Mental Health | Men | Trauma
Whenever I Talked About My Trauma, I Was Always Mocked
I stayed silent while they laughed along because that’s what our society does — we joke about it at times not knowing that another who experienced it is standing next to them.
When do boys really grow up — do they learn to accept that no one will show them how to, or they just keep on taking the hits until the sense of becoming an adult comes naturally. I don’t know — That’s the best answer one can give, or one has in such scenarios.
We perhaps perceive such behaviours from our parents and the people who raise us and teach us i.e. from other adults who are around us. Throughout my life, strength has to be expected from me, of me and vice-versa. I have always been told not to cry, not to show putrid emotions as they are classified as not manly. The abuse men experience perhaps is far worse in this world than most ever know.
We are out in the open, and the horrors most men face — they might never speak of. Perhaps they enjoy the freedom or so they say. They also face the horrors that await them on the outside. Most men know this, that if they speak about their experiences — they will only be shown disdain.
That is what an intolerant one-sided society does. I have known thousands of men, who have told me their experiences of being assaulted, as children, as boys from men and women, perhaps young and old.
A boy came to me once, he asked me a question that “would I be able to give him a favour.” I urged “why not, sure tell me what do you need?”. He replied, that I have heard you help people, so I wanted to place my trust in someone as I have experienced something dire in my life and I don’t know what to do. When I have told my mother, she hit me with a slap. When I told my father, he beat me 15 times. When I told my uncle, he humiliated me by slapping me silly in front of everyone. When I told my friends, they mocked and laughed at me.
I gave up, after a while — he said. I couldn’t bear anymore listening to his traumatic experience but I stayed and listened. He was molested by his uncle’s wife at the age of 13. He told me the entire experience, as it happened. There was one day, his family had left for their relatives. So He was all alone, with his aunt. He was sitting on the sofa. She came and sat beside him. Whilst watching a movie, she started to touch him.
He was startled as a kid generally would. He then told me something really horrific. She kissed him and then took off his trousers… The details were gruesome — the woman had both sexually assaulted him and tried to physically abuse him twice.
He was crying the entire time, he told me this. Tears were flowing in his eyes, he said no one believed me, he said she did this to him three times. After a while, when he turned 15 he realized what was happening.
At first, he never knew what was happening as a teenager — he snapped one day and hit her aunt with a vase. That got him into trouble and she blamed that he was trying to harass her. This labelled him as something really horrible which tarnished his reputation in his household. He continued, that even in school he was called by names, his own life became a living hell.
The time I met him he was 19, this was perhaps a decade ago. I asked whether he has gone to the authorities or not. There is no such thing he said if I go there — they might even laugh and joke about me. My family hates me, and my relatives despise me, that I am a devil child. I still try to live, but I can’t — I don’t know who to tell or who to confide in.
Listening to his story, I was saddened. This boy who had suffered so much, yet still alive. I went to talk with his father, about this. He told me that he is a liar and cunt. He has no self-respect, and I just wished he had died so we would never have to face such scrutiny on his behalf. I wanted to understand the whole scenario, So I asked his big sister perhaps the one who believed him who is perhaps the reason he still believed he was innocent.
He told me that she tried raising her voice once, but she was told that how could she support a molester i.e. her brother when clearly he was the molested. She was smacked the woman card, and she should have shame on herself supporting such a cause. She told me her brother, tried to commit suicide once, by cutting himself and the second by jumping from the balcony.
One time, he failed and the other he got badly hurt and broke his arm. She didn’t know what could be done. So she asked him to please live for her sake as he was her only brother and she believed in his innocence even if the world didn’t.
I came back and asked the boy that I know the whole story now, what should we do. He asked me, that we shouldn’t do anything. I spend a lot of time during that summer with him helping him focus and building his resolve. We had a really good friendship.
Though other people around him still despised him. But I always showed compassion something no one really gave him. His own family treated him like a “thing” instead of a “human” being. They even used to call him by a horrible word, which means “bastard spawn.”
