Blame

  “But if you cause one of these little ones who trust Me (Jesus) to fall into sin, it would be better for you to have a millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in the depths of the sea.” Mathew 18:6

 

  I hear her desperation, her need to be believed, her need to be absolved, “I never asked for it!”

  I know, love, you never did. The terrible, awful things that happened were given to you against your will. Your stop light was broken. You didn’t break it, not one bit. It was broken by vandals and thieves who only wanted to destroy and take what wasn’t theirs to have.

  She is not alone. I’ve heard this phrase often, from other women.

  Their voices, my voice and even Cricket join with them in this child-woman’s cry of lament. It bears witness to the unquenchable sorrow that fills our being.

  Blame is a terrible thing. Eve knew. Adam was quick to lay his choices at her feet.

  I read a FB post about Johnny Depp. He had taken his partner, a woman, to court with charges of abuse. It shared how he was mocked by the courts, his addictions and sexual history made central to the case. The article closed with the line (paraphrased), “If he had been a woman, he never would have been treated like this by the justice system.”

  So, that’s a lie.

  The article was written by a man who has no understanding what women face when they finally have the courage to press charges against a man for abuse, sexual or otherwise. He has no idea what an uphill battle it is to simply be believed especially if there is no evidence of sexual violence. Even if there is…Adam is very quick to put his two cents in.

  Hagar gets it. She is the anonymous woman who came forward with, now proven, allegations of sexual abuse against Bruxy. It’s why she chose to remain anonymous. It grieves me deeply how Bruxy pulled an Adam, too.

  Maybe I don’t need to go any further with this line of thought. Maybe there needs to be a deeper explanation for why women do the things they do.

  It’s time to dive into the damage blaming the victim does. It might get ugly. Truth often is.

  I’ve done things I am not proud of. I’ve done things I would undo if I could. God, in His infinite mercy, has forgiven me. It’s much, much harder to forgive myself. He’s also forgiven me for hating the fact He made me a woman in the first place.

  I tried so hard to hide my femaleness. It didn’t really matter, my femaleness sent off invisible signals, just like Compliancy did. I was never the seducer. I never “asked for it.”

  The following is a composite tale, made up of the countless number of stories I’ve heard from other abused women. Parts of it are also my truth. Names are made up to protect the innocent.

  What would a child know of seduction? How could a child sitting on Uncle Tommy’s lap even begin to understand that Uncle Tommy had ulterior motives? How could a child know how sick he was?

  To be blamed for what Uncle Tommy did is utterly bewildering. How can simply being a girl, alive, and vulnerable be blamed? How can being female be so bad or naughty that such awful and confusing things be done to her?

  Uncle Tommy never left the family. Being blamed and not believed left the little girl exposed and vulnerable. He got really good at hiding what was going on. He created a conspiracy of secrets. He made this little, beautiful, precious, sweet child into a plaything, an it, an object, with no regard for the damage he was doing.

  “She enjoyed what I was doing.” Adam says.

  I watched a TV show on female sexuality. I admit it was uncomfortable because when it comes to thinking or talking about sex, it’s difficult for me. I know I have a terribly broken understanding of the beautiful gift of intimate sharing God gave men and women. It’s never been beautiful. Nevertheless, the takeaway from the show needs to be shared here.

  When a woman’s body responds to sexual stimulus, even in cases of sexual abuse, it’s how our bodies protect our vulnerable parts from damage. If the body responds during abuse, it has absolutely nothing to do with pleasure!!!! It also has nothing to do with being sexually mature. God has allowed this self-preservation response to be ignited regardless of age or understanding.

  It’s so important to understand this key piece of how God made us. It absolves us of asking the terrible question, “If I didn’t enjoy it, why did I react like I did?”

  The men think we do, enjoy being abused. They misunderstand our body's automatic responses and it makes them think of themselves as excellent lovers. “She wanted it!”

  The gift God gave us to protect us ends up creating far bigger problems. Isn’t that satan’s handiwork!

  The little girl grew up, understanding her place, her role and her purpose. She was burdened with shame and guilt for all she had done. Perversely, she was also burdened by shame and guilt for all she hadn’t done—for not getting away from the games children and grown-ups play. No-one believed her anyways so it must be her fault these things happened.

  She grew up and sold herself to the lowest bidders, never believing anyone would want such damaged goods. So the cycle of abuse continued. Promiscuity, when all is said and done, is a desperate search for belonging. You see, that’s another cost of sexual abuse for those who have experienced it…we don’t feel we have a place in “good society.”

  There is no joy in these types of relationships. There is no caring, or intimacy, or love. But, hey, “She asked for it, didn’t she?”

  The men involved just didn’t understand the question. They didn’t understand her cry, “Will you love me?” was asked in the only language she knew, the one that continued to cost her everything.

  It’s a long list of expenses paid out: innocence, virtue, purity, virginity, identity, connection, community, value, faith…pretty much everything that is good and beautiful about us that is unique and God given.

  Dear readers, this has been a tough one to write. I suppose it needed to be said because when Hagar was blamed for what happened, those who did the blaming heaped fiery, burning, searing coals on her. I hope, in reading this, you have been given a glimpse inside a room that most of us, as sexual abuse survivors trying to survive, locked up tight and then threw away the key.

  As I said earlier, I have done things I wish could be undone. They can’t. Maybe in writing these things, they are being redeemed. Maybe this composite story contains pieces of yours. Although, this thought offers no comfort, only deep sorrow.

  Maybe it's what I needed to hear as well because I finally realize Adam’s voice is still really, really loud in my head.

  Lord, about the people who abuse women and children. They are sick. Help for them is very limited because few people even want to help them. To be honest? I want to hurt and maim them and have a dozen millstones placed around their neck. But Lord, You have called me to a higher calling. With mixed emotions I reluctantly lay these words at Your feet, “Hear my prayer for them.”