Seeking others who were publicly abused


In talking about my need to be public with my story, I realized I also need to connect with others who share the public aspect of the abuse.

I was assaulted by another boy in kindergarten in the schoolyard. Everyone was gathered waiting for the buses to take them home. It was shame and humiliation that really affected me.

If you were abused in front of others I would like to talk with you.

Thank you


I was publicly bullied and shamed when I was in middle school. It was a gang bullying. We would have to change rooms for class, and this gang would be at the door that I had to enter and start mocking, jeering and humiliating me, in front of everybody. This went on for two years. EVERY DAY FOR TWO YEARS.

Nobody did anything. Nobody intervened. I did have a few friends that tried to comfort me by saying things like "don't pay attention to them, they are jealous of you because you are intelligent" Of course that didn't help at all. I just figured I had to suck it up and endure it. None of the teachers lifted a finger to intervene. Boys will be boys, right? Riiiiiiight....

It felt like an emotional gang-rape to me. When I told this to my T, he seemed shocked that I would describe it in such violent terms, but this is exactly the way I felt. Oh, also I recall being pinched and fondled during this as well, so I have a most valid good reason to feel that way. Today it would have been considered sexual assault. I most definitely felt violated. (BTW, my first language is Spanish, and the word "violacion" usually means "rape", so my using the English word "violated" is no accident). That's how I felt. Because that's what it was. A psychological gang-rape. In public. In front of my friends. In front of the teachers. Nobody did anything to stop it.


Sorry my response is cursory. I am extremely affected reading it.
I saw it hours ago, and I am afraid how angry I am, how desperate, how dark.
I am so sorry you went through that nightmare.


I understand, Bri, and thanks! I'm not sure if you got triggered reading this, if so, I regret not thinking about putting up a trigger warning, my bad, I'm sorry you got upset reading my post. Thanks for the empathy.

That was probably the worst form of abuse I endured, the others were significant but two full years of this torment sure did a number on me.
The good news is that I'm sill here. I got through it and I refuse to quit fighting because I don't want those bullies to win.

Please take care of yourself, again, my apologies for not issuing the warning, as you know I've been too depressed lately to think clearly.




No apology needed.
There was something you said that touched or opened feelings I rarely deal with.
On a much smaller scale I was bullied in High School. It wasn't severe, but each instance took me back to being in kindergarden. I survived by becoming a storm on the inside...the inner noise was louder then reality...I pretty much "left the scene".


Hey Bri

It guess I was sort of abused. I actually just thought of some more stuff now. In junior school someone swung me around at camp and my pants came down - I was an unwilling participant. I got put in a dustbin is final year. I got pushed over by an older "friend" for being annoying - it hurt my back actually. In final year I was hung by a group of classmates over the railing at the pool. Someone called me a nerd in front of the class in a really mean way and the teacher intervened. A teacher had a go at me in front of the class making out I didn't do sport and she said do you think walking in the corridor and up the stairs to class is exercise? My stepmother punched me in front of her family. My friend told me since fairly recently I got "clothes-raped" I mean guys coming up behind you and humping you from behind - I don't remember. And there is other stuff I do remember and I'm really not comfortable talking about it. I have forgotten a lot of the stuff - which is odd because I have a decent memory.


I felt bad at high school when I did nothing to stop bullies from doing the kind of things you experienced. My own abuse at a previous school had left me cold and emotionless and afraid to stand up for myself, let alone others.

Although I was abused by my father for 10 years until I was 15, it was the abuse by a teenager in the middle of this that caused me the greatest social difficulties. He was big and strong, 7 years older than me and someone I thought I would like. After staying with his family for a few months I had become terrified of him. At the same time just being near him made me aware of his physical presence, but fear did not take over when we were not alone. One evening he was walking in the park with a group of his friends and found me on my own. He told me to go with them and since there were 5 boys I knew I could not escape. They took me to a quiet part of the graveyard and he pulled off my clothes, then started raping me. It was the remaining boys watching me that made me acutely aware of my erection and I was soon feeling humiliated. They formed a rough line and took turns punching me fairly hard in the body. I wanted it to stop, but they just kept joking about my erection and told me how much I was liking it. Sometime after I started sobbing and begging them to stop he pulled out of me and the punching stopped. He came round in front and told me to do the same thing to him. I had by then become extremely afraid about what they might do next and I was unable to obey him.

They let me go and I pulled my clothes on, feeling in pain all over. I walked home the back way, afraid of meeting anyone, especially the builders on the site near to where I lived. I went into shock fairly quickly and my memory of the day was soon suppressed in favour of invented memories. I can see this now, but at the time I just felt confused at my behaviour and the perceived behaviour of my parents. When I was around other people anxiety became the norm and around older boys panic would take over. This was especially bad when I was near any of the group who had taken part in terrorising me. School became a nightmare for me and I was frequently watched and sometimes approached by one or more of these boys. One of them never spoke to me, rather took hold of me with one hand and started punching hard with the other.

We soon left the town and moved a long way off, which was the best thing that could have happened to me at that time. My father may have realized that something really bad had happened after he was called home. However, I actively kept the bruises hidden because I felt they betrayed the abuse, together with my guilty feelings and shame. My father continued abusing me and my PTSD and flashbacks continued, getting very intrusive by the time I was 15, after the abuse stopped.


