“If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse one.” – Spotlight
“The vocal minority” is a common, troubling saying we have in America. I’d like to explore the other side of the coin: the silent majority. As a society, we’re unable to hold suffering or the reality of atrocities committed within our borders. One has only to mention #MeToo or “Black Lives Matter” to discover this. Most often, this manifests as silence. In moments when we’re not silent, we focus on victim credibility or the heinousness of a perpetrators’ acts, both of which allow us to escape suffering. I’d like to turn the lens around. As a survivor of complex childhood trauma, I write to disrupt our silence.
Will you step into discomfort with me and not turn away from hard truths?
My journey toward healing has revealed deep, ugly truths I didn’t want to know—and society doesn’t either. One of these regards our cultural belief that pedophiles act in isolation. Every fiber of me wanted to believe this because it allowed me to overlook how profoundly family, community, and society had failed and betrayed me. Similarly, if society believes perpetrators act alone, we don’t have to step into how we have failed and betrayed victims.
As I tease out this myth, quickly and briefly, will you allow yourself to see the little girl I was?
Perpetrators pick children who are relationally hungry, to whom there is easy access, without exception. It’s easy to dismiss a child as needy, but this need stems from their family of origin and community failing to provide the basic love, care, and undivided attention necessary. The second element, easy access, requires that family, community, and society fail to provide protection. For a wolf to carry off a sheep, the sheep must be in the open field, with no shepherd watching, an unrepaired gap in the fence, and no attentive neighbors.
Perpetrators often hold high respect. This is no accident. They groom children, families, communities, and even society. Without this umbrella of protection, they cannot operate. They require public incredulity and silence to rape children. An illustration of this is USA Gymnastics protecting Larry Nassar, who, over fourteen years, abused countless gymnasts. If they’d acted on first indication, many girls would have been spared. Nassar needed USA Gymnastics to molest gymnasts.
Let’s back it up further. Coach Bélla Károlyi knew about Nassar’s abuse, and he did nothing. And Károlyi’s gym barred parents from visiting. So, parents had to be willing to send their young daughters to a gym where they had no oversight for hours every day—for months or years.
But it’s more complicated. A child is not abused without there being signs. There is always a trail. Are family and community attuned? Able to gently inquire? If told, will they believe? Act to protect? Create safety and repair? These gymnasts were failed by family, teachers, coaches, trainers, USA Gymnastics, and the investigators who never investigated, not just Nassar.
I wish I could tell you this is an isolated case, but it isn’t. Many families and communities aren’t attuned or, worse, are complicit or perpetrators, and society hasn’t been any better.
Children are blamed and dismissed by, “We didn’t know,” or, “If only you’d told…” As protectors of the vulnerable, this is not okay. What if I told you the behaviors, symptoms, and personality changes were a child’s scream for help. Or that many children are silenced by serious threats. Would you see differently? We must humble ourselves to ask: “How did we not know?” What in our relationship wasn’t safe for this child to tell? Or did she try, and we missed it? What did we miss? Why?
Until we can own our failures, we cannot change as a society.
It’s easy to point a finger at a victim or a perpetrator but hard to take an honest look at ourselves. But we must. Predators do not act alone. They act within the protection of family, community, and society. One has only to look as far as Jeffrey Epstein, Michael Jackson, Jerry Sandusky, Harvey Weinstein, and the Catholic Church to see this.
The truth is—we don’t want to know because it would shift our worldview and disrupt our sense of safety and equilibrium. We want to believe it won’t happen again, but the truth is one serial pedophile harms as many as 400 children. We don’t want to know because it asks us to know our own stories and see where we’ve been silent and how we’ve harmed, and then, it demands action.
If I sound angry, it’s because I was missed. My community and society chose not to attune, see, or act on all the ways I told them, and silently screamed for help. Please. See the children around you. Listen to their cries for help. Disrupt the silence. In the words of Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, “Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
Marín has begun a long journey toward healing from complex trauma, and invites you to be a part of her archaeological pilgrimage through the truths she’s only beginning to know herself. Through tears she’s starting to find beauty again in life, writing, artistic expression, adventure, curiosity, community, spirituality, and bringing goodness to her body. More than anything, she treasures her time with her husband and their adored four-footed friend. Marín cherishes being part of the Red Tent community and to free her to share the rawness of her soul with you, she requests anonymity.
Your story resonates with me, and I thank you for writing this. I felt invisible as a child, and I was baffled by the complicity of the adults around me in the trauma I experienced. As an adult, I vowed to intervene when I witnessed abuse, and I have called the police numerous times when I suspected abuse in neighbors’ homes. I am still finding my voice in speaking my truth to closed systems that enable abuse; my voice gets stronger and stronger every year. All the best on your healing journey.
Dear Madeline,
You are so welcome. I wrote it for both of us, as I needed to hear it too. Thank you for saying something–here in reply to what I wrote, and for the children and families you have encountered over the years. The world needs more people like you, so much more.
Your story is my story. Thank you from the bottom of my soul for sharing this.
Dear Jessica,
You are so, so welcome. Your comment touched me. Thank you for being one of two people who chose to take the time to respond to my piece–and for it being such a kind comment.
Thank you for the bravery you showed in sharing your story! It is my story as well…and, I would suspect it is the story of many who read today. I’m sorry you were not seen as a little girl and hopeful that you will begin to know you are seen and respected now, I heard you today and I believe you!
Kaye, thank you for your blessings on my writing. That this is your story, also, brings tears to my heart. So many of us have suffered so very much. I hope my writing freed you of some of the shame that was never yours to bear.
Marín,
Tears filled my eyes the whole time I read this. To be able to write from this place takes a great deal or personal work and courage. You are so very gifted and have labored so hard. It is clear how you have fought for your healing.
“ My journey toward healing has revealed deep, ugly truths I didn’t want to know”. I felt that in my body as I read it. I’m so sorry you had to learn those truths.
I feel like I want you to be my best friend and to stand by and cheer as you continue to do good hard work. Whenever I read your writing I feel great hope and despair as I read. That is a gift as a writer. Thank you for penning this for yourself and for me.
Thank you Amy, your words touched me deeply. Thank you for your desire to be there to cheer me on–it was both sweet and precious to me.