My Journey
Since 2007, I have been doing research on Male survivors. I have also tried to gather resources both here at the University of Massachusetts of Boston as well as throughout the Greater Boston Area. But, as we know, these resources are lacking in numbers because they are not out there. When a young man is raped, it will usually go un-reported, why because he may feel guilty, shame, as well as thinking that it is his own fault, and also he may feel less than a man, so he keeps it a secret and may not tell anyone. October of 2007, I was honored to attend an International Conference in NYC at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. The theme of this conference was Relief, Recovery, and Restoration: Helping Men Heal from Sexual Abuse. At this conference I met professionals, educators, and survivors from all parts of the globe. This was the highlight of my life.
But for me my journey did not start there in NY, nor did it start when I came to UMass Boston. But for me my journey started about 44 years ago. For it was in the summer of 1963, John F. Kennedy was president and this country was at war; which was called the Cold War. But also, there was a six and a half year old boy was living in the SE section of Washington DC, in a small suburb called Anacostia. It was a summer day, the neighbors had gone away to the beach or have taken a drive to the Eastern Shore of Maryland or they have taken their summer vacations. I was sitting on the steps of the apartment building where we were living. My Mom was inside listening to the radio, or she was either in the kitchen making her famous fudge which I never got any, or just sitting down and doing her favorite pastime which was knitting. My Dad was working. I felt alone for me I had no brothers and sisters so I was hoping to find new friends. Then I saw two teenage boys walking up the street, and I said to myself, “Maybe new friends, and someone that I could talk to.” They were walking up the street and they noticed me and then they saw the swimming pool that was in the front yard, which was across the street. They went over towards the pool, so I turned around to see if Mom was peeking out the window, she was not so I sneaked across the street and hopefully to make some new friends. When I got there, they were talking and they looked at me. One of them which was standing close to me, looked down at me and said; “Boy I want some shit!” I did not understand, of what he was saying, but he repeated and louder; “Boy I want some shit!” Then I looked down and saw a gun at my side. The other one had noticed that there was a shed in the backyard, they told me to go in the back towards the shed, and the gun was still pointing at me. They also noticed it was unlock, they open the door and they told me to go in. I was afraid, I wanted to run but I was scared, I felt that the sky was turning black, and the sun had disappeared forever; for I was afraid I just wanted to run for my life. They shoved me in and the one that was holding the gun ordered me to take off my shorts and kneel down facing away from him. Then I felt the pain, I felt that the devil himself was inside me and the power of darkness had overshadowed me. He had given the gun to the other guy, and he told him if I would try to yell or tried to get away, to pull the trigger and shoot. I was afraid; every time I turned around I would see the guy with the gun just smiling at me, while the other one was behind me. When they were done, they told me to stay there for about 10 minutes, so I did. I tried to get up but I felt weak, I was in so much pain I just wanted to die. So I got up and got dress and tried to run as fast as I could towards home. I finally went in the apartment and went straight towards my room. I felt dirty, sick, and I was hurting. I stayed there and grab my teddy bear and just cried. I did not know what to do; I was told if I told anyone they would come back in shoot my Parents and I. So I did not tell anyone, I had kept this a secret for so many years and to try to live a normal life, for I felt ashamed and I did not know what to do.
For it is true, I never told anyone about that day, why because back then you did not talk about certain things. Most things were kept a secret, it was the 60’s and as a young boy you were taught to be tough, boys did not cry or even show your emotions, after all we are suppose to be men, for we are suppose to be strong. So, I kept it a secret, till years later when the news broke out about the sexual abuse scandal in the Catholic Church broke out in the news here in Boston and then it was in the everywhere. Then one night where I attend church, we were having a meeting about this scandal. As I was sitting there I would hear stories from friends of mine to tell how they were sexually abuse by priests, then I was starting to remember that day, and I was getting frustrated and then I decided to speak and finally say that I was attacked and raped by two teenage boys. I finally spoke out, I felt afraid but also a sense of relief. From that day forward, I knew I was not alone and I was not afraid anymore. This was even more confirming for me that I was not alone when I attended the conference this past October. Especially, when I attended a pre conference on the first day, it was a day long workshop headed by Mike Lew, but when I walked in that room and saw 27 other male survivors from different parts of the country, as well as from Great Britain to New Zealand, to Cambodia to Germany and to Greece. For then I knew that I was not alone in my struggle, that every time I would look up in the sky, that there this someone else from another part of the globe that is looking up towards the sky as well.
