Street Boys/Break Through
I had a major break through! But it takes some explaining...
There was a before and after the attempt to get me into the sex trade. In the after I was an angry punk. In high school I was a part time street kid. I never considered anything that happened afterwards abuse. I dipped into the game when I need. I became what they wanted me to be.
A week after I returned I made it to the streets to speak with an adult friend who was teaching me the ropes. As I told him what happened I became extremely angry and emotional. We were in an alley. He wanted me to keep my voice down so I didn’t attract the police. I desperately described how was choked, raped and the other things. The less he didn’t seem to get it the louder I became. When I stopped long enough to hear what he was saying I got “Brian, sometimes tricks go bad. It was just a bad trick”.
I got quite. I allowed him to dictate what I felt. Ok that wasn't hell, it was a bad trick, toughen up Brian.
Crimes against gay street kids were measured differently, if at all, back then. It’s easy to write off street boy/rent boys as trash. That’s what I felt like. That’s what I became. So what that I could have died. So what that I survived extreme danger. Once a threshold is passed the person isn't a person anymore.
That’s what I did for all these years, but I am seeing it differently now. The only adult to know what I went through shut me up to protect his fucking ass from the cops. He didn’t want them to see he was talking to a kid. He could have gone to the authorities, but I was just a street kid and he was a man protecting his titillation. Hell he could have told me to talk to the authorities. Or he could have counseled me to tell my parents. Fuck he could have held me and let me cry it out.
It was not a bad trick. It was intense and extreme, it would have been traumatic to a grown man, let alone a terrified 15 year old boy.
There was a before and after the attempt to get me into the sex trade. In the after I was an angry punk. In high school I was a part time street kid. I never considered anything that happened afterwards abuse. I dipped into the game when I need. I became what they wanted me to be.
A week after I returned I made it to the streets to speak with an adult friend who was teaching me the ropes. As I told him what happened I became extremely angry and emotional. We were in an alley. He wanted me to keep my voice down so I didn’t attract the police. I desperately described how was choked, raped and the other things. The less he didn’t seem to get it the louder I became. When I stopped long enough to hear what he was saying I got “Brian, sometimes tricks go bad. It was just a bad trick”.
I got quite. I allowed him to dictate what I felt. Ok that wasn't hell, it was a bad trick, toughen up Brian.
Crimes against gay street kids were measured differently, if at all, back then. It’s easy to write off street boy/rent boys as trash. That’s what I felt like. That’s what I became. So what that I could have died. So what that I survived extreme danger. Once a threshold is passed the person isn't a person anymore.
That’s what I did for all these years, but I am seeing it differently now. The only adult to know what I went through shut me up to protect his fucking ass from the cops. He didn’t want them to see he was talking to a kid. He could have gone to the authorities, but I was just a street kid and he was a man protecting his titillation. Hell he could have told me to talk to the authorities. Or he could have counseled me to tell my parents. Fuck he could have held me and let me cry it out.
It was not a bad trick. It was intense and extreme, it would have been traumatic to a grown man, let alone a terrified 15 year old boy.

