Victims No Longer: The Classic Guide for Men Recovering from Sexual Child Abuse

recovery.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

I recently spent a month in Australia, conducting workshops for male survivors and trainings for professionals in diverse parts of that amazing country. I returned to the United States exhausted, jet-lagged, exhilarated, impressed, saddened, enriched, deeply moved, and very encouraged. During my first weeks back I thought of little else, and even my dreams were filled with images of events of that month—especially of the many impressive people I had the privilege of meeting during this all-too-brief adventure.

There are two reasons for writing about Australia in this new preface. First, my mind is filled with things Australian, and—at least for the moment—there's not room for much else. Second, in many ways the situation in OZ parallels the growth of the male survivor recovery movement in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland, New Zealand, and elsewhere.

Throughout the world one can find many examples of how severely children are harmed. (On July 30, 2002, ABC Evening News reported the rape of a nine-month-old baby in South Africa. It included the statistic that, in that country, a child is raped every eight minutes. The South African doctor interviewed for this report attributed much of the problem to a widely held belief that sex with a three- to five-year-old child will cure HIV/AIDS.)

Fortunately, there are also abundant manifestations of courage, strength, and healing. The situation in Australia is neither typical nor extreme. Issues raised in this book are not unique to the United States or the English-speaking world. I am using Australia as an example of how, although sociocultural attitudes about masculinity, sexual child abuse, and recovery differ throughout the world, there is great overlap and some aspects appear to be universal.

A series of fortuitous events led to my spending September 2002 in parts of Australia I hadn't visited before—Western Australia and the Northern Territory. In Perth, Western Australia, we offered an evening talk open to the public, a two-day training for professionals who work with men, a daylong recovery workshop for male survivors, and, for the first time anywhere, a daylong workshop called Training the Trainers for professionals interested in offering workshops and groups for male survivors of sexual child abuse. In Darwin, Northern Territory, there were also workshops, trainings, and a public talk. And the organizers even managed to pull off a two-day training in the town of Alice Springs in central Australia (population ca. 25,000).

As a result of these events, many seeds have been planted. It looks like there will be further exciting adventures in OZ. More on these later.

I arrived in an Australia that was dealing with recent revelations of widespread sexual child abuse by clergy of several denominations (and cover-ups of violations by high-ranking church officials), similar to the environment I had just left in the United States. Each day newspapers, television, and radio carried stories of accusations of child abuse by Roman Catholic and Anglican priests and nuns, Jehovah's Witnesses, and others. Reports of generations of clergy sexual abuse of Aboriginal children were added to the other atrocities and injuries committed by the dominant culture against indigenous communities. Most of these stories closely replicate the disclosures of recent years in the Northern Hemisphere.

Similar to the situation in other countries, there is great cause for concern, but also reason for hope and optimism.

On the negative side, one still finds denial and minimization of the scope and severity of sexual abuse of children—and lack of understanding of boyhood victimization:

The bloke culture of Australian machismo keeps many boys and men silent about abuse they have suffered.

Churches and other institutions continue to abdicate responsibility for harm committed by their representatives—often attacking rather than supporting victims, survivors, and their allies. (For example, despite active outreach and offers of group discounts for their staff, one Catholic diocese refused even to authorize distribution to its parishes of information about the trainings and workshops.)

Hurtful stereotypes about male survivors occasionally appear in the media, and homophobia continues to cloud the issues and impede recovery.

An Australian psychologist told me of a high incidence of anal gonorrhea in boys and girls admitted to his local hospital.

Notwithstanding these outrages and horrors, there is reason for hope. Despite all the discouragement and misinformation about boyhood victimization:

The male survivor events and resources that are evolving from them generated significant media interest. Five radio interviews—three local and two national (including one on the all-Aboriginal CAAMA network)—and three newspaper articles increased public awareness and supplied male survivors with information about resources.

A number of organizations have been created to provide resources and support to survivors in general and to male survivors specifically. Not only are some men's organizations addressing the concerns of survivors, many groups that traditionally provided services only to women are now starting to offer similar resources to men. (Among those who participated in my trainings were staff members of Sexual Assault Centres and Domestic Violence Programs.)

Those who attended the professional trainings included not only therapists and counselors but prison personnel, probation officers, police, medical doctors, nurses, occupational and physical therapists, clergy, lawyers, workers in homeless shelters and youth centres, teachers and students.

