Street Kids / Street Life

[i-m-Bri]

I’ve been thinking about my immediate post rape life. I was 15. Though I had sex with full grown men after the rape, I didn’t think of any of those instances as abuse. I hustled when I needed money, usually when the night got to long and I needed to eat or cigarettes.. I never thought of myself as a “street kid” even though I spent a lot of time cruising. I always had a home even if it was 7 miles away and I didn’t have a car.

After the rape I had my back up, but it wasn’t until much later I realized how dangerous hitchhiking and tricking was. I feel immensely lucky to have survived. And I am so sad for the boys who didn’t. That's been really poignant.

Are there any other survivors with similar experiences? I recently started corresponding with one man. Though our histories are extremely different, because of time and place (early 70’s, NYC) I feel an intense kinship with him.

 

[dac]

Hey BDD, my story has some crossover with yours. My abuse happened over a period of years until I was in the 6th grade or so. That was followed by continued dysfunction in my family, and my siblings and I continuing the abuse, in a way, after the primary abusers were no longer in the picture. As soon as I could I became a junkie and bounced around for a few years, letting others (mainly men) abuse me if they took care of me or gave me a place to stay. I did a lot of hitching around, really took a lot of dangerous chances. I never thought of myself as a prostitute, but it wasn't far off. My preference was more to steal than to to have sex, if possible.

It is all pretty crazy, looking back at it now. I could easily have been killed off in a number of ways, numerous times. Like you, BDD, this was in the 72-75 time period. The difference is you had a home; I was really on my own, an abused kid with a monkey on his back. At least I had enough sense not to do a lot of things people tried to get me to do. I was really scared of going to jail or prison, although it is probably just dumb luck I didn't end up there. I also had a bit of a knack when it came to talking myself out of bad situations.

It was a pretty shitty way to live, which even I could realize at the time. It took a while to shake the whole needles thing, and I met a couple of true friends who gave me a foundation to stand on, making it possible to at least attempt to get it together. The 70s were pretty much a blur.

Funny thing is I am almost nostalgic when I look back on it now, and remember "fun" times. I feel like I wouldn't trade my past, because it made me who I am, in the same way my CSA has formed me into the person I have become. I don't want it any other way. I went through a lot of hell, but the end product is all kinds of awesome. I became a librarian, for god's sake! Few back then would have predicted that.

It's probably the art that saved the day in my case. Even when the abuse and beatings were at their worst, or when I found myself strung out in some ditch somewhere, without a friend in the world, I still had my artist identity. I still have it!

I am glad you survived BDD!

 

[oic]

.

 

[i-m-Bri]

dac,

I am gladd you survived too!

Librarian! In 5th grade I thought that was the coolest thing (I was really compulsive) No one back then said I was"dyslexic", just "I couldn't spell for shit". Obviously not a great candidate for your job.

I know what you mean about your past forming you. For me, I think I would have eventually discovered my strengths, but I'll never know. What I do know is they showed up when I was pressed against. And I am glad to have them available when I need them.

For me there is something fundamental about creating that looks to the future, even though it is so consuming here and now. Does that make sense? Making is about hope. If it weren't for working on countless plays I would have spent way more time on the streets.

 

[i-m-Bri]

oic,

Glad you had the smarts to look beyond your guidance councilor's suggestion.

He used me & I liked it? Maybe. Idk? But it was better than abandonment & brutal violence.

For me, it's a bewildering thing. Now, if I knew a 15 year old was being used I'd identify without hesitation as abuse. But when I look at my history, I don't think of it that way.

I guess I'm trying to work this out. I wasn't vengeful when I did it, but maybe in my middle class way, passive aggressive, I never satisfied any one. Told 'em flat out before hand it won't happen...they can try and it will still cost them. I wasn't nasty about it. But looking back I wonder if I did all of that sex as a big fuck you. Shitty thing was I was shut down even if I was with someone I liked. I'm glad that is changing.

