Victims of sexual abuse will disclose their painful story to an average of nine people before anyone believes them.
Michael E. Phillips
My wife and I strolled along hand in hand. It wasn’t often we took a break from our four kids to enjoy one another. We walked past the local movie theater, and I waved to some people I knew. This is the beauty of living in a small town: you know at least half the people you run into.
“Hey Mike, can I talk to you a minute?” a voice called from behind me. I recognized Gary’s voice. Our local social worker, he attended our church, and we’d collaborated many times.
“What’s up, Gary?”
“Has Steve come to talk to you?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to him for weeks.”
Gary paused. Internal alarm bells began sounding as I watched his tremulous expression. Obviously he wanted to say something serious but didn’t know how.
“Is Steve in trouble, Gary?”
“He sure is! I mean, this is really big, Mike.” My wife looked back at us a few paces behind her. Gary noticed her and nodded a greeting. Then he drew me close. “He’s been charged with sexually abusing his foster daughter — ten separate incidents. He could be put away for five years.”
“It can’t be true,” I said in disbelief. “Has anyone checked out her story? She was abused before, you know, and she could have …”
“He already admitted it, Mike.”
Gaining Background
As my wife and I walked away from that deadening disclosure, I thought back to my first association with child sexual abuse. A woman in our church phoned me one night after supper, wanting to talk about sexual abuse. She queried me to find out all I knew on the subject. Within three minutes I had given her all I knew, and most of that was bluffing.
“Would you like to know more, Pastor?” Ah, the golden question! I’d used it in sharing the gospel. Now it worked with me.
“I guess it would be helpful to know more about sexual abuse,” I admitted.
Edythe told of a meeting that Friday in the high school gym. She let me know that many members of our congregation were going to be there. The more she talked, the more my curiosity mounted: Is something going on in our town I’m not aware of?
I went with a single objective: find out the facts. The “facts” they covered were not easy to listen to, however. To this point, I’d locked sexual abuse in my personal Pandora’s box with other distant evils: homosexuality, drug abuse, shoplifting, MTV. I reasoned that these things wouldn’t go away even if I launched a crusade of Crusade proportions. But I came away from that meeting — and others with church members — accepting greater responsibility for children who have been sexually abused.
I’ve been a director of our community support group, casa (Communities Against Sexual Abuse) for nearly four years. When I began, my greatest hurdle was the feeling of revulsion. In addition, because I lacked training, I felt out of place both professionally and emotionally. But thanks to caring believers, I received help in the form of necessary information and practical advice.
Perhaps my greatest shock came that night at the public meeting. We were shown a short film chronicling the history of three girls who had been sexually abused. A woman told us about the frequency of abuse in Canada (which is almost identical to the statistics for the U.S.): an estimated one out of four girls will be abused in some way before the age of 18. The figure is exactly half of that with boys.
The implications took a while to sink in. That could well mean one out of four women in my church had been sexually abused, one out of eight men. That was difficult to accept. But two weeks later I received some confirmation.
An older woman in our church came into my office one afternoon. “Pastor, I saw you at the sexual abuse meeting last month. Are you interested in helping people who’ve been hurt that way?”
“Sure, I’m here to help anyone,” I replied with false bravado.
She believed my half-truth. “Good, then you can start with me.”
For the next hour and a half, she poured out her hurt. She had been abused by her father, her two brothers, two boys who lived next door, and her 75-year-old grandfather. Never before had she told anyone besides her mother — who wouldn’t believe her.
I was shocked, uneasy. This isn’t the substance of normal conversations. And I know I’m not alone. Recently, I had a pastor tell me how uncomfortable he felt around younger abuse victims. His personal struggle was easy to understand: if he is too warm and understanding, perhaps the victim will perceive it as a come-on; if he is too distant, she won’t trust him. So how do you help the victim while remaining distant enough from her situation to be objective?
I have found four axioms that can balance the concepts of empathy and objectivity:
Listen Ready to Believe
I believed the woman was telling me the truth, but the hardest part to comprehend was her mother’s refusal to believe her. I later discovered victims of sexual abuse will disclose their painful story to an average of nine people before anyone believes them. The horror of this woman’s painful story is that some victims never make nine attempts; they give up right away.
This is where the victim will feel the most anxiety at the onset. Unfortunately, there is usually ample reason for feeling that they will not be believed. For starters, they’re usually told by the abuser that no one will believe their story. For a child who respects adults, this comes as a horrendous blow. His or her only escape from one adult’s transgression is the righteous indignation of another adult. When a child becomes convinced that all adults are skeptical, it becomes difficult to make the effort to reveal the painful story.