Men who participated in the recovery workshops came from a range of age, race, ethnicity, and background. They included doctors, lawyers, psychologists, counselors, mining engineers, farmers, bikers, occupational therapists, businessmen, and students. They all displayed impressive courage, commitment, and caring.

In Alice Springs, the Salvation Army gave us the use of their meeting hall for the trainings in exchange for allowing two of their staff to attend.

The organizers of the events in Perth are already planning further workshops and trainings, next time to include a residential weekend recovery workshop for male survivors.

Professionals in Perth and Darwin are now offering groups for male survivors.

Support and networking groups for people who work with male survivors have been started in all three locations—with at least two meeting in Perth.

Organizers of the trainings in Darwin and Alice Springs are talking of next year's trainings being expanded from two days to three.

Some Aboriginal health services and other organizations are producing culturally sensitive informational publications about sexual abuse and recovery—and are looking for the best ways to fund recovery resources.

As I said earlier, seeds were sown. Although there wasn't time to expand the scope of the trainings and workshops this year, new interest has been expressed for 2003 and 2004 by people in the states of South Australia, New South Wales, and Queensland.

Most exciting of all, we are working with members of Aboriginal groups to create culturally relevant trainings to help indigenous people work with child victims and adult survivors within their own communities.

Individuals are speaking up and taking power on many levels. On this trip I met male survivors who stood up to abusers, protected younger siblings, and took perpetrators to court. I heard from men who changed careers, locations, and relationships to better reflect their recovered sense of self and possibility. I heard people's thoughtful, caring statements about themselves, their loved ones, other survivors, and the world. Here are some examples:

• The male survivor workshop in Perth was held on September 10th. During the lunch break we all gathered at an Italian restaurant, seated at one long table. The conversation, of course, turned to the horrors of September 11th of the previous year, and then to the Australians' fears that the saber-rattling of the Bush administration would lead to large-scale war. One of the men, a mining engineer, turned to me and said softly, I hope Americans find a safe way to grieve. I felt understood, cared about, and challenged.

• An Aboriginal woman who participated in the Darwin trainings said that this was the first time she hadn't fallen asleep during a training session. When one of her coworkers observed that the colleague had never known her to ask questions or make a comment in a professional setting, she replied that this was the first time she felt equal enough.

• Minh Lam, a young Vietnamese-born Australian reporter who interviewed me for an article in the Western Australian newspaper, asked many insightful questions about male survivor issues, concluding the interview with a question I'd never been asked in quite this way. He asked me, What do you get out of it? With that phrasing, he shifted the usual emphasis of the question (Isn't it overwhelming work? Don't you get depressed? How can you stand it?), and invited me to talk about the joys of doing this work—especially the strength, courage, and creativity of survivors and their allies.

• A medical doctor, a general practitioner, told me that part of the reason he attended the trainings was in the hope that he would receive information to help him open a dialogue with a male survivor relative—and finally be able to offer him support in his recovery.

• The ever-impressive Maria De Ionno, a self-described Italian grandmother, when I asked her why she put so much effort into organizing these events—which were unlikely to break even financially—said, It's not enough just to work. I guess I always need a cause.

• Ken Hampton, the Alice Springs organizer I mentioned earlier, is Aboriginal, a forty-year-old father of five, counselor, survivor, activist, and a member of Australia's Stolen Generations. In keeping with government policy, he was taken from his mother at birth and raised by a German family. (By the 1930s assimilation was policy. Children were to be taken away from their parents so they could be forced to adopt non-indigenous culture. They were forbidden to speak indigenous languages and separated from their families and heritage. Aboriginal spokespeople say that community service workers continue to take children away from Aboriginal parents even today, often without consulting the community. [Northern Territory News, Darwin, September 17, 2002, pp. 20-21.] This official policy—and its results—are poignantly portrayed in the Australian film Rabbit Proof Fence)

Despite these and other abuses he suffered, Ken survived and thrived. He told me that when he first saw Victims No Longer he was destitute, but knew he had to have the book—so he stole it. Seeing where that theft has led him makes it the finest crime I can imagine. He is not only reaching out to Aboriginal survivors as a counselor but is actively involved in organizing services for his mob (slang for group or people). Further, he is using his painfully gained insights to help hone his skills and create a bridge between his indigenous people and white Australian society.

