COCSA account and question (TW: sexual details involving children)

[Chaussette]

Hello,

This website is one of the few places I see COCSA discussed online, so I come to you to share and ask for help (this is only the second time I talk about this, always anonymously).


Here is my experience (I'm sorry this is so long):

I was seven. It was my cousin who's one year older than me. My mother had invited his family over for dinner on Easter. It happened when we were playing alone after lunch. He introduced into our game of play pretend the notion that we were lovers. I didn't play pretend lovers, it has never crossed my mind to do so with anyone let alone my cousin. But I couldn't fathom something twisted beyond regular childhood foolishness being proposed by another kid, and to my child mind play pretend was all fake so I conceived of it as an innocent game. He then started giving me instructions. To remove my underwear. To lie a certain way on the floor. Spread my legs. Let me stress that I was ignorant of even the existence of sex, as well as in an environment where I felt safe -at home playing with my cousin in a culture that overwhelmingly promotes the exact opposite of weariness towards family-. I was utterly unsuspecting. I complied. By the way he was telling me to do things, it was obvious that he was fully aware of my clueless status. He expected it. Further than expecting, he clearly counted on it to be unopposed. He chose to keep me in the dark about what he intended to do to my body, inside of my body, until he just did it. He took out his penis through a gaping hole in his pants I hadn't noticed prior and penetrated my vagina before leaning on me to put his tongue into my mouth. I didn't know what any of this was. I didn't even register the latter act as kissing. My conception of kisses were pecks or smacks, which I've only ever given on my parents' cheeks. I hope that my insistence on my little girl mindset does not annoy you, it's just really important to me that whoever reads this understands how oblivious I genuinely was. I still thought we were just playing, so I rationalized it as innocent physical contact. I mimicked his tongue coiling against mine. He posed those actions in the game as proofs of love. I am convinced that he knew what he was doing. A kid truly mistaking sex for child play would have tried to approach the act with their peer on a somewhat equal footing, not the opposite by relying on the imbalance in their knowledge to just get their way. His motivation was not to play with me, it was to use my body for sexual gratification and the game was just his angle to make that happen with me malleable.

The timeline of the assault is unclear in my memory. I remember him doing it twice that afternoon. I remember the housekeeper walking in on him on top of me and singling me out. She yelled my name and said she would tell my mother. I remember anguishing, fearing I did something wrong, feeling so confused and ashamed. I remember watching him and his family leave the house as I hesitated to say something (I don't think the housekeeper immediately went to my mother or maybe she was occupied). I kept my mouth shut in that moment, but after they were gone I sought my mother. I told her what he did. I was lost, plainly distraught, not far from sobbing my words out. My sister of twelve was in the room as well. She practically laughed at what I said and my mother exclaimed in shock and disgust. "How could you let yourself be fondled by your brother?!" (in my culture it's common to refer to cousins as siblings even if we really were not close). She continued to scold me. "Do you know what it's called, what you did?! It's called "incest"!" (I was so out of it, for multiple years after that I thought sex in general was called incest). "You know you could be pregnant right now?!" (that is how I learned how babies are made, also I'm still puzzled as to why she said that to me at seven). I was thoroughly mortified, panicked. I felt abhorrent and filthy. Her reaction impressed upon me that I was no victim, but an accomplice to abomination. Just as guilty as my cousin for letting him touch me. Her reprimands sealed self-loathing into my core. "Do not do that ever again or I'll tell your father!", and then it was never spoken of again. I suspect she didn't even tell my uncle or aunt about the incident, since while berating me she talked as if me keeping quiet when they were still there closed that door for good. One thing is for sure: he was never held accountable for what he did to me. He walked away scot-free and years later, my mother would sing his praises saying that God expressed to her that he has his hand on him and sermon me for not being warm towards him as he smirked at me in the spot where he raped me. Honestly, I think my mother and sister forgot this ever happened.

Meanwhile, the memory and guilt of that day have been festering in my mind. I was brought up in thick purity culture, I'll let you imagine what kind of torment that sparked for the incestuous child sexual deviant I came to identify as. I've spent hours pouring over my sinful actions, crying, begging God for forgiveness. I lived in fear of my friends learning of what I've done and despising me. I even felt grateful my mother didn't disown me. Then I was hit at thirteen or so with the realization that I couldn't possibly have consented. And it did not relieve me. It dawned on me that I was raped, that my mother blamed me for it, that my sister mocked me in my most vulnerable moment and my father served as a threat. I was terrified of opening up to anyone else lest I get another version of my mother's reaction. Along with my epiphany, a voice took shape in my head. It says that I'm worthless ooze in denial, that my mother spoke truth and I'm rejecting it. I began constantly obsessing over my rape. Dissecting it, reliving it in order to debate the voice plaguing me. The voice never lets up, springs out of contexts that aren't even related to my rape, yanks my thoughts towards there. I incessantly spiral in revolting places grappling with it, I'm psychologically and emotionally drained. I feel so intrinsically gross and fucked up. I am angry. I am sad. All the time.


I know I absolutely need therapy however I fear how I would react if I am faced with someone that blames me again. Do you have any advice on how to handle this possible scenario while I look for a therapist? Thank you for reading.

[Anya]

Hey Chaussette,

Welcome to the boards, we're happy to have you here.

I first of all, just want to say I know how hard it can be to write something like that out. Reliving moments like this can feel like the most re-traumatizing experiences, and unfortunately (but not uncommonly) this does seem like something that has haunted you for quite some time. Speaking as a victim of SA myself, I want to really commend you on your strength and cognizance surrounding this event in your life (which I deeply understand you ideally should not have to take on this kind of strength or awareness, but given the situation, your ability to even type this out in order to seek support is really tremendous). Being able to see through those in your life who tell you all of this is "just complicated" or that you're somehow to blame, and realize that it really isn't, and you should never have been subject to something so upsetting, at a young age or ever, is so so hard. You deserve so much in this world and to live with this memory can be incredibly disheartening. So I'm very sorry you had to go through this.

I know you already know this, but none of this was your fault. You could not have done anything to stop it at the time. I think in this situation, as much as it was your cousin's fault, it most importantly was the failure of your parents and family who sought to fault and shame you for something that you could never have consented to. Shame is a destructive weapon that does not ever change things for the better. Without people in your life who you could confide in and who you knew would at least emotionally support you, of course it is an extraordinarily difficult thing to believe that you truly had no part whatsoever in this act of harm. No one here judges you, and I mean this with all earnestness, no one here would ever blame you for this. This is something that happened to you, and as upsetting as it is that we live in a world where things like this are not uncommon, and boys learn from men that its okay to violate others in such harmful ways, you should not be the one who is left to relive this event so many years later. All of us here, and so many more people out there are trying to make sure these kinds of things are never ignored, and better yet, never happen at all. As much as it's a long and difficult road to living that reality, there are people out there who understand this hurt and desperately try to make things better. You are not alone. You are never alone in these feelings, this shame or insecurity, and your wish to be free of it.

I do think that therapy could be a good option for you in helping move through these memories to get to a place where they don't visit you (at least as frequently) anymore, and by searching for trauma-informed, or sexual assault/PTSD specialist therapists (which there are many of), there is no chance of them blaming you for something like this. They will see you, not as defined by your past, but also not a director in the thing that happened to you at a young age. Do you think this is something you'd like to pursue some research on?