Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #289: My Aunt and Passover dinner

So you remember how I was so worried about my sister-in-law and Easter dinner? Well, it turns out I should have looked a lot closer to home before worrying about my sister-in-law. My sister-in-law came around on her own!  She said that she finally realized “How does this affect me, really?”  Then she said that once she realized that this is not a threat to her in any way, she became cool with it.  She also said that once she was with her brother for two seconds, she realized that the relationship has not changed at all.  I thought this was such growth on her part.

Unfortunately, it looks like some members of my family have not experienced such forced growth. This past Saturday night, my ex and I went to Passover dinner with my family.  A note about our divorce situation – I know it’s different than the normal divorce.  As my mom remarked — “Your divorce is better than most marriages!”  This is true – we are still living together, and we are okay for the most part.  Well, I should say, I cry myself to sleep almost every night, but that is more about my sadness over where I am in life, and not a reflection on the way we get along with each other. Anyway, my point is, we are still living together, and have no immediate plans to separate living spaces.  So, we still function as a married couple, kind of.  But we have been in separate bedrooms for a long time now, and we no longer kiss or hold hands, obviously. And we do plan on getting around to actually divorcing at some point.

In a way, our relationship has kind of morphed from being husband and wife to being close sisters and best friends.

So we went to Passover dinner on Saturday night, and my Aunt fucking attacked my ex.  I felt like I had to stand up for my ex because it was my family.  When we were married, we worked under the assumption that my ex would take care of his family shit, and I would take care of mine.  This seemed to work really well for us. Now, I still feel the same even though we aren’t married and he is a she.

So, I got into it with my Aunt.  She said such nasty things to my ex.  She obviously felt that the whole transgender thing was a choice, and a bad one at that.

The whole thing made me remember how she handled the news that I had been incested by my brother.  She said to me “Things happen between brothers and sisters.”  I finally had to tell her “Oral sex doesn’t happen between brothers and sisters”, which stunned her into silence for the moment.

It may seem like the two issues – incest and transgenderism – have nothing in common, but in fact they do.  Incest is a fairly common thing that happens in many homes.  But no one ever talks about it.  It’s such an ugly thing, such a shitty taboo to break.  Transgenderism is somewhat rare, but it’s not something that anyone has ever had any personal experience with until it happens to someone you know and/or love.  Both issues take a lot of education.

In both issues, there is a lot of downplaying and a lot of victim blaming.  My Aunt wishes I would shut the fuck up about how incest and child sexual abuse has affected my life, so that she doesn’t have to be uncomfortable with the knowledge that this happened to me. My aunt also likes to think that transgendered people should hide who they really are so as not to make her uncomfortable.

I live with the hope that my Aunt Will come around, in terms of her thought processes with all of this.  It’s not a choice.  It’s not my ex’s choice to be transgendered, it wasn’t my choice to be an incest survivor, and it’s neither of our choices to suffer ill consequences of what has happened to us.  But these are our lives now, and we have to live them.  I’d rather do that with my family’s support, but she really has never come to understand that my being incested wasn’t a choice (even with all my attempts at educating her), so she probably will never understand my ex’s life either.



Reason #164: Family Gatherings

This past weekend, I celebrated Passover with my family.  My brother was there.

I forgave my brother long ago for what he did to me, but the truth is, I am terribly afraid of him.  Forgiveness does not equal an absence of fear.  I know what he did to me.  More importantly, I know what he is capable of doing, and I have a son, a child who is dependent on me and my husband for the safety of his body and soul. 

I live far away from my brother.  But at these family gatherings, I have to be on super-hyper-alert, and always keep one eye on my brother while keeping the other eye on my son.  To ensure that all eyes are everywhere, I always enlist the help of my husband, mother, and aunts.  Everyone knows what my brother did to me, and everyone has been instructed to make sure that he is never ever alone with my son.  Still, I keep my eyes on my son the whole time.  Every time my brother moves, my husband or I move with him, like bodyguards.

I wish it were all so simple as “banish him from your life, entirely”.  That is the simpleton advice that is always given to us incest and child sex abuse survivors.  Well, life isn’t so neat like that, with packages that can be tied with pretty answer bows.

I really don’t know how old I was when he molested me, but I think I was somewhere between 6 and 8.  I know it was in 3rd grade that all my grades went to shit, which makes me think I was 8 when it happened.  My brother was 10 years old when he molested me.  Should he be registered as a sex offender for the rest of his life for what he did to me when he was 10?  Should any of us be judged by our actions at 10 years old?  I don’t know the answer to this.  Some of me says yes, some of me says no.

My mother has two children, and one of them permanently damaged the other.  A babysitter damaged us first.  I wish these issues were as simple as “don’t go to holiday dinners”, but they aren’t. 

My brother has apologized many many times for what he has done to me.  I am pretty sure it is one of the major reasons that he has tried to kill himself.  Unfortunately, it is also one of the reasons I tried to kill myself too.

If I were a child now, I think he would molest me again.  Yet he shows no interest in other children.  Just me. How many other victims of crimes have to celebrate holidays with their criminals?  I mean, really, do people who’ve had their purses stolen – do they have to sit down to Christmas dinner with their robber? 

The thing is, it always sits heavy in the air between us.  We’re sitting at our holiday dinner, and there’s the din of the family talking all around us.  Can you please pass the corn, I say to him, as if being with him doesn’t scare the crap out of me.  As if every look between us isn’t laden with memories of him using my body like I wasn’t even in it.  My no’s meant nothing then, and I fear they would mean nothing to him now.

Most of the reasons you shouldn’t fuck kids are gifts that keep on giving, like this one.  There will be more family gatherings.  Birthdays, holidays, graduations – all these things that both of us would be invited to.  I don’t want to remove myself from my family, especially since my family is acknowledging that my brother abused me.  He has not done anything to hurt me in almost 30 years, and yet every family gathering consists of me standing on guard, watching my son like a hawk, and being the world’s greatest actress.  If you were at one of these family gatherings, you would think I am the happiest wife and mother, all smiles and laughter.  Yet inside, visions of what he did to me flitter through my mind like a movie reel.

Families look forward to holidays.  For incest and child sex abuse survivors, it is yet another time when we have to act like everything is okay. That is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #72: Passover
April 9, 2009, 11:41 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

For us Jews, the holiday of Passover has begun. Passover is about the fact that in ancient times, The Pharaoh freed the Jewish slaves.

My mom sent me this e-mail yesterday: “Have a good Passover. May we all find freedom from our own bondage. Love Mom.”

My mom has been my ally in the aftermath of surviving child sexual abuse. When she wrote that e-mail to me, she knew exactly the bondage I am in.

If that babysitter fucked me when I was five, then I have been in this bondage of fear and panic for 30 years. Maybe this Passover, I will be freed from my bondage the way my ancestors were freed from theirs all those years ago.

My mom’s message was so poignant that I am going to wish it on all of you survivors reading my blog. May we all find freedom from our bondage.




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