When I was a fairly young child, my mother told me that my grandfather (her mother’s husband) had been caught molesting my cousin. They told me that I should be careful of him. They told me that he had been caught with is hand up her little dress. And HE SAID that it was HER FAULT because she was sitting with her legs open.
That story makes me sick, as it should, but can you imagine how confusing that story would be for me as little girl? How was I supposed to process that information?
Especially when my parents didn’t stop taking me there.
I remember feeling uncomfortable hearing about it. I remember the way my mother told me, like it was something really important that I needed to know. I knew that it was serious but I remember being unsure of what I was supposed to DO with that information. I had the feeling that I should be scared of him but I still had to go to my grandparent’s home, be polite, do as I was told and all that other stuff. It was very confusing. We are taught not to question such things.
I remember as a little girl as young as 4 or 5, sitting right beside him on the couch, snuggled right up to him in the crook of his arm, close enough to smell the booze on his breath and my mother sitting across the room watching like a Hawke. And I remember feeling GUILTY and not knowing why. I remember feeling scared of getting a spanking for sitting beside him but when he coaxed me over to him, I had no idea how the heck to avoid going to sit beside him. I had been taught that I had to respect and obey my elders. And although I had been told to stay away from him, no one rescued me, no one gave me a way to avoid him! My parents knew he was a drunk and a predator. They knew he had been caught and they believed he did it. Didn’t they think to stop taking me to visit there? Well obviously not.
They didn’t want to “rock the boat.” They didn’t want to “make waves” and stand up for what was RIGHT, not to