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Stabroek News

When the boy is the victim (Pt I)
published: Monday | March 5, 2007

Paul H. Williams, Gleaner Writer


The cases of girls being sexually molested or raped by their stepfather are many, and the causes and consequences of such actions have been discussed and debated at length. Some of the victims' mothers, especially those who ignored their daughter's plight, have also borne: the brunt of the criticism. The stepfathers have been condemned. Some of the victims themselves have been blamed for encouraging the acts. Nevertheless, counselling services, and in some cases protective shelters, have been set up for victims. For they are girls, and must be protected, everybody agrees.

But what about the boys? Who is looking out for them? Yes, they too are molested. The incidents are underreported, for obvious reasons, and the boys suffer in silence, refusing to tell their story. Some of their parents, who are also usually embarrassed, refuse to deal with the matter. They cannot handle the shame, but neither can the boys. The result: men with deep emotional scars.

Larenz is one such young man, and he is ready to tell his story of being buggered by his stepfather.

Stepfather moves in

Roy, a friend of Larenz's mom, was making a regular visit to the boy's home. Larenz and his brother were nonchalant about him. He took them gifts, but that did not change how they felt about him. He became very visible in their home. Larenz admitted feeling uncomfortable around him. This discomfiture did not go undetected, as Roy commented on it. But Larenz played it off. Roy eventually moved in and was now de facto stepfather.

The relationship between them was very formal, less than cordial. Conversations were initiated by his mom, and they were normally of three sentences or fewer. Larenz tried to accept the fact that he was in their lives, but there was still some amount of awkwardness. He avoided him as much as possible as he was still uncomfortable around him. Yet, nothing prepared him for the ordeal he was to go through for the next three years.

One day, when he was 11 years old, a tired Larenz went home from school to take a nap. In his sleep, he felt someone on top of him. To his horror, it was Roy. The man overpowered him and removed his clothes. He was at a loss, wondering what was going on. He proceeded to rape Larenz, telling him in the process, vindictively, how much he had wanted to do it, and how finally he had got what he wanted. The pain was excruciating. He felt as if he were being ripped apart. His stepfather then left him bleeding on the bed, but threatening Larenz and his mom should the incident be disclosed.

Though he could not understand why his stepfather buggered him, he blamed himself. Then, he went to the bathroom, where he soaked himself in hot water. He locked in himself for about two hours. When he refused to open the door, Roy kicked it in. Upon Larenz's mom's return, Roy lied about the broken bathroom lock, and behaved as if nothing happened.

But, Larenz sensed some amount of paranoia. Roy would seldom leave him and his mom in the same room, perhaps afraid of Larenz telling on him. Larenz himself was going through turmoil.

"For me, it was difficult ... I didn't know how to manoeuvre the situation, I could not tell anybody ... I felt unsafe in my own house because he now had access to my house, he had the opportunity, he has my mom ... I was now in his hand."

It would have appeared so, because it happened again, two weeks after the first incident, when the physical wounds were yet to heal. And, it happened again, and again, and again, often when Larenz's mom was away working overseas. His personality had changed and his older brothers noticed.

Larenz: "My grades started dropping. I started wearing mostly black clothes. I became very dark and Gothic ... and started piercing ... even my belly button." This switch to the dark side was Larenz's rebellion against being good. He had always been good, but he saw where it got him. To him, the whole philosophy of 'if you do good, good will follow you' was rubbish. His mom, too, saw his physical transformation, but did not stop to find out why. However, when she saw his pierced belly button she was livid.

This pleased Larenz.

"It hurt her, but for me I got pleasure out of it because somebody else was hurting."

Larenz was now living in his own world, suffering, and suffering. Nevertheless, his grades improved, but he felt he was just pleasing his mom. Larenz: "My grades were up, things were happening for me, yet still I didn't see it ... I felt like I was just going through the motion."

The guidance counsellor at school was concerned about the change in his demeanour. His mom was called in, but the matter was not discussed. His suffering continued; Roy was in charge, and his mom was still clueless, even after three years.

It was now time for her to make another of her trips overseas, this time for three months. The thought of being alone with Roy for three months was very uncomfortable. Larenz: "I said three months in this situation is worse than death, and I chose death." He made his plans.

The evening before his mom should have left, Larenz was home alone. He went to the supermarket, to get razors, because none was at home. He told the cashier his mom sent him. Back at home, he toured the house for what he thought was the final time.

Larenz: "For me, it was me saying goodbye to a place that had become a prison, because in this house so many things had happened ? This man had total control of my house because he was now the head of the house ...

"As mother's boyfriend he made a lot of the decisions, everything I did was controlled by him."

He went to his room, and lay on the bed. Larenz: "I replayed every time it happened, every time he did it, and the interesting thing about it was that towards the end of it I stopped hurting, I stopped fighting, let him do what he had to do."

He analysed the situation wondering whether he was to be blamed, and why he allowed Roy to have his way. But, whatever it was, it was a situation in which he was not prepared to live any longer. He moved to the bathroom, razors in hand.

In the tub he lay, slashing his left wrist; blood started to flow. He attempted to cut the right one, but the skin refused to break. Then it was on to his heels. Rivulets of blood seeped from the wounds inflicted on them. And, he lay there, waiting to bleed to death.

Continues next Monday.

bludums@yahoo.com

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