Ken is a loving, attentive father, and I value the time I got to spend with him, his partner, Yvette, and their three sons, Yarran, Murrandah, and Amos. I was moved to tears when Ken told me, "If not for your book, my three littlies [Aussie slang for children] wouldn't have a bloody father." I can think of no finer appreciation, nor any better reason for having written this book.

When I told Ken that I believe he has the potential to become an important leader of his people (a sentiment shared by others who have met him), he responded with characteristic modesty, But I'm just one bloke. I replied, So were Gandhi and Martin Luther King. The possibility is there. One individual can change the world. Ken is one of many brave, caring, powerful, charismatic survivors throughout the world, dedicated to changing the ways we interact with one another and treat our children.

These were just some of the many examples of reasons to be optimistic about the future of recovery in Australia. They are repeated in many forms—again and again—in every country. I'm encouraged. With people this powerful and thoughtful, everywhere, committed to understanding, healing, and creating a healthier world, how can things fail to improve?

My sense of hope and encouragement isn't limited to Australia:

• In New Zealand I met a grandfather (a butcher by trade) whose life mission is raising public awareness of male survivor issues and creating resources for healing.

• I've met male survivors in active recovery who are Native Americans, Canadian First Nations People, Maoris, Australian Aborigines, Hassidic Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Protestants, Catholics, Atheists, Caucasians, Latinos, Africans and African-Americans, South Asians, Norwegians, and many more.

• I've spoken with individuals and groups, survivors and professionals who are creating brilliant, innovative resources for male survivors in Canada, England, Australia, Japan, and especially New Zealand.

When I was a boy my goal in life was to meet everyone in the world. At the time it seemed to be a perfectly reasonable dream. When I realized that it couldn't happen—and even if it were possible, the quality of the relationships wouldn't be very deep—I was severely disappointed. But my life has seen that dream realized in a more profoundly satisfying form than I could have hoped. I am fortunate to have a job that involves frequent travel; everywhere I go I meet amazing people—interesting, creative, courageous, and brilliant. It's pretty close to my boyhood dream.

Most of the questions I am asked by survivors—and by their allies—boil down to one question: Is recovery possible? Nothing I have experienced in the past fifteen years has changed my mind about the answer. Is recovery possible? Absolutely. How do I know? I have the evidence. Every day I encounter men and women who are actively and successfully engaged in recovery from the effects of sexual child abuse. They are from all over the world and all backgrounds, ages, and stations of life. Yes, recovery is real and it matters. You matter. It is still a long, difficult, and often painful process, but it is possible and the results justify the struggle. The pain diminishes and the survivor moves from surviving to thriving.

Another question I am frequently asked is, What do you mean by recovery? It has taken me a while to answer that one. I had been depending on other people's definitions of recovery until I developed one that worked for me (just as you must come to one that makes sense for you). Mine is simple. For me, it is about freedom. Recovery is the freedom to make choices in your life that aren't determined by the abuse. The specific choices will be different for each of you; the freedom to choose is your birthright.

Once again, I thank you for confirming my basic optimism about the nature of human beings. We must keep reaching for one another's humanity—and for our own.

INTRODUCTION TO THE SECOND EDITION

At first, I didn't get it. Why were my editors, agent, and others insisting that this revised edition of Victims No Longer requires a new introduction? After all, I reasoned, most people who pick up this book will be doing so for the first time, and will need the same introduction to the material as past readers. Survivors who are new to recovery struggle with massive levels of fear, shame, and confusion. They (perhaps you) are looking for information, resources, and answers. But they are also in need of something more important—something they may not even know they are seeking: reassurance, encouragement, and respect. The introduction is a logical place to try to find it. The same is true for people who are in relationships with male survivors; they need to know that there will be an end to the pain—that life can and will get better—for their loved ones and for themselves.

If you are a reader who is well along in your healing and are returning to this book to see how it speaks to you now, I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little encouragement and reassurance as well. It never hurts to receive confirmation that you're doing well. In addition to reassurance, however, you are probably interested in learning how things have developed since you first began your recovery process. You may be interested in reading about recent changes in thinking about male recovery. You may want to locate resources that weren't previously available to you. And you may be looking for guidelines about the next step in your continuing recovery. I hope this introduction, and the material that follows it, will help you accomplish those goals.

