Finding A Voice: Taking My Abuser to Court

I was nine years-old when I was sexually abused by a neighbor. The experience itself was horrific, but to deny the event is to deny my subsequent metamorphosis. The abuse initially made me withdraw and disconnect. I became distrustful of even my closest family members and friends. I felt dirty, broken, and worthless. There was even a point when I wanted to die due to the trauma that I experienced. I still struggle with these feelings, but through therapy and the support of my friends and family, I have chosen to incorporate them into a therapeutic agenda for my future well-being.

At this time, I am not going to discuss the details of what happened when I was nine. It is simply an event that happened in my life, and I am continually striving to move past what has happened. I will, however, discuss some of the thoughts and emotions that I’ve had as I grow up and have been able to more fully process what I went through.

When my neighbor abused me, it was not the first time that it had happened. He was the second of what would come to be a total of four people. The first time, I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t even know that it was wrong for an adult to do something like that to a child. In fact, I was told that it was a normal part of growing up and because it was someone close to me, I believed him. When it happened the second time, a short time later, it seemed that what the first man said had been correct. Afterall, why would two people do the same thing if it was not considered normal? It was not until I was reading something for school that I found out that what these men had done was not normal. Eventually, I moved away, and I finally felt ready to tell a family member what had happened with the first individual. He was arrested, but ultimately, the charges were dismissed. After going through the court system and being evaluated at a local center for abused children, I decided that I would never talk to anyone about what happened with my neighbor; it was easier not to say anything.

I was quite content with keeping it a secret, and I kept the secret for nearly ten years. In the past year, however, I have realized that I was not as content as I thought that I was. That is why, in September of 2016, I finally told someone what happened when I was nine. She was, and is, supportive of me and all of my endeavors. Even though I told her what happened, I did not tell her my neighbor’s name. That was something that I was not willing to share at that point in time.

As I began to process the trauma that I had experienced, I realized that I did not want him to be given the opportunity to harm any more children. In October of 2016, I spoke his name for the first time. It was terrifying. I, of course, knew what the consequences of saying his name would be. He was arrested in November of 2016, and I was forced into the process getting ready to go to trial against the man who stole my childhood.

After nearly a year and a half of trial prepping, having my entire life examined through a microscope by a private investigator, and losing the majority of my family, the case against my abuser was dropped two days before the trial was set to begin. I was, in a word, devastated. I had dredged up so many memories that I had not allowed myself to think about for nearly ten years, and to me it felt as if it was all for nothing. I felt utterly powerless.

In order to take back some of my power, I had to make a few decisions about my life. For example, I refuse to be a statistic. According to statistics, I should have dropped out of high school, self-harmed, and degraded myself further with promiscuity. Instead, I became one of four valedictorians in my high school and am on the path to accomplishing my lifelong dream of becoming a nurse. Instead of failing, I am thriving. My neighbor dominated my childhood, but his role ended with my resolve to move forward. I will not allow him to have power over my life any longer. While this statement sounds great on paper, it is much harder to accomplish in life.

I have also realized that having a support system is crucial for success. In November of 2016, when I had to go to court and testify in front of the Grand Jury, a teacher of mine went with me. She knew the situation, and she knew that I was planning on going alone. She asked me if it would be alright if she went with me and having her there was a tremendous relief. She did not ask me about what happened in the courtroom, she did not ask me if I was ok, she was simply there for me.

Sexual abuse is a horrific part of a lot of people’s lives. It changes everything. In my case, it has affected how I trust other people, specifically men, and it has affected other aspects of my life as well. I have learned, however, that this is not who I am as a whole. This is a tiny part of me that I will carry forever. There have, and will continue, to be hard days, but I will continue moving forward. I have finally found my voice.