It’s late on a Friday night and I am sitting on the side of the basketball court on an uncomfortable fold up chair, hoping a cool breeze will break a path through the stale, sweaty air.  I am wedged between a sea of proud parents, who are hypnotized by their kids dribbling up and down the court, over and over again.  The room is filled with the sounds of kids giggling, 100 basketballs rhythmically hitting the ground and the strong voices of six coaches encouraging them to push harder.

I do this twice a week for three hours and it never gets old.  As I watch the kids, my kid in particular, I can’t help but smile.  There is a wide range of ages and varying degrees of skill level.  My son, eight years old, is right in middle – so I am able to see where he came from (as demonstrated by the younger kids) and what he will amount to (as witnessed by the older talent).  At least one time during practice, I am over come with feelings of pure joy as I watch my son go from an inexperienced gym rat to a skilled player and basketball enthusiast.  It is usually the happiest I see him.

I am somewhere between gawking at him, chatting with another parent and willing myself to stay “cool”, when my phone starts to buzz with messages from Twitter.

#Sandusky found guilty on 45 of 48 charges of child molestation.

From Penn State to State Penn #Sandusky

Rot in hell #Sandusky

Finally the victims can begin to find peace and healing #Sandusky

Pic of #Sandusky being taken to jail. Bail revoked.

Attorney’s for #Sandusky blaming media/public opinion.  Caught laughing on camera in press conference. Not good.

And it went on and on … even a few references to my brother’s trial from 1995, when his killer, OJ Simpson was acquitted of double murder.  I experienced an overwhelming feeling of pride in our system and for the courage displayed by those abused who shared their gut wrenching story.  I wished them healing and hope for a healthy future.  I had a strong sense of connection to the community and then a frantic feeling of fear of “what if” suddenly disturbed my daydream.

As I am reading the news updates and reminded of the horrific abuses these young boys endured, I am seeing the faces of a hundred or so kids beaming as they look on towards their coaches.  I catch a glimpse of my son, who just completed a drill and his coach fist bumped him – the non verbal cue for “way to go.”  Complete trust, respect, admiration is oozing from them and the coaches are soaking it up.  And suddenly I found myself looking at the men differently; which one did I think had the propensity to harm or violate a young unsuspecting child?  An innocent slap on the butt followed with a “good job”, is that the first step? I shuttered at the thought of my son experiencing a tenth of what happened to those young victims. I wanted to scoop him up immediately and run for the hills.  In my heart, I feel like I know these men/coaches and feel comfortable bringing my only child into their “home” on the court.  But is that how it starts?  I hated that I was forced to doubt them when I hadn’t considered it before.  Thank you pedophiles for keepin’ it real.

After we got home from practice, showered and prepared for bedtime, I sat my son down to talk about what happened.  The conversation was almost verbatim from the one I had with him earlier this year, when a string of sexual abuse stories popped up all over the news in CA.  The Los Angeles Unified School District was hit hard by numerous accusations of sexual abuse in the schools.  “The Miramonte School Sex Scandal” was eye opening for so many families about the reality of child molestation and it gave me another opportunity to talk with my son about what is appropriate behavior.  The conversations bared a striking resemblance.

 “Sweetie, I wanted to talk to you about something that was on the news today.    A coach got in trouble for hurting some young boys.”

“What do you mean he hurt them?” he responded without hesitation.

“Well, member how we talked before about the teacher who touched some kids in places that are inappropriate?  Well the coach did the same thing and he got in big trouble.” My son’s face became ashen, and his breath quickened.

“Mommy, why did he do that? And what happened to the boys? Did the moms know?”  I can hear the wheels churning in his little brain, trying to grasp the concept of why do people do bad things to kids.

“Well, I am not sure why he did it.  Sometimes there are bad people that do bad things and we can’t always understand why.  The boys trusted their coach, they did what he said, and were embarrassed to tell anyone, even though they knew it wasn’t OK.  So the mom’s didn’t know.  A few adults did and didn’t do anything to stop it, so they got in trouble too.” 

“Mom, why would the boys be embarrassed to tell? How come nobody helped them?”

 “They loved their coach, and didn’t want him to get in trouble I guess and didn’t want to disrespect him maybe.  Son, you know that nobody should ever touch you in your private parts right?  And if anyone EVER does anything to you that you know is wrong or that you don’t want, you tell an adult and me, immediately, no matter who they are. You understand what I am saying right?  And if you ever see something happening to your friends or teammates, you tell someone.  I will always believe you” I am trying to stay calm, but he senses the urgency in my tone.

“Yea, I know.  Are the boys OK?” and the innocence returns.

I finished up the conversation assuring him that most people don’t behave this way, but sometimes there are a few that slip through.  So while we should respect and trust our teachers and coaches, we also need to make sure that they respect us too.  He smiled in acknowledgement but I hated that he understood what I was saying.  And not because it made sense, how could it?  I am telling him a child has been abused by an adult they trusted and cared about – that’s absurd; but because I have repeated this story so many times before, it is not a foreign topic.

I have been warning him for as long as I can remember how to stay safe and protect himself.  We’ve always talked about “stranger danger”, inappropriate touching, etc. I have always been honest with him, as much as is age appropriate and purposefully instilled just enough fear in him, that he keeps a discerning eye open.  No matter how prepared he is to be an active person in his community, he is still prey.

As a parent, a woman, an advocate, but mostly as a human being … I am disheartened by the amount of stories we hear of abuse/neglect going unreported, disbelieved, unpunished, and justified.  I am ashamed of the human beings that are aware or have suspicions, and do nothing to protect these trusting young people when they are in harms way.  I am disgusted by attorneys who blame society and the media for their client’s conviction.  I am profoundly saddened for the innocence lost and the futures impaired by these types of tragedy.

1 in 6 males and 1 in 4 girls are sexually assaulted by the time they are 18 years old. 85-90% of child sexual abuse cases are committed by trusted family members and close friends.  That is astounding.  We take such little care for the people we work so hard to create.  How do we shift that thinking?

I am working hard to raise a mindful, caring, loving, smart and sensitive child.  I am offering this great kid to society…please take good care of him if/when he comes across your path.  I promise I will do the same for you.

 

If you suspect child abuse, call 911 or the local Child Protective Services agency in your community.  Keep calling until you get the help you require and deserve.

If you or someone you know has been affected by sexual abuse, it’s not your fault. You are not alone. Help is available 24/7 through the National Sexual Assault Hotlines (800.656.HOPE and online.rainn.org).