If you have a professional interest in this subject, or just want to learn more about male survivors—or if you aren't quite sure about why you chose to read this book—I welcome your interest and hope that what you find in these pages will increase your understanding and empathy.

Although encouragement about the reality of recovery seemed to me to be enough, those who advocated for a completely new introduction argued for more. They said that there have been many changes over the past fifteen years. The introduction, they suggested, should outline the current issues concerning sexual child abuse and recovery for male survivors. In that context, they asked me to write about changes in the climate of discussion about sexual abuse of boys and men, the wider acceptance of the reality of male victimization, the global scope of the problem, the backlash that survivors have endured, the increasing numbers of men stepping forward to acknowledge and resolve their boyhood traumas, and to discuss the ongoing effects of sexual child abuse, the shame and fear felt by victims and survivors, and the issue of sexual abuse by clergy.

I argued that, while these are all important topics, it would be unrealistic to attempt to present them adequately in an introduction. They are all addressed in the body of the book. If they could be distilled into a sentence or two, there would be no need for a whole book—an article would be sufficient.

It took me a while to appreciate that both views are correct, and to agree to write a fresh introduction that incorporates necessary bits of the original into the new material.

Rereading the original introduction led me to agree that a new one is necessary. Things are indeed different now from fifteen years ago. The original introduction traced my initial search for information that would help me understand some of my clients, and how that search led to my writing the first book for male survivors. It was written in a social and therapeutic environment that had barely begun to address sexual victimization of girls and recovery for female survivors. It was a time of widespread resistance to acknowledging the sexual victimization of boys and men—let alone the existence of female perpetrators. I wrote of the almost total lack of resources for male survivors during the late 1980s, and the parallel absence of accurate clinical information for professionals.

We still face significant obstacles to preventing sexual child abuse and meeting the recovery needs of survivors and their allies, but there is no doubt that we have made significant progress. One would have to have been living in a cave to be unaware of the reality of sexual child abuse and even of the sexual victimization of boys. The old introduction offers historical perspective but doesn't reflect where we are today. I'm considering posting parts of the original introduction on my Web site to provide reassurance during discouraging moments. It might contradict feelings of hopelessness that things will ever improve. To see what I mean, take a look at an old copy of this book.

When I reread this book in preparation for revising it, it came as a relief that most of the material it contains is still relevant (it meant that I had less work to do). Relief was quickly followed by sadness that most of it is still relevant after fifteen years (there is so much work left to do). I'm gratified that so many survivors continue to find Victims No Longer helpful with their recovery, and profoundly disappointed that there remains such great need for this information.

Although this is a brand-new introduction, there are three important items from the first edition preface that need to be included here:

1. Please do not attempt to read this book in one sitting. There is too much powerful content. Take your time, read it slowly, bit by bit, so that you don't get overwhelmed. You may find it better not to read the book at night, or when you are alone. It helps to have someone (therapist, friend, partner, another survivor) with whom you can talk about it.

2. I have been criticized for not including information for survivors who are also abusers. I wrote this book for nonoffending male survivors, reflecting my area of experience. I have not worked extensively with perpetrators, and must leave the topic of offender-survivors to the experts. This does not mean that I believe these individuals don't need and deserve attention. (Just as the fact that I don't work with children doesn't mean that children don't merit help—simply that I don't have much professional experience with them.) I am appreciative of the letters I receive from survivors who are also perpetrators, including several who found Victims No Longer personally helpful. I wish them every success in their recovery from abusing and from having been abused, and I continue to believe that no one can recover from abuse while abusing another person.

3. In the first edition of Victims No Longer I invited readers to write or call me with their reactions, and I replied to every letter and returned all phone messages. However, I underestimated the volume of response to the book and overestimated my ability to handle it. I still invite your letters and e-mail messages. I will read them all and learn from them, but I am not able to provide a personal reply to each. I will continue to be available to come to your local area for survivor workshops, professional trainings, and public talks whenever people have the interest, energy, and resources to organize them. To make arrangements, contact:

The Next Step Counseling and Training

PO Box 301146, Jamaica Plain, MA 02130, USA

Phone:(617)277-7172

E-mail: mike@nextstepcounseling.org

Web site: www.victimsnolonger.org

The Web site includes periodic updates of resources for survivors and professionals, links to other helpful sites, a long bibliography, a calendar of upcoming events, and an occasional column where I write about various matters that I hope you will find helpful or interesting.

