This is a story meant for everyone but, it is not of the feel good type. It is a topic that should be discussed, if not only to reach someone who may be a victim, but perhaps even the pervert to enlighten him or her, although I don’t think perverts have much in the way of feelings. After all what they do to others would take someone with no sense of conscious.
Incest! Rape! What small, awful, disgusting words. Incest is rape. How many of you have thought of this in those terms. It seems that when talked about the two are separated out, but they are the same.
How many of you have ever thought of these terms? Or the people that these words impact? Unfortunately with shows like ” Law and Order, Special Victims Unit” most of us do know stories, but sadly this has become entertainment. People watch but don’t realize that these situations. These story bars can be about true crimes against real victims. How many of you have had the experience? I know you are out there just by the statistics that are available.
I will say here that it takes only “one” experience to mar a person’s life forever. Let me say that again, ONLY ONE experience is needed to damage a part of a person’s self. So many have been affected by incest and rape. According to this link: http://www.dayoneri.org/
- Every 73 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted. Every 8 minutes, that victim is a child.
- One of every seven victims (or 14% of all victims) of sexual assault reported to law enforcement agencies was under age 6. One in three victims of sexual assault is under age 12.
- One in every four girls and one in every six boys will be a victim of sexual abuse before age 18.
- In more than 90% of child abuse cases, the victim knows his or her abuser. Almost half the time, it’s a family member.
- According to Child Protective Services, from 2009-2013 63,000 children a year were victims of sexual abuse.
Another web site that you can turn to if you want some disturbing statistics is this one by the government: /www.nsopw.gov/
- In a 2012 maltreatment report, of the victims who were sexually abused, 26% were in the age group of 12–14 years and 34% were younger than 9 years. 9
- Approximately 1.8 million adolescents in the United States have been the victims of sexual assault. 4
- Research conducted by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimates that approximately 1 in 6 boys and 1 in 4 girls are sexually abused before the age of 18. 1
- 35.8% of sexual assaults occur when the victim is between the ages of 12 and 17. 1
- 82% of all juvenile victims are female. 5
- 69% of the teen sexual assaults reported to law enforcement occurred in the residence of the victim, the offender, or another individual. 5
- Teens 16 to 19 years of age were 3 ½ times more likely than the general population to be victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.6
- Approximately 1 in 5 female high school students report being physically and/or sexually abused by a dating partner.
And this one as well that tells of the perpetrators: https://victimsofcrime.org
Statistics on Perpetrators of Child Sexual Abuse
- Offenders are overwhelmingly male, ranging from adolescents to the elderly (page 171).
- Some perpetrators are female. It is estimated that women are the abusers in about 14% of cases reported among boys and 6% of cases reported among girls.
- Approximately one-third of offenders are themselves juveniles (page 172).
- 23% of reported cases of child sexual abuse are perpetrated by individuals under the age of 18 (page 3)
- Only 14% of children who suffered sexual abuse were violated by an unknown perpetrator (page 172).
- 60% of children are sexually abused by someone in their social circle. Hence, the phrase “Stranger Danger” is misleading (page 172).
- Meta-analysis estimates that 14% of sexual offenders commit another sexual offense after five years, 24% after fifteen years (page 172).
- Child Maltreatment 2010 reports that 6.2% of child abusers sexually abused a child (page 77).
- 40-80% of juvenile sex offenders have themselves been victims of sexual abuse (Advances in Clinical Child Psychology, page 19).
What a sad epitaph for the human race! What disgusting human beings we have become! Do any of these criminals even know what their crime does to it’s victim for the rest of their life. I know they don’t give a dam.
In my case it was incest. Father to daughter rape. What makes a man, a father, supposedly someone who loves his family, turn to his daughter, or son, and with no thought or care to the outcome rape them. What sick pieces of their brain say that this is okay?
I’m going to tell my story, not because it is a horror story, comparing it with television it would barely rate a line in a newspaper but, it did damage me for life. I am sixty six years old and it still haunts me. Still brings tears to my eyes.
There were two daughters. My sister was a year and a half older then myself. I know this happened to her as well, but to this day we have never really talked about it. My plan is to talk to her about it, get it out in the open, when next I visit her. We need to talk.