I have forgotten a lot of the stuff - which is odd because I have a decent memory.
I don't think it's odd at all. Just a way of protecting you. In a way it's similar to my inability to tell my story in chronological order, try as I may, chucks just went missing.


I’m sorry that was so much of your young life.

I am having a hard time reading these posts. Part of what I thought I wanted was to hear how it affected other guys. But just like LoneWolf’s memory, I had to re-read this a number of times to see that is exactly what you wrote.
There were times that it was a group of boys making us younger boys undress and perform on them or with each other, many times it was an older boy and me and my friend the same age having to perform on him and with each other. Had 2 or more older boys take turns with me all together at the same time watching or participating.

Yes, a great deal of it was public. While the step-dad and the stranger kept everything secret and hidden, the peers, a gang of bullies, did everything in the open – or at least in the presence of spectators.

I think the first time was in 5th grade when they grabbed me in a rest room full of boys and stripped me and ridiculed me. (I was an early bloomer and unusually developed for my age and average stature.)

The next instance was in scouts as part of an “initiation” on a campout when I was dragged out of my tent and stripped and forcibly masturbated in the presence of a group. I dissociated and woke up at dawn covered in the cold products of a circle jerk.

The most traumatic though, was similar to PRFL’s story – daily harassment at school in the locker room, the halls and even in class. Sometimes it was “only” verbal: name-calling, suggestive comments, intrusively personal questions. Sometimes it was verbal plus physical: pushing, tripping, jostling, being thrown against a wall or lockers, books and stuff knocked out of my arms or off the desk. Sometimes it was surrounding or cornering me while I was changing or showering and touching or stimulating me to try to get me erect so they could mock even more.

Once I was gang groped on a school bus during a field trip.

It was a nightmare for the last month or so of 5th grade, all of 6th and 7th, and the summers in between. I had to steel myself each day to walk out of my house and enter the minefields, always on guard, always hyper-aware that they could strike at any moment. And no one did anything to stop it. All the decent kids were afraid to intervene for fear of being another target. I don’t know why the adults did nothing. It was not exactly a secret that I was the scapegoat. Only the fact that my family moved away at the end of 7th grade kept me from ending the abuse by ending my own life.

I believe that the public nature of the humiliation and shame resulted in an overwhelming sense of being inferior and destroved my self-esteem and confidence.


Jacob S

When I was in eighth grade (I remember things spacially and I used the same locker room both years), there were a group of boys that were still little kids and a few that physically could pass as adults. That's how eigth grade is, you got your "twerps" and you got practically grown guys with mustaches and biceps who tower over their peers. They ruled the locker room and made dressing out for gym a daily horror. One kid would follow me from the moment I went into the locker room, walking behind me so close that he was actually physically pushing me. He was basically on top of me. He'd loudly talk about how he's looking forward to watching me undress. His buddies would laugh. When I took off my shirt, he'd pinch my nipples and talk about how pretty I was. Tell me I got fine breasts and that I would make a good girlfriend.


I had confused myself and posted this as a rely in another thread on 3/26/19

Guys, while the board was down I started to write what it did to me. In doing it I came to a profound realization, I am ready not to be alone anymore.
I don’t need to be a part from other men any longer.
I never needed to learn how to be a guy, I was.
I was the one, keeping me a part.
I am ready to belong.

The Assault ***TRIGGERS***
This is what I experienced.

I didn’t understand much as it was happening. I was in kindergarten. I was instantly in shock the moment he landed on top of me. As I scrambled my wits together I wasted time on questions, “Why? What?”

I was rarely touched, certainly not by another boy. I had never been in a fight. Fighting broke hardened, fast rules. How could boys fight, when it is forbidden for them to touch each other?

His glee was alien. He enjoyed hurting me. There was no place to put that in my little Disney soaked world.

That he touched his fly in public shattered a billion notions of right and wrong. Opening it, showing the white of his underwear blew past everything that had been ingrained into me.\ Then pulling it out. You only did that to pee.
Rubbing it in my face.
Demanding I put it in my mouth.
I finally broke through the questioning confusion…”No!”

Consciousness recoiled and slammed me when he jumped off of me. As relieved as I was, there was a degree of magnified exposure. I was exposed a thousand times over. When he was grinding his crotch into my face, at least I couldn’t be seen. How was that better than this raw nakedness? With him not lording over me, I could now be seen from all sides. Nothing was hiding my face, my body, my stance. I wanted to be covered, I wanted not to be there.

I was flash frozen and brittle, movement felt like I would shatter. The chill was hyper real, exaggerated and hard to breath through. That I stood without cracking baffled me.

Shame suffocated my reason, reached back in time and perverted who I was. I was the peculiar thing standing there, And always was.

My face suddenly had feelings attached to it, ugly, hideous My body was pathetic. Words, descriptions were slapped onto my awareness of myself

With all those kids around I was cut off and completely alone. A part from, isolated
One of my abusers got a kick out of touching me inappropriately in public. In large crowds he would back up against me and feel me, play with me, put his hands in my pants. To this day I hate crowds: zoo, stadium, concerts, shows.. any place that has lots of people or where people need to be in your space to get in or out of their seats. It took me until I was 53 to admit this hatred of groups to my wife. I get physically sick when she just mentions wanting to go somewhere like this..