Since 2007, I have been doing research on Male survivors. I have also tried to gather resources both here at the University of Massachusetts of Boston as well as throughout the Greater Boston Area. But, as we know, these resources are lacking in numbers because they are not out there. When a young man is raped, it will usually go un-reported, why because he may feel guilty, shame, as well as thinking that it is his own fault, and also he may feel less than a man, so he keeps it a secret and may not tell anyone. October of 2007, I was honored to attend an International Conference in NYC at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. The theme of this conference was Relief, Recovery, and Restoration: Helping Men Heal from Sexual Abuse. At this conference I met professionals, educators, and survivors from all parts of the globe. This was the highlight of my life.
But for me my journey did not start there in NY, nor did it start when I came to UMass Boston. But for me my journey started about 44 years ago. For it was in the summer of 1963, John F. Kennedy was president and this country was at war; which was called the Cold War. But also, there was a six and a half year old boy was living in the SE section of Washington DC, in a small suburb called Anacostia. It was a summer day, the neighbors had gone away to the beach or have taken a drive to the Eastern Shore of Maryland or they have taken their summer vacations. I was sitting on the steps of the apartment building where we were living. My Mom was inside listening to the radio, or she was either in the kitchen making her famous fudge which I never got any, or just sitting down and doing her favorite pastime which was knitting. My Dad was working. I felt alone for me I had no brothers and sisters so I was hoping to find new friends. Then I saw two teenage boys walking up the street, and I said to myself, “Maybe new friends, and someone that I could talk to.” They were walking up the street and they noticed me and then they saw the swimming pool that was in the front yard, which was across the street. They went over towards the pool, so I turned around to see if Mom was peeking out the window, she was not so I sneaked across the street and hopefully to make some new friends. When I got there, they were talking and they looked at me. One of them which was standing close to me, looked down at me and said; “Boy I want some shit!” I did not understand, of what he was saying, but he repeated and louder; “Boy I want some shit!” Then I looked down and saw a gun at my side. The other one had noticed that there was a shed in the backyard, they told me to go in the back towards the shed, and the gun was still pointing at me. They also noticed it was unlock, they open the door and they told me to go in. I was afraid, I wanted to run but I was scared, I felt that the sky was turning black, and the sun had disappeared forever; for I was afraid I just wanted to run for my life. They shoved me in and the one that was holding the gun ordered me to take off my shorts and kneel down facing away from him. Then I felt the pain, I felt that the devil himself was inside me and the power of darkness had overshadowed me. He had given the gun to the other guy, and he told him if I would try to yell or tried to get away, to pull the trigger and shoot. I was afraid; every time I turned around I would see the guy with the gun just smiling at me, while the other one was behind me. When they were done, they told me to stay there for about 10 minutes, so I did. I tried to get up but I felt weak, I was in so much pain I just wanted to die. So I got up and got dress and tried to run as fast as I could towards home. I finally went in the apartment and went straight towards my room. I felt dirty, sick, and I was hurting. I stayed there and grab my teddy bear and just cried. I did not know what to do; I was told if I told anyone they would come back in shoot my Parents and I. So I did not tell anyone, I had kept this a secret for so many years and to try to live a normal life, for I felt ashamed and I did not know what to do.
For it is true, I never told anyone about that day, why because back then you did not talk about certain things. Most things were kept a secret, it was the 60’s and as a young boy you were taught to be tough, boys did not cry or even show your emotions, after all we are suppose to be men, for we are suppose to be strong. So, I kept it a secret, till years later when the news broke out about the sexual abuse scandal in the Catholic Church broke out in the news here in Boston and then it was in the everywhere. Then one night where I attend church, we were having a meeting about this scandal. As I was sitting there I would hear stories from friends of mine to tell how they were sexually abuse by priests, then I was starting to remember that day, and I was getting frustrated and then I decided to speak and finally say that I was attacked and raped by two teenage boys. I finally spoke out, I felt afraid but also a sense of relief. From that day forward, I knew I was not alone and I was not afraid anymore. This was even more confirming for me that I was not alone when I attended the conference this past October. Especially, when I attended a pre conference on the first day, it was a day long workshop headed by Mike Lew, but when I walked in that room and saw 27 other male survivors from different parts of the country, as well as from Great Britain to New Zealand, to Cambodia to Germany and to Greece. For then I knew that I was not alone in my struggle, that every time I would look up in the sky, that there this someone else from another part of the globe that is looking up towards the sky as well.
