As I navigate the complexities of motherhood, I find myself confronting the shadows of my past experiences with childhood sexual abuse. Now, as a mother to a daughter, these feelings have become even more pronounced.
“Mom, can I wear some make-up?”
While I want to tell her she’s stunning just as she is, I reply, “Of course, sweetie, what’s the harm?” Internally, though, I wrestle with concepts of beauty, sexuality, and safety, pondering how these will unfold in her life. There’s an urge to say no, to protect her from anything that might sexualize her. The fear of attracting harmful attention weighs heavily on me, even though I know that predators often lurk in familiar places, rather than out in the open.
At my daughter’s age, I was already viewed as a sexual object by someone. Now, I understand that it wasn’t about my appearance but rather the vulnerability that was present. It’s a stark reminder that it’s not the child’s looks that matter, but how susceptible she is to exploitation.
Do other women feel a sinking feeling when they hear a man compliment their daughter’s beauty? For me, it takes me back to that terrified ten-year-old girl, wondering if this “good” man will turn out to be like those who have harmed me. But now, it’s about my daughter’s safety, the overwhelming desire to shield her from becoming a target, just as I once was.
I could be mistaken about the intentions of the man who complimented her at the barbecue, but when that unsettling feeling arises, I take notice. It’s not something I feel every time a man is around us, but when it does, I trust my instincts. Whether it’s a neighbor, her best friend’s father, or even a family member, I won’t allow her to be in a position to be groomed.
Teaching my daughter to recognize her intuition is crucial. We refer to it as her “uh-oh” feeling, a concept introduced to me by a school social worker during my internship. I want her to embrace this feeling rather than fear it, to understand that it’s a signal to listen to.
The toughest moments come when those irrational fears creep in, like when my husband helps her shower or plays with her. I have to remind myself that despite what statistics suggest, I will not perpetuate the cycle of abuse—neither as a victim nor as a perpetrator. I strive to pull myself out of the dark thoughts that sometimes cloud my judgment during innocent moments.
In my search for narratives that capture the experience of motherhood as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I realized how silent many survivors remain. The shame often keeps us quiet, but we need to discuss the resurfacing effects of trauma when we become mothers. This conversation is vital for raising healthy, confident girls.