Anyway, my first memory is when my parents had split up. My mother left us, all four children, with my father, and went to live on her own. She was gone for one year. I am sure for her that year was wonderful. I mean she married so young, had four children, and never had her youth. That is what the girls did in her family after the war. That year was a nightmare for me. For my sister I can’t know because we never talked about it.
The first memory was when we were in the bath. For some reason my father came into the bathroom with this little box of body powder and ” showed” us how to powder our bodies after getting out of the tub. We stood their naked and unafraid. We trusted him. The box was a pretty pink with a big fluffy powder puff. It smelt wonderful. We laughed as the powder floated in the air not realizing he had an ulterior motive. I just giggled and thought it was funny that he didn’t think we knew how to powder ourselves. After all I was nine and knew everything.
As to my actual age at the time of these incidents I can’t really say. The situations are like little flash cards in my memory bank. Little snippets, little flashes.
This happened twice that I remember. The powder scene. The second time it made me uncomfortable. My sister and I did not talk about it nor did we laugh as much. We sense that it wasn’t right.
Somewhere in my memory bank I know that things were happening to my sister. I can’t tell you details because they are not there. That’s why we need to talk sometime. I just have this remembered feeling that something was going on. This piece of a memory of her walking down the hallway at night towards my father’s room.
Then one day my sister was going on a trip. She was going to stay with some cousins and I begged her not to go. I pleaded with her not to leave me alone. I was scared shitless but never told her why I needed her to stay. I wasn’t even sure myself, I just felt if she left I was “next.” Let me remind you I don’t have all the memories in clear lined up pictures. Just flashes and feelings. And boy were my feelings going haywire. I begged her not to go all the way until the minute she went out the door. I have this memory of her smiling smugly as she left as if she too knew what was in store for me. I felt like she was getting her revenge on me. I don’t know that this was true.
She wasn’t gone long, maybe a few days, before it became my ” turn.” Then one night my father came to my room and got me. My first flash is of me walking down that hallway in my panties with no top on, it was hot in our house, summer. It was like walking to the gallows. I was sick at my stomach with fear.
The next flash is of me being naked and crying. I was in my father’s bed. I felt ” greasy” but I couldn’t tell you where. I just had this feeling of grease. My sobs is what I hear when I think of this moment in my life.
I must of woke my older brother,who was a couple of years older, because suddenly he was in the room. The next flash is of my father telling my brother and I that he was dying of cancer. Throat cancer and how he would miss us. I remember my brother and I both crying over this. My father asked us not to tell anyone because he didn’t want them to know that he was going to die. He really played it up for us. I think I was still in my father’s bed but I don’t remember if my brother was there too or standing by the bedside.
My father talked about going somewhere for treatment. After several minutes he sent my brother back to bed then he turned to me and promised me a BIG bottle of pop in the morning if I didn’t say anything and sent me back to my bed. I have a flash of putting my panties back on. I didn’t have any pajamas on, no top or anything as I returned to my room.
I must have slept. I don’t remember anything else. I do remember looking at my father’s hands when he came home that night from work. He was empty handed. No pop. I was shocked. He had promised. I let it ride until the next day when he came home empty handed again. This time I did ask about my pop. I just looked at him and said ” did you bring my pop” no mention of his crime. And he had the balls to say ” you don’t need any pop” and walked away. I was wounded to my soul. He violated me and then never kept his word. I hated him from that day forward.
When my sister returned I barely talked to her. She knew what had happen just by looking at me but we never said a word. I didn’t like her very much after that. I had always felt if she wouldn’t have abandoned me then I wouldn’t have been molested. Not that I thought in that term. And, selfishly I never thought about what may be happening to her in those wee hours of the morning either because they continued after she returned.
After my mother returned I do have another flash card in my brain. We had company. They were staying over. My mother said my dad would have to sleep in our bed, my sisters and mine, so that the guests could have their’s. It was a party of some sort. Lots of drinking and stuff. That is what my family did. Drink. At first I begged my mother to let me sleep on the couch. I didn’t want my dad in my bed, then I cried. She thought I was being silly and sent me to bed early. I remember I laid there full of fear, feeling like a trapped animal.
When my sister came to bed I was still crying. All she did was tell me to shut up and go to sleep. I hugged the edge of the bed barely keeping myself from falling out until I fell asleep. When my dad came in he was drunk. He crashed onto the bed and passed out snoring away. I listened for that snore all night worried that he would wake up and reach for me. He never tried a thing, but I didn’t sleep well until he was gone again in the morning.
