Excellent look at the complex issues which lead male victims of CSA to turn to crime and violence following abuse as children.
Help New Zealand’s historic institutional abuse survivors to seek truth and justice. Help New Zealand’s historic institutional abuse survivors to protect future generations of children who are entrusted to State care.
From the days of old,
Santa’s real I’m bloody told
What was going on back then?
I wasn’t even hitting ten.
Back in the 1950s when a small child, the product of inadequate parents and the oldest of seven children, at that time as i have 7 sisters and two brothers now, I could not have imagined for a moment the suffering and abuse that lay ahead of me. The first abuse happened in the health camp and then in numerous child welfare institutions throughout the country. And several incidents in church care.
It happened to me and my brother. I was five when it started. He was my Uncle. He said it was o.k, I knew it wasn’t right but it didn’t occur to me to think I could stop him. He used to fondle me and fool around. I was never raped, not then.
As a teenager I was very punky, and alternative. Real angry and it came out. By 18 I was psyching out on alcohol, drinking 5 days out of 7… aggro as hell… breaking stuff…hurting myself with razors and knives. Continue reading
Ken got chatting with a young dude at the bus stop. “The Beatles were pretty big when I was 12. He was dressed just like them and I thought he was so cool.” After getting off the bus together in town, Ken’s new friend took him into the toilets at the picture theatre where he forced Ken to masturbate him. “Don’t tell or you’ll get into trouble because what you’ve done is wrong.”
They met fairly regularly after that. Ken says he felt he couldn’t stop what was happening. Then one time they were in bed together. All he remembers is feeling something wet and sticky between his legs. He thought it was blood – he didn’t know about semen. Continue reading
I don’t remember when it started or even much about it. I know it began when I was quite small and went on until my late teens. It was often rape, and violent. My mother was a lonely woman with a deep need for comfort and I was the thing she used to give her that. She would tell me “this is special”, “this is private,” and, of course, “no one will believe you if you tell – they’ll blame you…”
I thought of myself as a ‘thing’. Later on, that was what stopped me from killing myself – feeling that I was there to make others feel better about their lives. Because mine was such shit. Continue reading
I remember some of the family coming to stay one time, I was the youngest and the smallest, so I had to share my bed with one of my older cousins. I woke up in the night and he was giving me a blowjob. I thought he was trying to get me to pee in his mouth. I think I was about 8.
I wish I’d known I could have told him to piss off.
I was very timid and shy as a child, with an overprotective, needy mother and a distant father who was slowly dying. This latter fact was of course kept from me.
I guess I was about 8 years old at the time. All I remember is being down by the river with the boy from next door who was in his mid teens when he told me to take down my pants. I said “No”, but somehow he threatened me into complying and engaging in a sexual act, although I had no concept or knowledge of sex at all. This single episode remained vividly etched in my mind. I have no knowledge of going to the river (we were not playmates), or returning home. But, I do remember that my mother was very annoyed with me for going off without telling her. I could not tell her what had happened because she would become even more angry with and ashamed of me. I also feared she would tell his mother. l felt so guilty as though somehow it was my fault. Continue reading