Breaking Silence

I recently experienced an internal code of silence that surprised me greatly. It’s been over 40 years since I was raped by my uncle, and yet I found it difficult to talk about. It seemed as if I would be punished in some unknown way for speaking up. Over 40 years of an ominous, ethereal lock on my tongue.

After I’d dealt with the crushing aftermath of resurfacing memories; after I’d been kicked in the chest and got back up again; after I’d spent time in therapy (finding a good therapist is a long, sometimes scary story), I tried to report him. I found his county. I called the police. They would not even go and take a look. I knew he still had access to young children, but they wanted the name of a child who was currently complaining of the abuse. What had happened to me didn’t matter.

It had been years of molestation (such a schmaltzy word for another form of rape), followed by a single night of a violent act involving a large, heavily muscled, very angry man and an eight year old child often called Half-Pint for her tiny size. I know something went on for about two more years, but I have no memories of what that was. Yet.

This code of silence, this inability to open my mouth and speak the truth astonishes me. And yet, I hear people wonder why rape and incest is under-reported. I hear them marvel that a character in a book who has just been raped doesn’t rise up and slay her attacker. I hear them blame the victim for not being enough, for not being strong enough to fight back, to raise the stakes from rape to murder. I hear them talk from a position of strength and a lack of personal knowledge. I hear in them some of the reasons why the silence continues.

But what can be done to rescue the children living in their own private hell and unlock their voices?


One of the manuscripts I’m working on contains incest. Some of it is based on my experiences and some is fiction. There are many reasons why I’m having trouble working on this one. Part of it is the silence. Part of it is public reaction to such subjects in books. Part of it is this business of writing.

The details can be graphic, the subject matter taboo. Does that make it not suitable for young children? Does that mean the only readers of such a book should be adults? Are children younger than 12 only allowed to be raped and not to read about it? If I make the character older, would it be suitable for Tweens? Teenagers?

Am I falling into the trap that says this doesn’t happen to little children? If we admit this does happen to young children, are we failing as a society?

I don’t have the answer for my manuscript let alone for our society or those many thousands of children who feel hope has abandoned them or that this life they lead is normal and there is nothing else, no other way to live.

Do you?


In case you’re wondering, my uncle’s dead now. Found that out through an accident of the internet on a genealogical site.