Yeah, we were all very fortunate to have escaped with our lives & what few marbles we may have left...

It does feel like an escape. There were doors I could have so easily have chosen, but didn't. It feels like luck, not smarts.

 

[oic]

.

 

[Can_I_Do_This]

You guys have shared some amazing and, frankly, scary experiences when you were such young guys. I never started "acting out" with older men until I was in my mid '20s, I was way too chickenshit.

A part of me wishes I could have experienced NYC in the '70s, it must have been wild.

Glad you guys escaped!

 

[dac]

I guess I was lucky.. when I told my therapist that she laughed really loud! Nobody with my history could be called lucky! Even so, I was pretty fortunate in some ways, but my survival was largely due to inner strength which I didn't realize I had, and the fact that for some reason I never gave up hope on myself, although the rest of the world had given up on me.

 

[Can_I_Do_This]

Dac, as long as I'm around I will never give up hope for you. You deserve nothing but the absolute best this life has to offer. It's never too late until it's too late, you know?

 

[dac]

I am glad you are in my corner, CIDT!

Actually, at this point in my life, I have more hope than I ever had. Things are going pretty well, overall. My understanding, acceptance and love of self has never been better. I have other challenges to deal with, unrelated to CSA, that cause a lot of stress and worry, but that is just what it is. No matter what comes at me, I am far better prepared to deal with it, coming as I am from a place of strength and self-knowledge.

 

[i-m-Bri]

I started working on this today with my T. He knows about my post rape life, but we’ve never talked about it. He said and I agreed that it was in response to the rape. He said something profound; it only started to end last year (when I experienced touch finally positively)

I don’t know why now, decades later, I am viscerally horrified at how dangerous it was. Is it my newly acquired ability to see myself more compassionately? I don’t know.

Somethings brewing and I am not sure what it is. I’ve read so many horrible stories of boys disappearing. We didn’t. I think that is why I started this post. I wanted to hear from the survivors. Thank you for sharing. I need to process and be. Do we owe anything for surviving? I don’t know if I am in debt, but I can give back. First by standing strong and honest.

I felt so strong a few weeks ago when I “came out” as a survivor on Facebook. Now here, looking at this, I feel a bit lost. But not really. I think I was in a bit on a denial about the double life I lead in High School; Technical Theater Geek and a kid acting out on the streets and parks.

So for me. I survived in a cage of rage through my early 20s. When that dissipated I was hunched over, a ball of shame. Last year, I stood up straight, equal to another man.

Sorry, I know I am rambling. Thanks for giving me space.

 

[dac]

I love to hear about your story, Bri, and am proud of your strength and openness. You are right about how much danger we were in, even though we may not have realized how much. I was really lost as a youth, emotionally stunted, in so much psychological pain I could not understand, only squelch.

Do we owe anything for surviving? I don't know, I never thought about it in that way, exactly. Since I have faced my past and begun to really own my story, I want to help and support other survivors. I have started having good, substantial discussions with some of my siblings about what we went through, and what we did. For so many years, decades, it was all buried under thick blankets of shame, and only now are the coverings getting pulled back. It is an uplifting feeling when the shame drops away.

My youth is like my abuse, it simply is. It happened, it was horrible, nothing can change it. I am not ever again going to be ashamed of it, or beat myself up over it, or despise myself for it, or pretend it never happened. Which makes me think now that, no, we don't owe anything for surviving. We may have been hurting, but we did what we had to do to survive, and survive we did! We should be proud of our strength, resilience and will to live, even though we were not trained or prepared to endure what we went through.

I like it when you say you stood up straight, equal to another man. That is a beautiful victory. You are equal to any man!

 

[i-m-Bri]

dac,
That was my childhood! I didn't understand, just hurt like hell and I turned it on me.

You're right all we owe is to survive. Thank you.

It took 57 years to feel equal. The man i was with knew it was a big deal, whichmade it even cooler