One 12-year-old girl was abused for three years by her father. Since he was a policeman, the girl knew well that most abuse victims are not believed — her father had told the family stories of misused children and how no one had pursued their complaints. Finally, the girl had had enough, and she told her tale to a social worker. Her story was accepted as truth, and an interview was set up. Unfortunately, the social worker forgot to tell the police the abuser was an officer. When the initial person to enter the interview room was a uniformed police officer, the girl began to weep uncontrollably.
The background of the child needs to be taken into account.
Usually a child has fought through myriad helpers before finding someone who will do something concrete.
Most people assume “men of God” are interested in truth, so many victims open up to pastors after refusing to give details to others. I begin any interview with repeated assurances that they will be believed, and I continue to reinforce that principle. At the end of the first session, I tell the child I believe every word that’s been said. If for some reason I can’t honestly say this, I tell the child I believe he or she has been terribly hurt and the hurt can be stopped.
It helps to remain outwardly calm. If I’m visibly shocked by the language and particulars of the sexual acts described, the child will interpret that as disbelief. Because the child has heard all types of descriptive words for sex, the explanation may sound coarse and confusing. If I need clarification, I can’t be afraid to ask for it.
If I’m going to help victims of sexual abuse, I need to make a rigid decision to believe anyone who discloses personal abuse. In the last five years, that resolve has not led me astray. I have yet to find one child who lied about being sexually abused. More often than not, such children would rather say nothing, for the pain of being so intimately used is like an open wound that will not heal.
There are cases of children who have made up sexual-abuse stories to get someone in trouble. Statistics tell us one in a thousand disclosures will be false. Most of these are misunderstood statements made to parents who turn frantic. The rest are usually adolescent girls, afraid they may be pregnant due to a sexual encounter with a boyfriend. But false claims are easy to check; the story will change. In addition, those who make false claims usually say the assailant was unknown to them.
Among the pre-adolescent victims, false claims are virtually nonexistent. Small children simply do not make up explicit sexual details. How can they depict something accurately without prior experience? I intervened recently for a 4-year-old whose mother was worried about abuse. The child was repeatedly drawing phallic images with accurate detail. After gentle questioning, the child revealed that her babysitter had been forcing her to have oral sex with him.
Children often come into the counseling interviews wrapped in timidity. In such cases, a superb tool is the Anatomically Correct Doll Family. The doll’s body parts are completely accurate. The idea is to give the child opportunity to choose which members of the family are going to be talked about. They pick two dolls to represent the abuse duo and manipulate the dolls to show what happened, something they could never accomplish with words.
Blow the Whistle Wisely
No one likes to talk about sexual abuse. People don’t want to admit it happens in their town. But one fact brings even louder howls: the family connection. Eighty percent of all sexual abuse occurs within the family. Fathers and stepfathers are the largest offender group. Then comes other male relatives, then mothers, then baby-sitters. Only 9 percent of abusers are unknown to their victims. This ends the myth of the evil man behind the bushes wearing a trench coat.
Because of this, I must exercise great discernment. The victim and the abuser are often in the same family. In the case of Steve and his foster daughter, they went to the same church — mine! It’s not unusual to want to ignore the incident, to put it out of one’s mind and not stir up trouble. Even so, I must take the responsibility of informing the nonoffending parent about the details of the abuse.
It isn’t easy to tell such news to an unsuspecting or a desperately collaborating parent, but I’ve found the best way is the direct way. I often say something like this: “Your child found it too difficult to talk with you about this subject, so I’m compelled to tell you myself. ——— is being abused sexually by your husband.”
This head-on approach has two advantages. First, the shock value definitely gets the parent’s attention. Second, if I begin to waffle and say, “Well, we’re not really sure if it’s true, but we think maybe there could be something possibly wrong …” then the parent will rarely act on what I say. If I come across unsure, I give the parent license to act as if nothing is happening, and that’s completely counterproductive. I need to impart a sense of certainty and urgency.
Parents don’t want to believe what I’m telling them. For that reason, I like to take a recording of my conversation with their child. When I first talk with a child, often I’ll record, with permission, the conversation on a cassette tape. It doesn’t seem to affect the child, and it helps me gain the trust of the parent. Once a parent hears the child’s voice tell the awful story, denial is difficult.
Blowing the whistle in an effective way often requires courage. A young girl told me her cousin was being forced to have sex with her step-father. I informed the social worker in our town, who immediately began an investigation. However, this worker was ill trained and approached the abuser instead of the victim. He denied ever having done it. Not only did the social worker believe him without interviewing the children, she told him who had made the allegation and who reported it. This left the young girl and me in a vulnerable position.
But another frightening statistic makes it worth the risk: An abuser will violate an average of seventy victims over his lifetime. The Vancouver Province newspaper reported a British Columbia teacher admitted to abusing 2,800 children, recording the details in a faithfully kept journal. Therefore, to ignore even one case of abuse can lead to any number of painful events.
(Most states and provinces require that any disclosure of sexual abuse be reported to the police. There is only one exception: when the sexual actions are obviously exploration and curiosity on the part of another child. That is not considered abuse. All other cases must be reported.)
