When I was just a child, around 7 or 8 years old, I knew instinctively that what was happening was wrong. Yet, I didn’t stop it. I remained silent as his hands crept beneath my shorts, right there under the blanket, in front of my grandparents. When he whispered, “Does it feel good?” I nodded. When he asked, “You won’t tell anyone, right?” I shook my head. For weeks, I kept his secret, inadvertently encouraging him with my silence.
It was the nightmares that ultimately revealed the truth. My mother, sensing something was amiss, played twenty questions to uncover what had transpired. “Taylor, what is it? Did someone touch you? Was it J___?” She didn’t hesitate to call him at 2 a.m., ready to defend me fiercely: “If you ever lay a hand on my daughter again, I will CUT YOUR BALLS OFF.” But despite the threat, he was family, and the secret was tightly sealed away, as these types of secrets often are. I still encountered him at family gatherings, and thankfully, my mom’s words seemed to deter him from trying again.
To be clear, I didn’t believe it was his fault. He was just a confused teenager. However, the shame I carried was heavy. While no one shamed me directly, the feeling that I didn’t act to stop him has lingered. I often find myself justifying his actions, questioning why I didn’t push him away or shout for help sooner. This shame manifests in ways I can’t even articulate, and I know I’m not alone in this struggle. Society’s ridiculous double standards can lead anyone to grapple with their own shame, even when they have nothing to be ashamed of.
I wonder if exposing my abuser would have changed anything, or if receiving proper support would have helped. Maybe I’m just prone to these feelings of shame. But no, that’s not right. I was not created for shame. I wasn’t meant for secrets or silence. And neither is anyone else.
Can we enact change? Can we revolutionize how family abuse cases are approached? I hate to say we should “make an example” of these individuals, as it sounds harsh. But let’s be frank: we need to take a stand. We must send a clear message to boys and men: No, you may NOT. Keep your hands to yourself. That girl is a human being. When you touch her, you take something from her that cannot be given back. You alter her life forever. Her silence is NOT consent. A timid “yes” is NOT consent. She is merely a child. HANDS TO YOURSELF. The girl you’re targeting is A PERSON. I emphasize this because it’s crucial.
To all girls and women: This is not a secret you must carry. You have no duty to protect your abuser. Speak out. Expose him. Live without shame.
And to parents and authority figures: It’s time to stop allowing boys to harm girls without consequence. A few weeks of hard labor on uncle so-and-so’s farm isn’t sufficient (I’m looking at you, Duggars). Protecting abusers, regardless of age, is unacceptable. It’s crucial to keep the victim safe from her abuser. Show her that she matters. Remind her that this is not merely an event that happened to her; it is something that was DONE TO her. She is blameless, regardless of how many times she nodded or how long she held onto the secret. She has NOTHING to feel ashamed of.
Yes, I wrote that even as I wrestle with my own thick fog of shame. His name was Gary. What was your abuser’s name? #CallHimOut
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