A lot has improved, and sometimes we take these improvements for granted as we concentrate on all that is still needed. More than fifteen years ago I was one of three therapists who met in Cambridge, Massachusetts, to talk about abuse and recovery—and to try to locate and share the meager information that was available. At this writing, our Soup Group is much larger and still meeting monthly. Many such groups are now meeting throughout the United States and abroad. There has been a parallel growth of resources for survivors. In fact, there is so much more information and support available that a time traveler from only ten years ago would be amazed.

But this book wasn't written for those who have successfully negotiated their difficult journey of healing. I wrote Victims No Longer as a handbook of recovery for men who experienced boyhood incest or other sexual child abuse—and for the people who care about them. My initial goals haven't changed:

To provide as much information as possible to as many people as possible about a subject that is still ignored as often as possible

To present a framework within which male survivors can explore and share their experiences

To reassure readers that they can recover from the effects of sexual child abuse

To promote discussion about the nature of recovery

To share experiences (mine and others') of what has been helpful to men in their recovery

To provide specific resources to male survivors, the professionals who work with them, and the people who love them

To invite the reader to join with other men in a shared odyssey of recovery.

The first time I used the term odyssey to describe the recovery process, my editor, Peter Nevraumont, responded, "I think this word is a key one . . . the word has many pertinent, positive connotations. Odyssey meaning voyage of discovery of a problem that has been hidden and discovery by the victims that they are not alone. Odyssey meaning heroic journey in (to the psyche) requires as much if not more bravery than a journey out (to the external unknown). Odyssey meaning journey of considerable length; the odyssey you are proposing is not like a trip to the corner for a quart of milk. The odyssey you are proposing requires strength of character, curiosity, a sense of adventure, and a willingness to stick with it. Odyssey is an accurate metaphor for what you have set out to accomplish in your book."

During the years since Peter wrote those words, I have learned a great deal from survivors in recovery. Nothing I've learned, however, has diminished my belief in the difficulty and importance of this heroic undertaking. Neither has it lessened my respect for the courageous men who embark upon this odyssey. Indeed, my admiration for all survivors (and those who stand with them) has only increased with time.

This journey is not easy or simple. You may begin with no more than a faint idea of what you hope to accomplish, and not the least clue as to how to go about it. Eventually, your work gathers momentum, and at times you feel that you have no life apart from recovery. When not specifically engaged in therapy, you find yourself thinking about abuse recovery, talking about it, meeting other survivors, and listening to their experiences. For a while, everything you hear, see, read, or do is viewed through a very specific lens—awareness of abuse and recovery. Every conversation seems to turn to the topic of sexual abuse; those that don't focus on these issues may seem irrelevant to you.

You experience periods of confusion; at other times you feel totally overwhelmed. You find yourself wondering how you dared to take on such a painful effort, and whether you will ever get it right.

But recovery is not only about difficulty and frustration. At times your recovery will seem to have acquired an exhilarating momentum of its own. You begin to understand the connections between what was done to you as a child and the difficulties you have been facing since. You develop fresh insight into your relationships, and change some of your self-defeating behaviors. Each new piece of information, insight, and interaction provides another helpful piece of the puzzle—eventually creating a coherent, informative picture. Despite periods of dejection and hopelessness, you experience occasions of elation—when you know you are on the right track.

In the course of your voyage of discovery—as in a classical odyssey—you will traverse a varied landscape, encountering monsters and heroes. As you make contact with other survivors and allies, and tell them about your life, you hear stories of startling power: histories of physical violence, neglect, emotional and sexual abuse that may leave you crying, shaking—or numb. Your emotions will be all over the map. You are moved by the courage, intelligence, and creativity with which survivors (like you and your loved ones) negotiate their lives: The children who were forced to create their own explanations of irrational, abusive situations—who figured out how to survive in the absence of accurate information, support, encouragement, and love. And the adult survivors—often feeling as though they were clinging to a cliff edge by their fingernails—hanging on to their intuitive understanding that healthy humans treat one another with respect, thoughtfulness, and cooperation—hanging on to the hope of someday experiencing that kind of relationship. Like me, you will be impressed by survivors' success in pulling together the pieces of their lives. The more you hear their stories, the greater your respect for them grows—and eventually you come to understand that you are equally impressive and deserving of the same respect.

