Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #232: My son asks for privacy

I’ve been teaching my son to use the bathroom.  He’s a toddler. Today I helped him up onto the toilet seat, and he wanted privacy in the bathroom.  He told me in his sweet little voice “You help me up and then you go away, okay?”  I of course left the bathroom immediately.  I keep trying to teach my son that he has power, especially power over his own body.  Power over who sees his body, who touches his body.  Power, the kind of power that I never seem to feel myself.

I wonder if we told the babysitter to go away.  Obviously she didn’t listen, but I wonder if we put up a fight.  I wonder if we protested at all.

I think about it a lot.  I wonder about the details.  The therapist says I know enough to heal, but I still wonder.  Did it start immediately?  Like as soon as my mom left?  Did we sense she was evil right away?

I wonder how helpless we must have felt, my brother and I, when we realized just how fucking powerless we were in that situation, alone in our home with someone 10 years older than us.  Me, all of five years old, and him all of seven.  We were so fucking little, and she must have been absolutely thrilled when she got the job to babysit us.  My mom, being a single mother at the time – I mean, this whole thing is just so fucking textbook classic!

How long do you suppose she molested us for, during that first evening?  I mean, at what point do you think she stopped?  She had to have started in immediately, for fear that my mom would come home sooner than expected and put a stop to all of her evil fun.  How long did she molest us?  Was it one hour?  Two?  Three? 

I wish I had at least some sort of visual memory of all of this, so that I could stop being so afraid of everything.

My mom came for a visit not too long ago and she left an address book that she kept from that time.  From the time of the babysitter.  She said there is a possibility that the notebook contains that number.  I asked her to bring the notebook, and she did.  (She takes my shit real seriously ever since our together session with the therapist.) I haven’t been able to look at it at all.  Just can’t do it yet.

My son asks for privacy in the bathroom, and I make damn sure he receives it.  He is 3, and I was only 1 or 2 years older than him (I think) when that babysitter ruined me.  Broke me.  Like Humpty Dumpty, who fell off that wall and couldn’t be put together again. 

That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.


6 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Hi Butterfly,
wow. That’s serious, having a notebook that might have the abuser’s name in it. I know you will find a way to do what needs doing.

Blessings,
SDW

Comment by sworddancewarrior

Sweet heart,

One of the most eloquent of your posts and reasons. I’m so sorry for the abuse you went through and all the pain and damage it has caused in you and your family. Look at you, sweet dear, you are the best teacher, most loving, most respectful, to be able to teach him something you never got, boundaries from those caring for you.

Good and healing thoughts to you.

Kate

Comment by kate1975

Hi Kate – thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Your words mean so much to me.

Warrior – from your lips to G-ddess’s ears. 🙂

Comment by butterflysblog

Butterfly,

I think that, as people who have had our personal spaces invaded so much, privacy is a really vital thing for us all to have. In fact, my need for privacy is what stopped my abuser from hurting me anymore. I remember not being able to really understand what was going on, just knowing that I wanted to be left alone– so I said it. It’s something that people who haven’t been abused might take for granted…just having that space that is valuable and safe, that is our own. Are you giving yourself that space? I hope you are.

Chungyen

Comment by TreatInfamy

I love that your son is giving you the courage to help yourself, too. He has already shown an intimate respect for you.

Comment by sandma1half

Dear Butterfly,

Even when children aren’t molested, their boundaries are routinely violated. They are taught through action and inaction that privacy is not important, that grownups get to violate their boundaries whenever they like, that “no” is something that can be ignored. By raising a son without violating his privacy, his boundaries, his sense of self, even in ways that culture says are “normal”, you are raising a son who has a defense against rape culture. Who IS a defense against rape culture. You are raising a child who is likely, through his existence weighing on the good side and probably through the direct actions he will take, to make the world tangibly less horrible.

These are things I’m sure you know, but they bear repeating. I hope you love yourself even half as much as you deserve. Seriously, I know I’m repeating myself (and I know no one wants to think of their child in this context), but how do you teach a man to respect boundaries? Not by instilling in him the idea that boundaries don’t matter.

Butterfly, you should not have to be this strong. I wish you didn’t. But as things are, I can’t help being a little in awe of how you took the utter horror you’ve experienced and went and made the world a better place anyway, in the most important way possible. I hope you realize you’re a hero.

Comment by Ferocious Meringue




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