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I’m not particularly attached to my family. They let me down a long time ago. They saw it fit to ignore what was going. Which…at this point is fine, I mean I can’t spend my whole life dwelling on these things or I would never have a life myself. 12aa6f40adc30ae12eb6a2ab09fa02c5

Today I found the film Sleepers. I’m not sure if this is the exact film I want to discuss but it was something very close to it in storyline.

I was visiting family in Ohio. Their basement was a big social room with a big TV, etc. They were watching a film similar to this, one that was mainly about boys who were raped (I find it interesting that in a film about boys, they use the term “rape” yet in countless films about girls “molested” or “assaulted” are used more). I was about 11 or 12. I walked downstairs to see what they were all doing and my Uncle raged..flipped out, yelling, “GET OUT OF HERE! YOU CANNOT WATCH THIS! IT ISN’T FOR YOU! THIS IS FOR MEN!” and I distinctly remember saying, “But I understand this.” and he said, “GET OUT! GO!” I felt so sick. I felt hurt. I felt dejected. Because I did understand and if he knew (which for the most part, he knew much of it) he would (I hoped) be mortified, upset and want to help me. But no…no I can’t see a film about child rape to boys. It’s for men. What did that even mean?

He hurt me and didn’t even know it. By that age, I knew child rape very well and I was offended that someone should think I didn’t! Yet I couldn’t yell out, “I GET IT! I HAVE TO DO THAT TOO!” But yet, somehow, on some level, he knew that and chose to watch this film and humiliate me in front of family when I came downstairs.

My family have used my abuse to humiliate me a lot. My insecurities are real. Sure I’ve pushed forward and made sure I had a life worth living but sometimes…those insecurities win. I’m lucky to know a few people who care about those times. My family sure doesn’t or never did give a fuck.

 

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