I don't expect you to believe all of what I am saying, but if you continue with your recovery, I have no doubt that you will come to agree with most of it. Try it. Do your own work, trust your judgment, and see for yourself. Your life can and will improve. Much of what is contained in this book reflects my admiration for what male survivors have accomplished; the responses I receive from readers validate this perspective.

This book isn't for everyone. I aimed to create a resource for male survivors and the people involved with them. It is not a work of scholarly research. It quotes few statistics and contains no footnotes. Others have produced academic treatises on boyhood sexual trauma. (Readers interested in technical, academic, or statistically oriented material can refer to the expanded bibliography on my Web site.)

I tried to present information in plain English so that it would be accessible to the widest possible readership. Given the vast scope of the subject matter, I had to be selective about what was included. Victims No Longer doesn't contain everything that can be known about abuse and recovery. We are learning more all the time. The material presented in this book will continue to be written and rewritten by many individuals with many different perspectives—survivors and allies, professionals and nonprofessionals—as our understanding grows.

The following pages contain much of what I have found to be true about sexual child abuse and recovery. There is a great deal of information and a great many suggestions. I hope the information is helpful and the suggestions are practical, but you must make that determination yourself. What is in this book is neither law nor gospel. Please select what is useful to you and ignore the rest. It is clear to me that different pieces of information speak to survivors at different points in their recovery. The information in this book comes from a wide variety of sources. It provides a rich banquet. I encourage you to consume it slowly, not moving on to another course before you are ready.

As a therapist, my primary interest is recovery. For this reason, I don't waste time arguing about (or trying to prove) the existence of the sexual abuse of boys. It happens. This book addresses the effects of that abuse and ways to recover from them. In every chapter, you will find words of encouragement and suggestions for recovery.

Some themes receive special emphasis. Among these are issues concerning trust, isolation, shame, and intimacy. They are given specific attention because understanding them is crucial to survivors.

While I have tried to be as accurate as possible, Victims No Longer necessarily reflects my personal philosophies and biases. This is not a neutral book; I hope it is not dispassionate. I am passionately committed to the prevention of, and recovery from, sexual child abuse. I have no patience with child abusers or apologists for child abuse. I believe that there is a great deal wrong with a society that allows individuals to profit at the expense of children. I believe we have a long way to go to create a world where child abuse is unknown and unthinkable—and I believe we can accomplish it.

There are other ways that this book isn't for everyone. Some people remain in deep denial about the existence of boyhood sexual abuse. They will interpret this book as fiction or exaggeration. It is neither. There are individuals and groups who resist what this book has to say because acceptance would necessitate change—involving loss of their power and privilege. Choosing to remain comfortably ignorant of the pain and suffering one causes (or condones) constitutes another form of abuse.

Abusive childhoods isolate victims in a number of ways. Some survivors never learned to read, or cannot sustain a long-enough attention span. Others are so mired in hopelessness that they can't believe that anything will do any good, or they have been so badly hurt in boyhood that they need treatment far beyond the scope of a self-help book. And there are some for whom the information is still too immediate or painful to approach.

But you have picked up this book. You're looking for something, and a part of you—however small—knows that things aren't completely hopeless. By reading about the experiences and feelings commonly shared by male survivors, you may recognize your own situation. If so, you will find yourself in good company on the road to recovery.

The following chapters present information in several different ways. When writing about theory or general matters, I often use the somewhat neutral third person. However, when relating personal experience or the specifics of recovery, I attempt to speak directly to you, the reader. I sometimes repeat or rephrase material I consider particularly important, or when it fits into several contexts. Denial and fear surrounding abuse-related issues are so powerful that some information needs to be repeated many times before it is heard.

I try to use pronouns in a conscious way throughout the text. Because this book is about male survivors, I tend to employ the masculine pronouns when referring to survivors. To avoid both sexist assumptions and overdependence on unwieldy phrases like he or she and him/herself, I alternate masculine and feminine pronouns when referring to therapists, partners, family members, friends—and perpetrators. Beyond these intentional idiosyncrasies (and despite the expert help of friends, colleagues and editors), stylistic difficulties reflect the limitations of the author.

