“It wasn’t really sexual abuse,” my friend told me. “I mean there was no penetration or anything like that, I can’t imagine what it is like for those guys, but it was traumatic and it involved sex.
I was born with a physical defect and as a child, I spent a lot of time in the hospital. At 14, I was short but stout. I grew up on a farm and farm work in those days puts meat on ya’. In those days, in that country, hospital rooms were not private. It was a long hallway with rows of beds on each side. The babies were at the one end of the hall and the older children were at the other. I was among the oldest.
It came about one day, it was time to change our pajamas. So they lined us up, told us to strip out of the old ones and march around to where we got the new set. I covered up with my hands.
When I came to the door where the two nurses were standing by the door, handing out the new clothing, the one nurse said, “reach out your hand.” I reached out with one hand. “Use both hands.” I hesitated. The other nurses added. “Use both hands.” I had no choice. They would not give me my pajamas until I reached out with both hands.
“Look at that,” said the first in her English accent. “Have you ever seen anything so small? I would have though you would have a big one by now.”
The other one chimed in with her ridicule and laughter. “Look, no hair, I would expect a big boy like you to have hair. You’re still a baby aren’t you?”
I was a late bloomer.
There is absolutely no excuse for adults, especially professionals to behave in this manner. Trauma is trauma. We must protect our children. School locker rooms are ripe with this kind of ridicule and talk.
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