Support the Victim
How to help the victims? Safe, reliable information is available from good secular material, which you can probably get from local social workers. It takes a strong stomach to wade through some of the stories, but we need the perspective. There is more help, however, than is found in these resources. Pastors and churches can offer unconditional love, the kind only God can supply.
Many counselors rely on techniques to build the child’s self-esteem. I find it more effective to sidestep the question of worth and show victims consistent, unconditional love. Since love is really what they have been robbed of, it is what Christian counselors can try to give back to them.
I met Yvonne for the first time when her foster parents brought her to an evening service. She literally hid behind the back pew, crawling on all fours as she chased imaginary animals. She was lost in the convalescent world of dreams and ideals, rainbows and perfect pals — a favorite retreat of an abused child. She glanced occasionally at whoever was speaking, but her attention span was limited to a fleeting flash away from the inner game she was playing. I assumed she was an introvert, afraid of personal contact.
I learned, however, to dismiss any first impressions I had of Yvonne. When we called upon those needing the elders to pray for healing, she marched to the middle of the crowd and plunked herself down. She told the assembly how her father had sexually abused her for six years and how she wanted God to clean out the “awful feeling” she had inside. The elders looked at me, half in panic and half in shock. How were they supposed to pray? We had never covered this in any of our elders’ meetings.
Just then, a woman stood and approached the girl. Tenderly, she cupped Yvonne’s small hands in hers. She smiled invitingly at her and softly called for the men to come closer and lay on their hands — the symbol of identification and faith. This woman’s prayer was full of biblical pathos, a heartfelt cry to God on behalf of the wounded. Inwardly, I praised the Father for sending his servant at just this moment and for laying his healing hands on the girl.
Watch for Surprises
In working with abuse victims, it helps to remember that the effects of abuse are often indirect. I keep these phenomena in mind:
• The Snow White syndrome. Many abused children have an experience not unlike Snow White. Just as Snow White was poisoned and slept until Prince Charming came along, so the victim of sexual abuse often “sleeps” through abuse, hoping it will go away. One young girl even convinced herself it was a girl whom she disliked who was the victim. This girl willingly accompanied her father on excursions to places she knew abuse was likely to occur, hoping each time it wouldn’t happen. When it did, she transferred the abuse to her enemy while retreating into her private world. For years she maintained her father was a good man. This is the case with many abuse victims.
Because of this, I make a point never to belittle the offender; it turns the victim against me. Most often, strangely enough, a love relationship still exists. Children hope the “wicked witch” (the offender) will turn out to be “Prince Charming” after all.
I try to emphasize the volitional character of forgiveness. Forgiveness can be (and often must be) a dispassionate, calculated act of the will. When God sees the sincerity of our forgiveness, he then causes the feeling to be released. I find that even preschoolers can understand what it means to forgive. The advantage Christian counselors have is that we can introduce Jesus Christ to the victim.
Somewhere in counseling I like to mention that all people are sinners, but God will never fail to be perfect. Since victims desire a Prince Charming, they are often prepared to accept the salvation and the help the Heavenly Father offers. This applies especially to adults, but it also can apply to children.
While the Snow White syndrome isn’t all that uncommon, when I find a victim who seems completely withdrawn from life, or one suffering from physiological or neurotic problems, I realize something deeper and more difficult is at play. I don’t hesitate referring this kind of victim to a Christian physician or psychologist.
• The pain/pleasure element. After working with Yvonne over two years, I found she kept mentioning how guilty she felt. Her story was similar to many I have heard since. Her father treated her as a lover and not as a daughter. He tried to convince Yvonne that she was his mistress and he was doing her a favor by teaching her about sex “the safe and secure way.” He was always careful to use condoms so she wouldn’t get pregnant.
Her guilt lay in the feelings she experienced during the sex. Though her mind was completely repulsed, her body did experience a degree of pleasure. As she entered puberty, the pleasure level increased. Though she knew what her father was doing had to be wrong, her body occasionally would respond. Long after her father went to jail, she felt latent feelings of remorse for the pleasure her body had felt, and that left her confused.
I carefully instructed her that our bodies are built to feel pleasure even when we don’t want them to. I had to reinforce this many times, especially as she began to feel sexual urges toward classmates. I explained that sex was more than self-gratification. The Bible shows it at its best as selfless love in the marital relationship. Eventually she came to accept this as the proper definition.
A victim should never feel bad because of an automatic physical response. Nor should a victim feel abuse was deserved because of the lack of resistance. I stress the idea that no child ever should be forced to have sex with an adult. When it does happen, the adult must bear full responsibility. This is important, since most victims tend to find reasons to blame themselves.
• The need for proper distance. I’ve learned to steer away from making any long-term promises to the victim of sexual abuse. I need to make sure the victim knows my role and that I cannot be on twenty-four-hour call.
