It's strange how sexual abuse can grab control of a child's mind. Around six years old I recall sitting on the edge of the bathtub while my mom was putting her makeup on. I wanted her to know how I was feeling. This deep agony within my soul which became part of my daily life. From the time I woke up in the morning until the time I fell asleep my mind was constantly trying to understand sex; who it was meant for, when was it appropriate, what jokes I was allowed to acknowledge, or what shows on TV were really about. Children catch on to much more than we give them credit for especially when they are going through abuse secretively. The thought of getting into trouble for knowing too much about a sensitive subject was my number one fear. So the first time I spoke out against the abuse, I told someone that I deeply trusted.
My father's family was huge. He has three brothers and three sisters which made for quite the family function when we were all together. It was not uncommon for the kids to go off and find something to entertain themselves. If two or three of them where missing from the room, the adults assumed they were together and just playing some child appropriate game. That wasn't always the case in my family. One of my uncles which was closer to the kids ages than his brothers and sisters, was looked at like just another cousin most of time. He became a great mentor to many of my cousins and myself included, and still is to this day.
One day when I was six or seven years old I told him that I had a secret to share. In so many words I explained to him that I thought something inappropriate was happening. Although he was older, I didn't understand the stress he was placed under to keep things like this a secret. I was never angry with him for not standing up for me, but I did wonder why he allowed this to continue knowing that I was not okay. Deep down it made me feel like the sexual abuse I was experiencing was normal. And in my own ways I began to test the waters with my friends and other children I had encountered.
While at the babysitter's house at age seven, I began to touch a little boy who was maybe a few years younger than myself. After he smacked me, I realized I had done something bad. I wasn't sure why it was bad or why he didn't enjoy what I was doing. I thought we were just playing like I had done so many times with my cousin. It wasn't long after that when I tried to speak out again; this time to my cousin's oldest sister.
I remember being outside looking up at the stars while we took dried laundry off of the clothes line. Her hair was so long, full, jet black, and beautiful. I always thought she was pretty. While admiring her, a gut wrenching feeling made me spit out the words I was so desperately wanting to get off of my chest. As soon as I said them though, I immediately regretted it. The look on her face was a mix of shock, fear, and maybe sadness. I still believe to this day that she had the best intentions in mind when she told me that everything happens for a reason and quickly moved on from the topic.
The last attempt at speaking out was during my eighth birthday party, when I told my cousin's youngest sister. She, like her older sister, was shocked. This didn't stop her though. She went straight to our parents and told them what had been happening. For this reason she will forever be my savior. I learned years later that my cousins, all three of them, had been severely abused by their father, which made me understand so many things looking back at the situations I had put them in. I will never hold a grudge towards them for not speaking out for me; especially when they were struggling with doing it for themselves. How my savior was able to muster up the courage I will never know, but I will forever be grateful.
My father's family was huge. He has three brothers and three sisters which made for quite the family function when we were all together. It was not uncommon for the kids to go off and find something to entertain themselves. If two or three of them where missing from the room, the adults assumed they were together and just playing some child appropriate game. That wasn't always the case in my family. One of my uncles which was closer to the kids ages than his brothers and sisters, was looked at like just another cousin most of time. He became a great mentor to many of my cousins and myself included, and still is to this day.
One day when I was six or seven years old I told him that I had a secret to share. In so many words I explained to him that I thought something inappropriate was happening. Although he was older, I didn't understand the stress he was placed under to keep things like this a secret. I was never angry with him for not standing up for me, but I did wonder why he allowed this to continue knowing that I was not okay. Deep down it made me feel like the sexual abuse I was experiencing was normal. And in my own ways I began to test the waters with my friends and other children I had encountered.
While at the babysitter's house at age seven, I began to touch a little boy who was maybe a few years younger than myself. After he smacked me, I realized I had done something bad. I wasn't sure why it was bad or why he didn't enjoy what I was doing. I thought we were just playing like I had done so many times with my cousin. It wasn't long after that when I tried to speak out again; this time to my cousin's oldest sister.
I remember being outside looking up at the stars while we took dried laundry off of the clothes line. Her hair was so long, full, jet black, and beautiful. I always thought she was pretty. While admiring her, a gut wrenching feeling made me spit out the words I was so desperately wanting to get off of my chest. As soon as I said them though, I immediately regretted it. The look on her face was a mix of shock, fear, and maybe sadness. I still believe to this day that she had the best intentions in mind when she told me that everything happens for a reason and quickly moved on from the topic.
The last attempt at speaking out was during my eighth birthday party, when I told my cousin's youngest sister. She, like her older sister, was shocked. This didn't stop her though. She went straight to our parents and told them what had been happening. For this reason she will forever be my savior. I learned years later that my cousins, all three of them, had been severely abused by their father, which made me understand so many things looking back at the situations I had put them in. I will never hold a grudge towards them for not speaking out for me; especially when they were struggling with doing it for themselves. How my savior was able to muster up the courage I will never know, but I will forever be grateful.
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