Born to Be Abused [Trigger warning]

A lifetime of abuse makes one man call himself ‘disposable.’

Editor’s Note: This story came in response to the call for submissions on the disposability of men. Note that it contains graphic sexual violence and will be disturbing to some readers.

The author wished to remain anonymous. He told me that he wrote his story primarily so that other men will be aware of the violence that exists against men and boys. “This sort of thing should never happen to anyone,” he writes.

I was an admitted mistake and before I was born, my mom and my dad split up. My biological father used to beat my mom. So by the time I was born, my mom was with a new man. It was obvious that whenever my mom looked at me all she saw was my father as she couldn’t find enough ways to get me out of her sight. At three years old all I heard from her was go outside and play (at 3!). My step dad would beat me brutally at least three times a week. Once when I was 5 he chased me for a block smacking me on the legs with a steel bar-b-q spatula, while all the other kids on the street laughed at me. He would pick me up above his head and slam me on the ground, then sit on my chest and punch me in the face until I heard my mom say “Okay, that’s enough.” I would be told on a regular basis my name was mud. He would wear cowboy boots and run and kick me like a football. If I didn’t get A’s on my report card I would be told that he had never met someone so stupid, that he had never met someone who could sleep with their eyes open. Really, these stories could go on all day.

In 2002 I was going to sweat lodges (church for me) four times a week. I really just wanted to know god. No kind of lascivious reasoning I just believed there was something bigger out there. Anyway I met this girl there she started to pursue me. Calling me at all times, I honestly was just thinking friendship. Also I had a girlfriend. And she was married. She started telling me they had been separated for a year, and all the ways that he was such a bastard. The girl I was dating then moved away. I had full intention of still being with her. So this other girl started coming over every day, telling me how god told her we were supposed to be together etc. She moved out of her matrimonial home and shortly after we started to see each other.

Another friend that I had was having tough times and no one, not even his mother, would help him out. So I let him move in with me, got him a job and paid his rent and food for the first month. He got into a fight and lost us both the job. This happened three times. Anyway, at some point they started sleeping together behind my back. I was in the shower one day and they were doing it right outside the door. I came out, caught them, and the guy tried to stab me. Then when I took the knife away he crawled into the corner and curled up in a ball saying, “Don’t hurt me.” So I went back in the bathroom and got dressed. When I came out they asked me to go to dinner. I thought they were gonna come clean. You know: be adults. Little did I know I would not remember the next two months for eight years.

That night, I now believe, was the first time they drugged me and raped me. I remember waking up because they dropped me on my face on the cement. Someone walked by and said “Is he okay?” I said “No, call the police. I’ve been drugged. I can’t see.” I heard my two assailants tell him I was fine. Then they started calling me a bitch and telling me to get up. Next thing I remember I was standing and he was hitting me. Then he knocked me down and kicked me in the face. The next time I woke up they were sitting on me and raping me. Evidently they were filming themselves doing it. Over the next two months I have memories of waking up to being raped, thrown down stairs, punched, stripped down and a group of people that they collected from bars telling them that I was a rapist, kicking me in the groin. I to this day have never had a criminal record nor have I ever hurt anyone. Yelling stuff like “Where’s your god now?” and “Where’s your martial arts now?” Telling me I wasn’t human. One time they hit me in the head so hard with a 2×4 that I was in a coma for five days. While I lay dying they continued raping me. It was real funny I guess, cause they told me when I woke up that I had been there for five days and that there was blood coming out of my ears … hilarious.

Eight years later I remembered and I went to the police. I can’t find the video so I had no physical evidence. So the police said I was lying, and that they weren’t going to do anything about it. Shortly after a disgruntled ex employee got hold of the video and gave it to my contractor at the time. And they started bullying me: stealing my tools and calling me gay as well as many other slurs. It cost me a $250,000 contract. So people since then have sent me texts saying nasty things to me in regards to the video. I lost my whole family, many friends, am left only with horrible memories, PTSD, and a massive brain injury. Not one of the, for all I know, thousands of people that know about it have come forward or attempted to do the right thing. And won’t tell me even the name of the video. That is what I call … Disposable.

 

Read more on The Disposability of Men on The Good Life.

Image credit: hansvandenberg30/Flickr

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Comments

  1. My heart bleeds for you! Oh God you are not disposable, I wish you all the best in life going forward. I am not sure what to say except that I hear and see you and you are beautiful.

  2. You are not disposable you are a survivor . Your strength and will to fight and live
    Is right there on that page. I hope you can get yourself to a safe place where your immense dignity is respected.

  3. Wow, you are not disposable and to call them despicable does not even come close to being strong enough. It makes me feel physically ill to comprehend what was done to you.

    I’m so sorry for the trauma you have faced in your life. My religion isn’t that strong, but I honestly believe in a just God. You will find peace and they will face justice.

    Good luck to you. I hope that you find a reliable therapist to talk to about all that you’ve been through.

  4. This wasn’t meant to be a poor me feel bad for me story. To me it’s more of a no one has any excuses to not move forward and strive for life and better things story. I’m still standing!

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