Within chapters there are special sections I call Focuses. A Focus is set apart from the main text because it deserves special emphasis, bears repeating, or speaks to a specific experience or group. They vary in length from a paragraph to about a page; their content relates to the chapters in which they are found.

Focus

Victims No Longer: On the Use of the Terms Victim and Survivor

There are difficulties involved in the use of either of these words when talking about adults recovering from sexual child abuse.

The dictionary definition of victim (one who suffers through no fault of his own; one who is made to suffer by persons or forces beyond his control) is an accurate description of the reality of childhood sexual abuse. But the word also suggests an emotional image of hopelessness and helplessness.

While this may have been true at the time of the original abuse, it is by no means reflective of your present situation. Regardless of how you feel about yourself, or how severely abuse has wounded you, you are a strong, creative individual. You had the ability to survive to this point, and now you have the ability and the resources to recover. That doesn't sound like a victim, does it? Therefore, in this book I shall try to use victim only when referring to the condition of the child at the time of the actual abuse.

There are similar limitations with the term survivor, which evokes pictures of people clinging to flotsam while their ship sinks, or hanging by their fingernails from a cliff edge. While this might be an accurate description of the feelings of the person who was sexually abused, it neglects the reality that's survival isn't enough.

Survival means enduring until something better comes along. Recovery involves learning to live a satisfying life—to thrive instead of merely survive. But, for now, survivor is the best word we have, and I use it until something better comes along. (Some people have suggested Adults Molested As Children [AMAC], but that feels even more passive to me than survivor.) In this book, survivor refers to an adult who was sexually abused as a child. But we must always be aware that survival is a temporary state, one that will be replaced by something better.

Placed between some chapters are personal accounts, or Statements, by adult male survivors relating their own experiences. I provided only the most general guidelines to the men who wrote these Statements. For most, I suggested they include some combination of: (a) something about themselves; (b) something about what was done to them; (c) something about the effects; (d) something they have found useful in recovery; (e) anything they would like to say to other male survivors (who might not know anyone with whom they can talk). These statements are anonymous, identified only by the approximate ages of the authors. Names have been changed to protect each individual's privacy. Editing was kept to a minimum.

As you will see, Statements vary in scope and presentation, ranging in tone from coolly detached to highly emotional, in length from a few paragraphs to several pages. I once saw a television interview with a Hollywood filmmaker (whose name I have unfortunately forgotten, as I'd like to give him credit). When asked about the difference between a story and a plot, he replied that an example of a plot would be, A man died and then his wife died. An example of a story is, A man died and then his wife died of a broken heart. The survivors' Statements provide the stories that impart life and intimacy to this book. I am extremely grateful to the men who shared their experiences, ideas, and feelings so courageously and powerfully.

This revised edition contains new content, Focuses, and Statements. There is a new chapter about clergy abuse, rewritten and updated sections on groups and workshops, and some new material about therapeutic techniques and the backlash. The Resources sections include an updated bibliography and list of support organizations worldwide. This edition has four new Focus sections, and three additional Statements by male survivors.

Victims No Longer means a lot to me. Writing it challenged me, taught me, and changed me profoundly. Responses to it have been humbling and moving. I have high hopes for this book:

That it validates and honors the accomplishments of readers who are well along in their recovery

That it helps those who care about male survivors to understand, appreciate, and support them in their recovery

That, if you are new to healing the wounds of your childhood, you derive guidance and reassurance from its contents.

I offer you this book in a spirit of growth and healing. I hope you will find it a worthwhile companion on your own odyssey of recovery.

—M.L.

Part One

ABOUT ABUSE

1

SEXUAL CHILD ABUSE: MYTHS AND REALITIES

And those that create out of the holocaust of their own inheritance anything more than a convenient self-made tomb shall be known as Survivors.

—Keith Jarrett, THE SURVIVOR'S SUITE

Child abuse. The term has entered our vocabulary with an eerie everyday familiarity. It is an enemy we can all rally against. Good people everywhere unite in condemnation of the few evil, sick individuals who abuse children. We talk confidently about the need to protect our children from these weird, trench-coated strangers who lurk about schoolyards with molestation on their minds. We create programs that teach kids not to accept rides or candy from strangers. We assume we know what child abuse is.

