We called him Ralph, on his insistence. His daughter was my age -- which was, what, 8? 9? -- and all the kids that would come to her house called him by his first name. We gossiped about him, too, although not within his daughter's earshot. Ralph is gross. Ralph is a skeeze. Don't let Ralph hug you. He hugged everyone, all us kids, and the hugs went on too long and sometimes there was a kiss that surprised you with a repulsive, probing tongue, and everyone knew there was something weird about Ralph but we never said anything to a grownup.
Until someone did. I don't know who it was or what was said but all of a sudden Ralph's name was in the paper and along with his history of being an IBM employee and a family man with a wife and kids, Ralph was described as exactly what he was: a molester.
It wasn't until my mother tearfully asked me if Ralph had ever touched me in an inappropriate way that I realized that what he did was wrong. Really wrong.
Not just the hugging. The other stuff.
It only happened once that I remember. I was spending the night with my friend, and we were sharing her bed. It was dark and Ralph came in and climbed in bed next to me. Was she asleep? Was she pretending? I don't know. He whispered that he thought maybe I was cold, and that he would try to warm me up. He took my hand and brought it under his pants to his penis. It felt monstrously creepy, skin slipping loosely over some hard insistent thing, and I pulled away. Did he say anything, then? I don't know. I think maybe he just left, as stealthily as he'd come.
And that was that, except for those hugs and furtive French-kissing attempts. Ralph was gross, I knew that much. We all knew that. But I never considered telling anyone about that night -- not because I was afraid, or even ashamed, but because I didn't really realize the seriousness of what had happened.
It all came out when he ended up in the paper. My babysitter told my mother that she'd heard me saying something about how Ralph was creepy, and my mother sat me down and asked me questions, and eventually she wept brokenly while I confessed. I remember she was so, so upset ... not just that it had happened, but that I'd never said anything. Why, she kept asking me. Why?
I didn't know then and I still don't know now. Why didn't I tell anyone about what he'd done? Why didn't it even occur to me that he was doing very bad things to kids, and that we all needed help? Surely I wasn't so uninformed as to not know it was wrong for a grown man to put a little girl's hand on his penis?
I don't know how many kids Ralph molested, and I don't know what happened to him. I know what happened to me, though: my mother packed us up, sold our house, and moved us across the entire country, from Virginia to Oregon. For a while, I was sent to a counselor who, just like the jokes go, asked me to point out the areas on a doll where I'd been touched. I felt bewildered, a little, at all the attention -- at all the fuss. Eventually life went on, and I think I can say with honesty that I mostly forgot all about Ralph.
It's only now that I'm a parent that I really have a sense about how my mother must have felt back then. How furious she must have been with Ralph, how heartbroken and frustrated she must have been over my silence.
What would I do if the same thing happened to one of my children? I think I would lose my mind with grief and anger. I would want to tear the flesh from the molester's body with my bare fingers, I would never in a million years be capable of forgiveness.
And oh, I would be shattered that my kid didn't come to me. I would question, a thousand times over, what I could have done differently. Should I have talked more about the bad things adults sometimes do to children? Should I have drilled it into them over and over: if this ever happens to you, tell an adult?
What did my experience teach me, I wonder. And the answer is the same as it's always been: I don't know.
How do you educate your children about sexual abuse, and what age did you start talking about it?
Image via Flickr/mrhayata
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Comments 44
it's amazing to me how much children know or that we just instinctively know as children' without being told. I had a teacher in 10th grade who was just such a person. Before we walked into the class my friend said, "if you hike your skirt up in Mr Quina's class you'll get an A." I just laughed it off but I shouldn't have. Thankfully what ended up happening that year wasn't as traumatic as some of the things others have posted, but it was still wrong.
I will try my best to instill in all of my children that if something feels wrong, you need to trust your instincts. I would a million times rather have a misunderstanding that at the most leads to embarrassment than the alternative that leads to a lifetime of healing.
We started educating our child when she knew what her "Pridates" were, she called them pridates not privates, so we started saying no one can touch them and you tell mommy if anyone does. She understood that nana, papa, mom and dad may help with a bath and wiping but that anything else that makes you feel sad or scared tell mommy and daddy. I also told her doctors may look but mommy and daddy will always be there. We have told them they can touch their own privates in private also. I believe so many people tell thier kids these things but when it happens they do exactly what you did, buried it. I became teary eyed when reading this, especially about your mothers emotions because I can feel her pain now that I am a mother. I also tell my hubby not to kill anyone if this were to ever happen because we will need each other to help our child cope with what that part of her/his life. We have explained the same thing to our middle child, a boy and will do so as our youngest, a boy ages. We have also told them not to ever touch anyones privates or butt because it will hurt them and make them sad. As they grow up we hope they know the difference between appropriate and non appropriate touching.
I did my best to make sure I didn't give the chance for men to have access to my girls & watched for any signs that were sure to come out if something happened. Building good communication and trust helped too. They knew I would not judge them.
Thank you for sharing your story. That took alot of courage, and I applaud you. I will not go into detail, but I am a one time victim as well, and I often worry about similar things happening to my children. I admit, I often check the local pedifile websites, and I frequent http://www.causekeepers.com/stop-it-now/ to read their resources.
I recently found out that my stepbrother molested my daughter when she was 8 (now she's 14) during a sleepover at my dads house. She confided in a friend, he didn't feel like he should keep the secret, and he told me. There aren't enough words to describe how I felt (and still feel). Why didn't she tell me? Was she ok? What now? Thankully she is ok, and he wasn't able to get what he really "wanted", but it's something that we'll all have to live with forever, and it's had a profound effect on my family. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.
No one else read or was freaked out by the woman who was molested by her cousin and is okay with it? I always tell my kids that that they don't have to do or allow anything to be done to them, no matter who it is or what they say. I've told them repeatedly that if an adult or another kid wants them to do something they don't want to do to tell them to call me and that they will never be in trouble for checking with me. I think you can make it too scary for kids if you say things like "If some one hurt you I'd kill them." I know a girl who didn't tell her parents what was going on bc she was worried her dad would get in trouble if he killed or hurt the man molesting her.