Friday, May 27, 2016

Head

So I've finally published the novel I've been writing on and off for the past ten years. It will go live on Amazon in about an hour and be available on Kindle. I'll have the paperback version out later this summer. I feel just a very solemn, tepid sense of relief about this, not any downright excitement yet, which I guess makes sense when something you've essentially been holding inside for so long is suddenly out in the world in front of everyone's judgement-eager eyes.

Will readers see the deeper message of the work? About how real the problem of child sexual abuse is? Or will they be too fixated on and horrified at the fact that Michael is a rapist and Claire throws kitchen knives at her wannabe suitors to think past any of that, to think: they weren't born like this; babies don't aspire to be this way; where could someone have stepped in to veer Claire and Michael away from perpetuating the abusive behaviors they endured as children - and, as a society, as parents, teachers, school counselors, police, journalists, writers, could we cut down on the tragically high number of sexual abuse incidents by investing more time and resources into the "trouble-maker" kids, instead of writing them off, sending them to special schools where all the other kids we've given up on go?

What if it were mandatory for children of abuse to be given free mental health services until they're, like, 25? Or for the rest of their lives? That would probably be a deterrent to them committing abuse themselves. Because we all know who abusers are, right? They are people who were abused as kids and weren't helped through it. Most abusers don't even know why they're doing it, or why they feel like doing it. Therapy will uncover why. And if the potential abusers know why, maybe it will appall them, and change something in their brain. What if there were some sort of audacious campaign, with billboards and stuff, even, that advertised: Feeling like touching a child? Call us instead! Just throwing that out there. Sure, it would need to be more eloquently worded, not quite so off-putting. But, you guys, half or more of all the children in America are sexually abused. When we consider all other types of child abuse - physical, verbal, emotional - the number rises even higher. That's fucking ridiculous. Are we a civilized, first world country? Because it feels like we're a country of fucking barbarians, actually. Why, why, why have we not come up with an at least half-way decent solution to making this go away? Of course, it's because we're a society that blames victims and doesn't want to falsely accuse our neighbor even if we sense he's looking at the little kid across the street kind of inappropriately.

Here's another idea, going back to the "what ifs" of solving this problem: What if, say, those mental health services an abused kid received throughout his or her childhood made them comfortable enough that when they're, say, a 21-year-old college student (still struggling from the trauma, as is the nature of these things), they can go into the campus counselor's office and admit, "I had thoughts of raping this girl at a party last night." Or, "When I'm student-teaching at the elementary school, I find myself wondering what it would be like to touch one of them. Can you help me sort through this?" And then the counselor just DOES. And of course removes the student from his or her elementary school duties. But there has to be somewhere would-be abusers can go before they offend. Once they offend, it's off with their heads. But, like I said, they aren't born wanting to be abusers, or abused. We, as a society, need to beat them to the punch. And, yes, it is a societal problem, even if it began in the privacy of a child's own home. Because the behaviors spillover on to us. It puts our kids in danger, costs us money, and negatively effects our quality of life.

So keep this in mind as you read my book, if you do. But even if you don't, keep this in mind anyway, then go out and call the cops for that child you know who coils at their father's touch.

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