORY! It will help start the HEALING process, even in my OWN family. You have no idea how through your trauma, you are now saving and helping others through their own abuse/pain.
ReplyDeleteI love you my dear friend.
Thank You for speaking the unspeakable.
ReplyDeleteYou are a Warrior .
Me too#
Mimi Gloria .