A Difficult Post for a Difficult Day

In every way, sexual abuse of children is an atrocity. It’s reprehensible, unforgivable, and disgusting. It’s a vile attack on the most innocent, trusting members of any society- the ones trusting us, the “big people,” to keep them safe. 

Unfortunately, it is not uncommon. Often, the abuser is not just a trusted adult in the child’s life, but a member of their own family. The abuser manipulates the child into believing that the abuse is normal, or that it is somehow the child’s fault. The abuser takes an impressionable child, learning so much about the world around them, and robs them of any true chance to know, instinctively, what their boundaries are; what is okay and not okay. They become even more helpless.

It is something we hear of often down here. Each time, it’s like a punch to the stomach. An uncle, a brother, a father... Someone that this child, who we have come to know and love so much, trusted in that innocent, complete way that children trust; someone violated this child. Sometimes, desperate mothers sell their children to strangers for sexual acts. Several children in the program were victimized this way before the age of five years old.

Working with sick children, with disabled children, with abandoned children, with the poorest of the poor’s children... It’s all challenging. As a caregiver, and someone who is in some way temporarily responsible for some aspect of these children’s daily lives, sexual abuse is the one issue that absolutely undoes me.

I think I speak for many people when I say that, in this field, you develop a fortitude that you never thought possible. You hear and see so much that, years before, living in your home country, you would be so affected by. You would cry; you would be angry; you would feel helpless. Working on these sorts of social service projects, you become able to listen to a horrible, tragic story calmly. You don’t lose your wits; you employ them to meet the task at hand, and deal with your emotions later.

Yesterday morning, I requested some support from our psychologist to determine if one of our children at Casa may have been sexually abused prior to his arrival. The extremely sad answer was yes. Not maybe, not probably, but a very resounding yes. He was abused. He was violated. He was betrayed by one of those “big people” who should have been protecting him.

Over the course of the day, I cycled through so many emotions. I am not a crier. I spent much of the day holding back tears. I was filled with a murderous rage aimed at the family member who violated this child. I was overwhelmed trying to understand how best to help this child, and how to ensure the consistent support he needs in a very inconsistent environment. I was sick with the mental images and video that played against my will all day, imagining this sweet young child in this horrible, traumatic experience. 

I was furious with myself. I couldn’t fathom or accept my own limitations. How can it be that this is so common here; that due to poverty and almost no supervision for many children growing up more or less in the streets, this child is far from alone. How can it be that this is happening, and we are here, and we can’t do anything to stop it?

How can it be that I hold this child, and hug him, and make him smile and laugh... but I can’t protect him? How? How does one sleep at night knowing this? 

On a good day, when I am not looking into the eyes of a child that I cannot protect, I can answer those questions calmly and rationally: You cannot save every child. You cannot save even one. You can only help, in whatever way you can, to provide safety, love, food, and some shelter for this child. You can be part of the solution; you can employ the skills that you have, and trust that others will do the same. You must simply accept that you are doing something- and that is better than nothing.

Yesterday was not a good day. Today is not a good day, either. I know that in time, the fortitude I have thus far developed will grow further; my ability to hear horrible news about a child’s past and still be unshaken enough to be effective will improve. I know this. I have no doubts that I can handle this, and I will. I know I’m doing all that I can, and I recognize that there are limitations that neither I nor anyone else can overcome- as a group, or as an individual. 

I have known this for a long time. I have accepted this for a long time.

But when I look in this child’s eyes, when I see him smile and laugh, when I see him and know that right now, he trusts us to keep him safe, I can’t help but feel the weight of my own limitations; my own failure to be everywhere at once, keeping every child safe from every horrible thing that may befall them. 

We all know what it’s like to read or listen to a story about a child being abused and be overcome by our own disgust and anger and sadness for that child. Nothing can prepare you for hearing that story about a child that you love.