This is as much for the victim as it is for my own sanity. The victims often feel the need to cling to those who show love and affection. To compensate for the lack in the past, they often will demand too much from the counselor. One young victim of abuse phoned me an average of three to four times a day. At least once a day, she would ask me to come over to counsel her. She frequently hinted at suicide, as if my refusal would set off a regrettable but inevitable chain of events.
I finally had to tell her, “You just can’t keep calling me like this. Let me tell you the reasons for your calls as I see them.” I went on to tell her my understanding of why she was calling: a strong need for affirmation, her dependency, her fear of being rejected.
The answer to her needs was to involve her in the lives of several women in the church. I let them in on the girl’s situation, after asking the girl if I could. She had told others already, so I wasn’t breaking her confidence. Then I followed up to make sure she wasn’t latching on to one of these women as a private counselor-on-call, as she had with me. I also encouraged the victim to join a larger group, such as a Bible study or a prayer circle. This allowed her to learn to open up to others, and it offered the church the opportunity to minister to her.
Keeping a proper distance doesn’t preclude showing signs of affection or warmth. It’s okay to touch or hold the abuse victim, exercising the same precautions I would with any other counselee. For younger victims, sexual abuse is not so much sexual as it is abuse. They don’t think much in sexual terms. They especially crave affection that isn’t sexually oriented, that doesn’t offend their nascent sense of dignity. Because of this, I’m not against offering a warm hug when appropriate or communicating approval through a pat on the back.
One caution: Sexual abuse is a cyclical problem; most abusers were themselves abused as children. For this reason, I work to keep victims from positions of responsibility over small children. Since sexual abuse is a power trip, one way to regain lost control is to abuse someone else. Therefore, I try to find places where a victim can receive acceptance by peers and near peers, and I want to keep a victim out of babysitting or teaching positions.
Help the Family
The family of a sexual abuse victim feels a bitter sense of betrayal. In the case of the family whose child has been abused by a relative, the imprisoned or banished loved one is anathema! The family is expected to shun the abuser and even to be glad he is gone.
But consider the price the family must pay after a disclosure:
1. Loss of income.
2. Loss of community support. Who wants to associate with a family that allows such atrocities?
3. Loss of residence. Often through community pressure and the added dimension of repeated harassment by the abuser, a great many families find it easier to move somewhere else. In many cases the abuser is the sole wage earner, and the remaining family cannot pay the mortgage and must move.
4. Loss of respect for mother. Most abused kids blame the nonoffending parent (most often the mother). As the other adult authority figure, she is assumed to have purposely ignored the abuse. As a result, there is often an acting-out period by the victim. This may include serious problems such as alcohol and drug addiction, running away from home, prostitution, and petty thievery. Abused boys often will become violent. Fire setting is common.
So what can be done for the family? First, the mother needs loving and long-lasting support from church members. Churches may consider offering financial support, since most public agencies will not help in abuse situations.
Second, I find it important to interview the siblings. It is rare to have one victim in a family, and the siblings may need special counseling, too.
Third, in cases where the abuser is not a family member, family members often feel a great deal of resentment and anger. One temperate gentleman in our body took on a Mr. Hyde personality when he learned of his daughter’s sexual assault. This smoldered for many months. But instead of enacting revenge upon the perpetrator, he took it out on other family members. He became sullen and ornery, expecting perfection from the others, while excusing his own mistakes. God confronted him eventually during a sermon, and that week he asked forgiveness of his family. Had I been watching for this possibility beforehand, I may have been able to help that family avoid a lot of grief.
Finally, most families need to be freed of guilt. Everyone seems to bear the guilt of not aiding the victim. They often track through the events perpetually to rediscover what could have been done differently. I sat in a seminar recently, in which the speaker told of her peculiar reaction to guilt. She knew her father was abusing her younger sister, so to spare the child, she played up to her father, becoming sexually aggressive. He began to use her as well as her sister. She carried the guilt of both cases of abuse almost to the point of suicide — thirty years later.
I urge support groups for victims and families. When guided by a sympathetic pastor or lay leader, they can become a unique group in which guilt can be talked over and prayed out. It’s not an easy or a quick remedy, but it works.
I read this account written by a 9-year-old girl who refused to tell anyone how she was abused:
I am not being good. I feel bad. My tummy hurts and I want to yell. I’m mad. Mad and bad. They hurt little girls. They make them mad and bad. Did the brothers ever get you? It hurts badder than my dad. When I talk about it I don’t feel good. I feel bad and dirty too. I want to hurt me. Then I will feel better. Do you not like me now? You will not want to hug such a bad girl.
Sadly, we can’t hug this little girl, but we’ll meet others like her, others who need our hugs and our love and the best of our care. They’re the victims. God’s love — through us — is the answer.
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