labour of lacey

Robert Frank Untitled (Children with Sparklers in Provincetown)  1958

I’m going to tell a vague story here. 

As a child, I was molested for years. The majority of my childhood honestly. I never reported until two years after he moved away. And I was forced into it because I’d told a friend, and that friend had gone to the school. 

That case actually got re-opened a few years back and just recently ended. 

I was sexually assaulted by a “friend” as an adult. I haven’t reported. You know why? 

Because of the court process. Because of how I was forced to relive the worst moments of my life in court for the csa I experienced. 

Did you know that even if the abuse happened as a child, the defense lawyer will find a way to victim blame? He’ll call it “intercourse” instead of rape, because let’s face it, at ten years old. It was rape, but it’s an ugly word he’ll refuse to use. He’ll imply that you might have “wanted” it because your aunt was clearly within shouting distance. 

Knowing how much he was able to make me feel like shit, and blame me, for something that happened as a CHILD (a situation in which I’ve only seen agreement that it’s always rape)… Well, that made me wonder, how bad will it be if I report as an adult? 

After all, I was alone with my friend. After all, I’m a lot stronger. Why did I fail to fight him off? After all, there were texts of us flirting, and me questioning my sexuality. 

I couldn’t imagine the amount of heartache I’d have to endure to report it. For potentially nothing to happen. 

I didn’t report. I might never report. I might report 20 years from now because I feel safe, stronger even. 

It doesn’t mean I’m lying. It doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.