He had quit school when I met him as his parents told him that he deserved to die for driving their honour into the dirt. He was still fresh out of high school. I asked if I could manage his school fees, there was a school that takes children like him if he could want to go there and leave this hell hole. He replied, that’s perhaps the best thing someone could do but I don’t want to leave my home and my family especially my sister behind with these monsters who labelled me as one.
I asked if I could do something more for him, in the last days. He said that will I write to him if someday I had the power to write his story. I should. He said at least someday people would know what happened to me, maybe perhaps they might believe if it happens to someone they know. Maybe, they might preserve a boy’s sanctity as much as they preserved a girl’s. Perhaps, that would be a delightful thing to see, he whispered.
I met him, a few times afterwards. He had started working in a hair salon. He was working hard. He stopped living with his family but would visit his sister often. I would run to meet him, whenever I would see him with a hug. We would just hug each other for a while — I would ask if he is alright. He would say I have been doing okay. And then we would go have a drink at the local store while sharing our experiences.
He buried his pain deep inside and his sin. When he left again, I thought he would be happy, but He never really returned. Their family also moved out of that neighbourhood. And I left that place as well. The last time, I met him he said that molested men are never monsters. They are just men. If anyone would believe them then perhaps, they might be able to live good lives.
It is better to live with secrets than to die a free man.
This is what I believe he said, and I believed him. He was indeed convicted without proof. At his age, he might have been blamed for behaving badly. But if the situation was reversed it would be a different story. This has perhaps been, for many men I have met throughout the years. Each with a story of their own, of molestation, bullying, assault, conviction, and vice-versa.
When will we ever truly change our society, when will we change ourselves to accept one another? Why do we never listen to the signs? When is it enough? We do somethings without knowing even when it can happen and It happens but we still turn a blind eye towards such an issue. Towards men like him. He was but a child, whose life became his own prison. His experience became his crime. He was convicted as a molester.
There are many men who share the same story, of being harassed in such scenarios. They never talk about this because of the definition of manliness exhibited through religions, cultures, and society in general. I read somewhere once, that
If a man is molested — he loses his manliness.
These men are forever thrown into the trash, even men don’t have the tolerance to accept them. Some might even molest them further. Some will reject them, many will mock them and only a few will accept them.
We have this time, in this pandemic to think about the unspeakable horrors that happen behind closed doors, where no one is inspecting. It’s time, we talk about these issues. We talk about the trauma, these men face. We give them the room, and the space to come out. And I will tell you that at least 20% of all men have experienced such an incident in their lives. From my experiences where I stand from and whom I have met. There have been 1 in every 20 males.
There won’t be any hype, as men don’t feel pain and men don’t need security. I’m being honest. This is perhaps the sentiment of the modern world. Most men do feel fear while walking outside of other men. This is true. But people will laugh because that is what bystanders do. They laugh and drive many men to their demise.
Mental health is not a joke. And certainly, not for poor innocent men, who got their childhood stolen from them, their families thwarted away, their dignity stripped, and their life stabbed to death with insults and mocking.
I don’t know if my friend is alive. I hope and pray that he is every day. We should give people a chance to hear their side without compromise. Try to make good decisions with a calm mind, never letting rage get the better of us otherwise there are many boys who have fell prey to such a stigma and many still stay silent.
As they know it is better to live with secrets than to be stripped away from your innocence and your freedom of speech or moreover your life.
If he had stayed silent, he would have still his life with some help that I gave him if only he could have lived such a good life — but that’s what society demands from men, keep quiet, and move along. Nothing to see here, just keep quiet, keep your head down and get shoved otherwise face the wrath of the world and the horrible fate that awaits you, sadly.
This is his story, one that perhaps many can experience through his words, and occurrences shared with a witness during one grim evening under a juniper tree.
Thank you for reading.
Stay Blessed and Stay Safe!
With Love ❤️
