Confronting the Past with Community
Having been away from New York for four months, I am returning for a week from South America. In addition to a job interview, there are two main reasons for this visit. I have set up a meeting with former classmates and parents to discuss the abuse that went undiscovered (in many ways, unlooked for) during my last two and a half years of high school. I am also meeting with the principal (who was not principal while I was a student) of the school.
Five years ago, I began discussing my experiences with my therapist. Over this time, I have disclosed to my parents and closest friends, I have asked myself so many questions, examined the destruction that the abuse wrought on my life, but I have not until now, until this upcoming meeting, brought what happened out into the community. At this meeting will be people who know something about what happened and people who are now just learning through the invitation. In addition to telling my story and opening up a forum for a conversation that is years overdue, a major topic is the fact that the perpetrator, although fired from my school, is now teaching at another. This is unacceptable to me. Nonetheless, I refuse to take the burden of this public danger solely upon my shoulders. The communitys absence from my life (despite certain flashing neon warning signs) played an enabling role in the abuse, and I believe it is the communitys responsibility to come together and protect my home citys youth.
As to the meeting with my principal, a main topic will be discussing how someone is still teaching at my high school who had complete knowledge of my abuse, assisted the perpetrator in maintaining secrecy, assisted the perpetrator in manipulating me, and made a pass at me. I also plan to start exploring how it could have gone undetected for so long, why the school never took steps to investigate what was going on. I also hope to explore the possibility of breaking down some of my phobias regarding the school and restoring my relationship, at least in some ways.
So thats the real world action stuff. I want to be careful not to over-emphasize focus on these two individual perps. Yes, I demand that they be held accountable, but I am whats important here. I have held these secrets for so many years, suffered to control what people could and could not know, and I have finally gotten to the point where I know that I deserve the support of my community. I am tired of the secrets. I hunger for honesty. So far I have been lucky enough to have my honesty responded to only with love and compassion, and I hope and believe this will continue in New York. Nonetheless, I am prepared for negative reactions as well. What is important is that people know, that I feel confidence in talking about my past, the bad and good.
This brings me to one of the underlying points of this post and the upcoming visit. I refuse to hold my silence any longer. A disclaimer: I am by no means recommending my course of action, and I have been reminded repeatedly by friends and two different professionals that the path I am following could be risky. That being said, the greatest victimizing force I felt both through the abuse itself and the aftermath was the compulsive, life-or-death need for silence. I suffered for years completely alone, passionately terrified of anyone finding out. And the community fell into the comfortable cocoon of ignorance and passivity. Yes, I am afraid of being ridiculed, not believed, talked about negatively behind my back, but I think I am finding that (a) these fears are not so well founded in the practical reality of New York thinking and (b) that these fearful feelings pale in comparison to pain suffered by people who are utterly alone (or at least feel that way) in dealing with their abuse. It is particularly important to me to let men (young and old) know that there is a light at the end of the pain. Good sex with a loving partner, self-confidence, passion, the ability to concentrate on important tasks, making and keeping friends are things that are all possible, even though it sometimes feels like existence is pure suffering. I just believe that people need to know that this shit happens to men, even the ones who seem so successful, that it can tear a life apart, but that it is not a death sentence: Recovery, particularly with the help of a professional, is possible, real, and wonderful. But when alls said and done, its just really nice to get a hug and hear the words, Im sorry.
With great love,
Josh
Five years ago, I began discussing my experiences with my therapist. Over this time, I have disclosed to my parents and closest friends, I have asked myself so many questions, examined the destruction that the abuse wrought on my life, but I have not until now, until this upcoming meeting, brought what happened out into the community. At this meeting will be people who know something about what happened and people who are now just learning through the invitation. In addition to telling my story and opening up a forum for a conversation that is years overdue, a major topic is the fact that the perpetrator, although fired from my school, is now teaching at another. This is unacceptable to me. Nonetheless, I refuse to take the burden of this public danger solely upon my shoulders. The communitys absence from my life (despite certain flashing neon warning signs) played an enabling role in the abuse, and I believe it is the communitys responsibility to come together and protect my home citys youth.
As to the meeting with my principal, a main topic will be discussing how someone is still teaching at my high school who had complete knowledge of my abuse, assisted the perpetrator in maintaining secrecy, assisted the perpetrator in manipulating me, and made a pass at me. I also plan to start exploring how it could have gone undetected for so long, why the school never took steps to investigate what was going on. I also hope to explore the possibility of breaking down some of my phobias regarding the school and restoring my relationship, at least in some ways.
So thats the real world action stuff. I want to be careful not to over-emphasize focus on these two individual perps. Yes, I demand that they be held accountable, but I am whats important here. I have held these secrets for so many years, suffered to control what people could and could not know, and I have finally gotten to the point where I know that I deserve the support of my community. I am tired of the secrets. I hunger for honesty. So far I have been lucky enough to have my honesty responded to only with love and compassion, and I hope and believe this will continue in New York. Nonetheless, I am prepared for negative reactions as well. What is important is that people know, that I feel confidence in talking about my past, the bad and good.
This brings me to one of the underlying points of this post and the upcoming visit. I refuse to hold my silence any longer. A disclaimer: I am by no means recommending my course of action, and I have been reminded repeatedly by friends and two different professionals that the path I am following could be risky. That being said, the greatest victimizing force I felt both through the abuse itself and the aftermath was the compulsive, life-or-death need for silence. I suffered for years completely alone, passionately terrified of anyone finding out. And the community fell into the comfortable cocoon of ignorance and passivity. Yes, I am afraid of being ridiculed, not believed, talked about negatively behind my back, but I think I am finding that (a) these fears are not so well founded in the practical reality of New York thinking and (b) that these fearful feelings pale in comparison to pain suffered by people who are utterly alone (or at least feel that way) in dealing with their abuse. It is particularly important to me to let men (young and old) know that there is a light at the end of the pain. Good sex with a loving partner, self-confidence, passion, the ability to concentrate on important tasks, making and keeping friends are things that are all possible, even though it sometimes feels like existence is pure suffering. I just believe that people need to know that this shit happens to men, even the ones who seem so successful, that it can tear a life apart, but that it is not a death sentence: Recovery, particularly with the help of a professional, is possible, real, and wonderful. But when alls said and done, its just really nice to get a hug and hear the words, Im sorry.
With great love,
Josh