Our team once received a call from one of our Vaaradhi program kids from West Godavari, she was 14. Her parents passed away. So she lived with her brother & grandmother. An elder boy in the neighborhood inappropriately touched and abused her. Her brother thrashed her over this. To make things much worse, the whole village started blaming her, hurling crude words and slights. This is a classic example of Victim Blaming.

The poor girl was pleading us to join her at a hostel. She could not bear all the shaming and Victim Blaming. Our team soon planned a suitable intervention appropriate for the situation and went ahead with it.

Beating the Broken: What is Victim Blaming?

A few of us were discussing this, venting out our frustrations:

“She might have been forced or blackmailed. Maybe she was not aware of what was going on. Maybe she was too scared and froze. She was a kid, a 14-year-old kid man!”

“Isn’t it frustrating? The abuser molested the little child. But unfortunately, society is busy in Victim Blaming instead of abuser thrashing. The abusers force the child physically and the soceity forces its judgements and opinions, molesting the victim mentally. Shame on us ya!”

 

“Maybe the guy was exploiting her, taking advantage of the age gap and her vulnerability. Maybe she was being manipulated to think he cares or loves her. Maybe she liked it. She was an orphan, she was 14! Can she know any better? Why can’t they understand that?”

Every time I hear a story like that of the little girl who was beaten up for getting abused, it infuriates me. Not just about the physical beating, but also about the invisible dirt we rub on a victim’s already wounded mind.

We can’t expect others from the “society” to do much in the best interest of other’s kids. But sometimes, even if they have the best of intentions, the ones who are supposed to protect the child end up breaking them. This article is an attempt to prevent that by showing you the child’s perspective.

If you were sexually abused as a child or know someone who was, the story might make you rethink a lot of things. It might give you an idea about how to or how not to cause further damage to a survivor of abuse in the name of “teaching”, “caring” or “protecting”.

This is the story of me and an untold number of kids that remain unheard and invisible. This is the tale of Beating the Broken.

The Day all Butterflies Disappeared:

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, I’d be airily browsing a book on this cozy terrace nook by the stairs, when a herd of tranquil dancing wings would appear out of our neem tree. Taking in the warm breeze infused with the faint smell of the white floret bunches, I’d run over a book of scientist biographies, scribbling fun maths theorems, or scrawl in my diary.

But that day, my legs were quivering & it was dark. I could hardly peddle through the last 2 streets to get to that warm house I grew up in. I could see my father and mother returning from somewhere. They must have been worried. I was late by almost an hour.

I finally reached home exhausted, shaken, frightened, yet relieved. My dad’s hard slap across my face only jolted me further. I was shaking under the dark gloomy trees near the gate. “Don’t beat her on the road, let’s go in” I saw my mother approaching.

Thanks for the “save”, mom!

Too exhausted physically and mentally to even climb the stairs- I felt the uneasy feeling rise as I reached the blue door. On any other day, I’d feel relieved that I could now eat all food, watch TV, and pester my sister till I partially fall asleep on her. But today, walking into the blue door felt eerily scary.

The two ribboned braids were giving me a bloody headache. I was annoyed with them. What did they do other than getting me 2 minutes late for school on every consecutive day?

Oh- wait! Those braids made my guys reprimand me E-V-E-R-Y D-A-Y about being a lazy bug & not waking up early enough!

I sat down, trying to make sense of what had happened in the past couple of hours in my life. That is when I noticed that my parents were getting louder by the minute- I was not paying attention. For how long were they talking to me? Did I just make it worse by not paying attention? Attention Sai! Concentrate…

An hour or more of screaming, questioning, and investigations ensued. Let me bore you to death with the details:

“Didn’t we tell you from childhood to never go anywhere with strangers? What were you thinking?”

• • “Two uncles came, they told me they were your friends from office. They wanted to give you some documents. So I went with them.”

“I told you a million times to wake up early and do yoga. In times like these, it’ll help your mind function better. But you never listen! How could you believe just because someone “said” something?! Why don’t you ever apply your mind!?”

• • “They.. mentioned your name. I did get scared after a while and told them you’d be worried, they said they’d call you up and explain. I thought…”

“How idiotic!! How difficult is it to find out our names if someone wants to kidnap you? Do you have any idea how tensed we were for the last one hour?”

• • “I’m sorry. I…”

“Of course, she doesn’t care about how scared we’d feel. She throws her lunch away carelessly every now and then.

You never realize how much effort goes into ensuring that you recieve this quality of life and education. Do you know how hard it was for us growing up? We never had any of these luxuries that we toil so hard to give you.చదువు మానిపించేసి, ఇంట్లో కుర్చోపెట్టి అంట్లు తోమిస్తే తెలుస్థుంది.”

Oh no, they’re bringing up my lunch dumping. I’m in big trouble. Seems like I’m about to be thrashed. It is better to play safe and stay mute. Besides, they’ll cancel TV time and watch like hawks for every mistake if I mess this up.

 

My heart, stomach, and brain were jiggling in an unsettling way. Why am I sweating like this? Did I eat too much? 

“…You don’t know how tough the outside world is! If we send you to a hostel, then you’ll know. They’ll wake you up at 5 AM and the food will taste bad, then you’ll realize the value of mom & dad…”

Damn it! Not the hostel talk again! This is escalating. We are past the “you got less marks and are about to be thrashed” vibe. I shouldn’t have broken the white teacup. Ever since I broke it, my mom is out to get me every chance she got. I really should have been more careful.