I will say my father never died from cancer. He had lied and never had it. I prayed often that he would die but unfortunately he lived to a ripe old age. His crimes eventually came out at a Christmas party my mother was hosting for the first time in many years. We were older by three or so years. My brother came home drunk and when my father confronted him he cursed him in front of the whole family while revealing his rape of his daughters years ago.
It was a horrible time. People left, my mother went after my sister yelling and screaming. She came into our room where we were hiding in bed and slapped her in the face, calling her terrible names as if she was some how responsible. All the while I was hiding under the covers hoping she wouldn’t turn on me. I’ve always felt terribly bad that I didn’t defend my sister nor reveal my abuse as well. Why do people blame the victims? I blamed my mother because she had left us but, I never told her that. And, I never told her he did it to me too. Not till years later when one day I said to her ” skeeter wasn’t the only one you know.” that was my sister’s nick name. My mother just looked at me, a little sadly, and never said a word. Why did my mother not embrace her and weep for what had been done to her?
She did go after my father yelling and screaming. He left, they eventually divorced, and the family never talked about it. Never. After that I never had much to do with him. My sister did, she even lived with him for a time. I could never quite understand that. He later married another woman with daughters and I often wondered if he did to them what he had done to us.
To this day I feel defiled by him. I hate him for taking away a part of me. For breaking my trust and stealing my innocence. I never fully trusted a man again. I had a hard time for many, many years even undressing in front of anyone, even my husbands. I still have flashes of that little girl walking down that hallway, of grease, of the lies he told to keep us quiet. I wanted him to die for a very long time, and when he finally did I felt nothing but relief.
The point behind this revelation is that even a small incident such as what happened to me, and I do consider it small compared to the horror so many others have faced, can and is damaging. These people who violate others through their perverted sexual urges need to understand the damage they are doing. I know they don’t care because so many are repeat offenders, but it must stop somehow.
How can we make this a better place? There are so many crimes against women and children. So many. There is so much sex trafficking. So many victims violated. And, the depth of these crimes is shocking to the core of my being.
I don’t know what the punishment is for these crimes but it is not enough. Not even close. Lobotomy and castrations should be among the choices of sentences for these perverts, for perverts they are. You take away a person’s childhood, their self esteem, their pride, and leave them wounded for life. Even one occurrence can leave them emotionally wounded. I was.
Remember this statistic:
- Every 73 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted. Every 8 minutes, that victim is a child.
That is horrendous, every eight minutes a child is raped. If you know of this happening or suspect it is call the police. Call child services. Get help for the victims. You are not going to prevent the emotional wounds. They are there but, you can help put away the pervert who is preying on these victims.
If you live in a cloud and doubt this reality then look at the latest statistics. Look at crime web sites. Rape, torture, and other crimes are happening all the time to someone, somewhere, all over the WORLD. We have all heard of the kidnapping and rape of women and children in other countries. It happens in the US as well as you can see.
Ask someone how you can help. Volunteer. Give to organizations that help these victims. Report these crimes if you know they are happening. And, if it is happening to you tell someone. Let someone help you get away from your perpetrator. I know I feared my father, the person who should have taken care of me, for many years, until the time I knew I could defend myself.
My only regret is that I never shared with him how much he hurt me with his actions. How much he damaged my trust. How much he instilled fear in my heart of him. I wish I would have told him what a pig I felt he was. I wish I could have asked him why. I wish I could have asked him in what part of his world, his brain, his rape of his daughters was okay. Because in mine, none of it was okay.
Unfortunately I will never have the chance to get an answer to this. Perhaps you can confront your perpetrator, with someone there to keep you safe, so that at least you can have a little bit of peace. Oh, it won’t make a difference having an answer because no matter what, their crime is inexcusable, but at least you would have had the chance to speak up. I never did and I wish I had. I am sorry that I let him go to his grave without having to answer to me.
Again, remember EVERY 73 SECONDS AN AMERICAN IS SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, and EVERY EIGHT MINUTES a child is becoming a victim. Help them. Help yourself. And may you find a little peace because no matter how you dealt with it you did the right thing at that moment. It was the best you could do at that time. Be strong, become an advocate. And speak out. Those are some ways to help. And now that I have brought you down a little remember every day is a day to make things a little better. For yourself, and for others as well. Peace to you today, and always.