Little Black Boys Get Hurt Too

I remember the first time that I was molested I was six years old. I was called to the assistant principal office of my elementary school and was bribed with candy and promises of toys. In exchange for the candy and toys I received, I was told that I had to do something for him as a way to say thank you. That was the first time that I touched a man's genitals. I was made to promise that I wouldn't tell anybody about what I had done and if I told I would be in trouble. The abuse lasted for a year when another boy came forward and told his parents what had happened to him at the hands of the same man.

Many other boys came forward but I did not. At the time I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't believe that this man had done any harm to me. He was kind to me, he gave me things, and I had made a promise to him to keep quiet, so I kept quiet and never revealed what had happened to me. This was the beginning of a pattern that I would soon get used to. Throughout my life, I would experience this type of abuse a total of 3 times during my childhood. All at the hands of people I trusted.

The narrative of the molestation and rape of young boys and men has been explored before, but within the African-American community, this is a topic that is not only taboo but too often overlooked. In cities across the United States, little black boys are being abused and assaulted in a shocking national problem that nobody talks about, with explosive statistics. Last year a 3-year-old black boy was sexually assaulted and beat to death by a 10-year-old boy. In Harlem, a schoolteacher sodomized a black 15-year-old male student and sent sexually graphic messages to him. In Houston, a 12-year-old black boy was abused, assaulted, and raped by his three male cousins, who were all adults, in the home of his aunt. In the United States, one out of six boys are sexually abused before age 16, and the rates of sexual abuse are dramatically higher in areas where little black boys reside.

Scared, alone, and imprisoned by shame, little black boys suffer in silence, choosing to avoid the awareness of their victimization. This is because of the many elements of powerlessness and shame associated with black male children who are victims of sexual abuse. African-American boys are in an environment where machoism is applauded and they feel powerless when they are violated and they feel as though they have failed themselves as strong black men by allowing something like this to happen to them when in reality, they are little black boys who need to be treated as such.

Many African-American men hold on to this secret because they are led to believe that revealing such a secret would make them less of a man. They feel that saying "I was hurt" is a sign of weakness, and because black men are taught not to have any weaknesses or show any vulnerability, we hide our pain in the shadows of shame, guilt, and embarrassment, losing our sense of self day by day. As black men, we try to make up for the things we lack while trying to recover the innocence that was stolen from us through the many forms of abuse and trauma that we black men endure.

For people like myself who have experienced sexual abuse at an early age, we can become detached from reality and when that abuse is traumatic the lines of reality can become completely severed, creating lifelong problems that can affect the mental stability of a person. Schizophrenia, depression, anxiety disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, borderline personality disorder, and bipolar disorder are just some of the mental health problems that can occur after being molested, sexually assaulted, or raped. But for the African-American male, the roots of these mental health disorders run deep.

Being born a black male in America is traumatic in itself. Between police brutality, a bias criminal justice system, systematic slavery, and growing up in households where the idea of a strong black man plagues little black boys like me; the mental health of a black man is already fragile and yet we still tend to put the mental health of our black boys and men on the back burner where it is often overlooked and forgotten.

I have experienced sexual abuse at the hands of many perpetrators, so much that I began to think that it is simply a part of life. I have painted pretty pictures covering up the trauma that each of these experiences has caused me. I have hidden my pain in the shadows of shame, guilt, and embarrassment and for years I have held on to a hurt that no little black boy should not have to hold on to. Now I am ready to release that hurt and cut the cords of shame, guilt, and embarrassment that have been tethered to my being.

I am sharing my story because I am willing to be the voice for the innocent little black boys that are afraid to speak up and speak out against their abusers. I am willing to be the voice for the black man who has lived with this secret. For him, I will say, "I was hurt too." I am willing to start the conversation that has been overlooked in the African-American community for far too long. Sexual abuse doesn't stop because of your gender, age, or race; it just goes unnoticed and overlooked, but little black boys get hurt too, a statement that should not be overlooked or ignored.

Be on the lookout for Little Black Boys Get Hurt Too: How I Survived Childhood Sexual Abuse set to be released January 2022

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