ANTIDOTE FOR ABUSE

A friend of mine recently disclosed her son is a victim of sexual abuse.  A cousin had come forward with a narrative that covered a number of other cousins, including her son.  Heartbreak and guilt poured out as she struggled to come to grips with how she would tell her husband, working in Australia.  As a grandmother to four boys I absorbed the realisation that, statistically, the chances of them reaching their teens without one of them experiencing abuse are grim. 

North American studies consistently conclude that one in six boys will experience sexual abuse; the median age being nine years old.  Most of these victims will never tell anyone.  Instead they will exhibit behaviours that range from petty lying and pinching to violence, drug and alcohol abuse, and broken relationships.  They will face a higher risk of suicidality, and in extreme cases may become abusers themselves later in life.  Like a stone dropped in the water, the ripple effects can echo for generations.

In Māori society our cultural bias maintains that real men cannot be victims.  In general we expect our men to be confident, knowledgeable and assertive, even aggressive.  As most offenders are men, to be their victim can be seen to mean that one is either an inadequate male or is struggling with homosexuality which, although not as repugnant as it once was, still has enough stigma attached to it to add to the confusion and fear around abuse. 

Altogether these factors make the abuse a Big Secret and encourage the victims to seal it and themselves up in silence.  When they finally break open, their mother’s shoulder may be softer to cry on, but it’s their father’s response to the abuse that will determine their recovery. 

So this is a message, a plea really, to all you tuakana teina, matua, koro and koroua out there.  Sure you have every right to be angry about the abuse.  But if you’re going to act out, do it away from our boys.  They need you to show a different kind of leadership now. 

The Big Secret will only lose its power when it’s exposed, and when it does come out they need to see nothing but love in your eyes.  They need to know they are victims of abuse – not participators.  They need the assurance that their masculinity has been assaulted – not extinguished.  So when you’re with them, set aside your questions and listen, or talk honestly about your own experiences.  If you’re struggling to do that, then look for help from others who’ve been there.

It’s going to take mighty men of aroha to help our sons break the silence and the secrecy with which men of abuse have bound them. They need you to be those men of aroha.  You can do it.  You must.