I’m slowly realizing how devastating the past hour of my life was. Am I doomed? Will they really join me in a hostel this time? or.. Will they wake me up early every day and make me study to punish?

Tears were trickling down my eyes, nose, and… my skin! Is the fan even turned on!?

Shouting intervened my thoughts:

“… అందుకే అనేది .Classలో marks వస్తే సరిపోదు! Open your mouth and answer your mom! Learn how to respect your parents first! You have ALWAYS been irresponsible and stupid. Speak up! Tell us what happened?”

• • “Nothing. I started crying loudly and a few people who were passing by- slowed down. I don’t know what happened, they left in a hurry.”

Ok. I lied. Not completely, but I hid a few details. I am too exhausted to get into this fighting match now. My limbs were aching. If only I had more presence of mind to not follow those uncles in my return back from school, I’d be asleep by now!

“HOW STUPID CAN YOU GET? You are never aware of what goes on around you. You leave the lights on always. Last week, you even broke the white cup. You are always in your own bubble! No wonder you did this today. I’m not surprised.”

Those two uncles started rubbing me for some weird reason and I can still feel the yucky feeling way too clearly. I then started crying loudly as an instant response. A few people who were passing by- slowed down.

The uneasy shiver in the back of my spine is still there, isn’t it?

I don’t know what happened after that. They just left me there. I knew I had to be a bit relieved that they left. But amidst my sobs, they left me in the middle of nowhere! I remember calling out to them: WON’T YOU DROP ME AT HOME!!!? My Parents will scold me because… I’m late!!”

Maybe I could tell just this bit to amma and daddy. Perhaps I’ll get some discount on their anger? I asked those guys to drop me, of course, I was responsible. Of course, I knew they’d be worried! Right?

I still cringe every time I go back to that. “Won’t you drop me at home?” How lame! What was I thinking!?

My thoughts were again jolted back into reality. I must have missed a lot of what they just said.

“By god’s grace, nothing terrible happened. Else, we’d all be hanging ourselves now…”

These guys are really scaring me now- talking about joining me in a hostel and GROUP HANGING!? I think I did myself a favor by hiding the worst parts of what happened today.

Good thinking, Sai! You are not as stupid as they think you are. Lucky save!

Quick! Say something…

• • I’m sorry. I…

It went on further. But I don’t remember much of it now. I pretended to sleep just so that they would leave me alone. As exhausted as I felt, I couldn’t sleep that day. The events of the day kept flooding in my head and I felt suffocated.

Curled on my bed in a fetal position, pulling a blanket from over my head, I patiently put up with the stream of tears that were flooding my face rather uncomfortably. I couldn’t move, because I was pretending to sleep, remember?

You know… That day, inside the room I called mine all my life, surrounded by people I called my family, I felt more scared and lonely than I ever did. I wish grandma was here now! More warm streams of tears gushed out as I recollected her warmth. అమ్మమ్మా, ఇప్పుడు ఇక్కడ నువ్వుంటే బావుండు. “I wish you were here, grandma. I miss you.”

I tried not to snort, but the nose was busy getting blocked every 2 seconds. So, I silently started breathing from my mouth to avoid grabbing attention to my waking state. Smart! Naah?

Up until then, I thought I could run back to my parents if something terrible happened. But that day, it felt like I had to protect myself from a lot of things, but mainly mom and dad. That day, the house didn’t feel like home, it turned hostile.

I probably cried myself to sleep. That was the first memory of me feeling like a psychological orphan. I got no one by my side that day. I remember having countless sleepless nights, followed by cranky- late mornings and inescapable lectures on discipline ever since.

And from then on, I started hiding stuff a little more from my family. I spent less and less time with family and friends; also with people in general. The lazy afternoon reading slots enjoying the serenity of the leaves became things of the past. I’d sit under the tree shade in my house, hiding from my family- clouded with thoughts that would exhaust me.

So, I distracted myself- with books, homework, theories, maths, science, prayers, and food. I couldn’t bear my own thoughts or feel my own feelings. I was scared they’d break me if I didn’t distract from all that.

But the butterflies couldn’t distract me anymore. The butterflies disappeared after that, you know?

Why the caged bird doesn’t sing:

Quick facts: A kid’s decision to tell their family about their abuse gets decided way before they even face abuse. When teachers thrash kids in the classroom and when parents beat children every time a kid makes a mistake, it sets a fear monged dynamic between the child & its elder world.

This is probably why children don’t feel comfortable seeking help from parents or elders if they ever face abuse. But they feel safe sharing it with non- judgemental people- mostly friends who don’t do Victim Blaming.

• Abuse thrives on secrecy. Victim Blaming and the fear of it empowers the abusers.
• When the child victim does not seek help, it increases the chances of the abuse becoming repetitive.
• Children are mostly scared of elders blaming them in return (Victim Blaming). This disables them from taking the help they need.

Our team is working on bringing more real-life stories of Child Sexual Abuse to create awareness on the after-effects of abuse. Sharing such case studies can help the survivors heal. Their close circle can understand and support them in a better way if they understand them better.

Feel free to write to us or talk to us about your stories of abuse if you are willing to. Remember, our team is always there to help you through this.

Much love,

Pavani Sairam.

This is the second article in the CSA case studies series.

Read more on the issue here: What is CSA?