At the same time we create an image of the perfect family. Television shows and movies portray wise, caring fathers and loving, nurturing mothers imparting decent values to their children in an atmosphere of trust and openness. When problems arise, Dad has a fatherly talk with Sonny and gently guides him to the path of reason. Mom sits on the edge of Sis's bed and talks about her own childhood, dispensing motherly wisdom liberally laced with hugs. Or the family sits down together at the dining room table to solve the little problems of childhood through easy communication and folksy stories. We create a fantasy of family life whose problems can be solved within the episode, and then we believe our own creation. We assume that we know what family life is.

WHAT IS ABUSE?

If you have decided to read this book, it is likely that your own experience was dramatically different from this ideal. If you were abused as a child, your memories of family life present another picture. Dad's fatherly talk was anything but reasonable, and his guidance far from gentle. Mom's own childhood memories may have been of violence and sexual abuse. And mealtimes were occasions to be endured or avoided. You may remember absent, unavailable or nonprotective parents—unable to help you because they couldn't help themselves. A family evening at home might have included screaming fights, bouts of drunkenness, episodes of physical violence, cowering children hiding in fear, nightmares, tears, confusion, stony silences, unreasonable blame, ridicule, repeated beatings, missed meals, helplessness, attempts to protect a parent or sibling . . . or sexual abuse. Your memories may include not being believed and having no source of protection. You may have little or no detailed memory of your childhood, positive or negative, and wonder why you can't recall those happy times—those golden childhood years. Some of you pretended it was otherwise, imagining your family as happy, wise, healthy, and harmonious. In this way you attempted to protect yourself from the abuse, holding on to the fantasies as long and as tightly as you could manage until reality forced its way into the picture. You may still find yourself tempted to rewrite your family history to bring it more in line with the way you wish it had been.

As a society and as individuals, the images of family life we've created are pleasant and comforting. It is no wonder we cling to them so fiercely—we defend them against the intrusion of a harsher reality. Even when we are in the midst of an abusive situation, it is often easier to pretend it is otherwise. In fact, your fantasy of an ideal family may have been the only refuge available to you as a child. Realizing this makes it easier to understand a child's insistence—in the face of blatant evidence of abuse—that nothing is wrong. In my clinical practice I have heard many people tell heartrending stories of brutality and violence, only to have them react with surprise when I refer to their childhood as abusive. This begins to make sense only when we combine misinformation about the nature of child abuse with the mythology of perfect family life.

The Family is a sacred construct in most cultures. Politicians are elected on the basis of their commitment to Family Values. Educators and clergy decry the erosion of Family Life. No one is willing to risk violating the sanctity of The Family. Along with the value placed on the family, Americans cherish the concepts of Privacy and Independence.

A man's home is his castle. Within this castle, the king and queen rule absolutely. Few people are willing to make suggestions as to how children should be raised, let alone interfere with their treatment. It is seen as solely the parents' responsibility. This combination of cultural values leaves parents (who may themselves be products of abusive childhoods) isolated when dealing with the stresses of family life. It creates an environment wherein children (and wives) are seen as property. Ownership confers license to treat a child as one wishes.

Our respect for independence and diversity provides leeway for a wide range of parental behavior. The importance we ascribe to individual and family privacy allows some harmful and shocking behavior to go unnoticed (and extremes of abuse to go unreported). Only recently has the need to protect children from abusive parents begun to be recognized. But change is slow and tentative. Interference with the family by child protective agencies is viewed with suspicion.

The reality is that abuse exists. It is real and it is common. It takes many forms, some blatant and others subtler. The spectrum of child abuse ranges from neglect to physical violence. It includes torture, beatings, verbal and psychological maltreatment, child pornography, and sexual abuse (ranging from seductive behavior to rape). Abuse of children is seldom limited to one of these manifestations. Abuse appears in varying combinations, duration, and intensity. All forms have devastating, long-term effects on the child.

In the face of absolute parental authority, a child loses all adult rights—to privacy, independence, and even control over his or her body. We continue to maintain the fiction that abusive behavior by those closest to the child is less severe than that which is perpetrated by strangers. Without a doubt, the reverse is true.

Kids are remarkably resilient. With proper support,