Sexual Abuse and My Uncle Mimi

I have very few childhood memories or should I say happy ones.  The only ones I seem to have are bad or traumatic stories.  There have been many times when it stinks.  I hear other people tell happy, fun stories of their childhood, but unfortunately, I don’t have much to share.  Most of my memory is marred by the different ways people have taken or tried to take advantage of me sexually. So many times in my life I had to question: Why me? Why does this keep happening? How many ways can one person be sexually abused or compromised?

I remember some things very vividly and am sure there is a lot I don’t recall.  That’s ok; I know enough and don’t want to remember any more than I already do.

As many as 93 percent of victims under the age of 18 know the abuser.

A Little Background

My grandmother had three sisters; Evelyn, Grace and Rita and two brothers; Philip and Sonny. Her sister, Rita, was married to Amerigo Piccinini, unaffectionately known to me as Uncle Mimi.

My cousins were all boys, as were my brothers, so I was the only young girl in the family.  Playing cards was a part of our family gatherings and common when I visited my grandmother. We all learned cards at a very young age and one of the happy things I do remember is my grandmother playing with me and teaching me rummy. 

Every 11 minutes, a child is sexually assaulted in the U.S.

I don’t remember how it started or the exact day, but with the help of my mother, I have determined it to be around 4/5 years old.  We would visit my Great Grandpa and Nana Pena in their 3-floor walk-up brownstone in Brooklyn. My great grandparents lived on the 3rd floor,  Uncle Joe and Aunt Evelyn lived on the second floor with a door that led to the outside.  On the bottom there was a basement with an office. 

When my brothers and cousins would go outside and play – my Uncle Mimi would graciously offer to take me downstairs and “play cards.” I imagine that since cards were so prominent in our family, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary – the guy knew what he was doing. Plus I am sure the adults were happy not to have all the kids around the dining room table since that was where they hung out.

Maybe he made it seem like he was doing everyone a favor? I don’t know … he would take me down to my Aunt and Uncles to play cards, out of the way of the adults, and while we played, he would fondle me, touching me between my legs. Somehow, he made it part of the game.

He would pull his hand away when he thought he heard anyone coming or if any of the boys in the backyard area sounded like they were coming inside. 

Child sexual abuse is not only a physical violation; it is a violation of trust and/or authority.

There was another time that I was down in the basement, and my little brother was badly cut by a cat around his eye. Everyone was freaking out, and he had to go to the hospital.  I was down in the basement with Mimi at the time.  That is how I know my age – because of that one time, I could relate it to something definitive.

That is the day of the worst thing that I can remember. He had me propped up on some kind of table or desk in the basement and had taken my underwear off asking me to pee in his mouth.  I don’t remember doing it, but I do recall being afraid of somebody walking in because I might get in trouble. I don’t know why I would feel that way, but I did.

My apologies if that just freaked you out.  It is the first time that I am writing it and if I don’t get it all out, then I am afraid it will be in my head forever. I am hoping this will free up that space occupied all these years. The only time I can recall saying that out loud is to my husband at dinner on our anniversary. I held on to that memory all these years.

They might tell the child that the activity is normal or that they enjoyed it.

Then there were the other times when I would be staying with my grandmother in Jackson Heights, Queens.  She also lived in a 3-floor brownstone.  My Aunt Rita and Uncle Mimi lived in a similar unit a couple of doors down from her.  When I spent those days with her, sometimes I would walk with her to the market area to buy her groceries for the day. All the stores were within walking distance and everything was bought fresh for that day’s meals.  Sometimes I didn’t go.  I don’t know if she asked him or he would offer to watch me.  All I remember is the weird game he would play. Child sexual abuse comes in different forms.

We would be in the bathroom – I don’t know how or why – but he would make me take my clothes off, weigh myself, and he would ‘hide’ behind the shower curtain and watch me.  Then it would be his turn to strip to his underwear, stand on the scale, and I would have to ‘hide.’  Weird – right?  My grandmother was never gone very long so whatever game he was playing had to be done fast.  Now I remember him being very skittish and jittery.  I also remember not wanting to stay with him, but I don’t recall ever speaking up and verbalizing it.   Was I afraid?

Sexual abuse is a particularly sinister type of trauma because of the shame it instills in the victim.

My first recollection of realizing that any of these things were wrong was when my Aunt Rita died.  I was only 11 at the time, and the news was catastrophic.  She was on her way to work, in a car accident and died instantly.  My great aunt was a funny, wonderful human being.  I remember her cackling laugh and her crooked fingers.

I was in my grandmother’s living room between the services.  The church was only a couple blocks up the street, so we walked back and forth.  I was sitting in a winged back chair in their living room pretending to be looking at a newspaper, but really watching Uncle Mimi freak out.  He was running around like he was waiting for her to walk in the door and ran up the street after somebody who he thought was his “Rita.”  

I sat in that chair and hated him.  There was not a sympathetic bone in my body and felt the torture he was experiencing was what he deserved.  I remember somebody saying that he tried to take my Aunt out of the casket at the wake and thinking “it serves him right.”  I can still sit here and run that over in my head like a movie. Sometimes, it feels so surreal.

With childhood sexual abuse, victims are often too young to know how to express what is happening and seek out help

I don’t think I ever saw him again after that. There was no reason. I didn’t tell anyone what happened until I was about 13/14. There was another incident that made me finally say something to my mother. She did send me to therapy, but I didn’t like the therapist. Maybe I should say that I could not relate to her? I remember her wearing pearls and being very prim and proper, and not somebody who I felt would understand anything or have experienced any incidents similar to myself. That may not have been true, but in my teenage head, it wasn’t going to work, so it didn’t last very long.

Random Thoughts & Feelings

I am glad to be the only young girl in our family back then. This way there could be only one victim of sexual abuse within our family. But I guess I don’t know that, do I? Chances are there were others because I doubt any child molester only has one victim. Maybe it happened to me so I can be this person; sharing and talking about it so others feel they can open up too.

I have to say that as much as I have proclaimed that I am ok with it, I had a very emotional week knowing this Sunday would be the one when I would share this particular story of child abuse. There were a lot of tears! I wrote this a month ago, but it took me this long to summon the courage to publish. Unfortunately, during this time, I also remembered a couple more things … more feelings. I guess I still had some emotions bottled up.

Without a doubt, I wish none of these things happened to me.  I would prefer it if nobody ever had to suffer any type of abuse at the hands of anyone else. Wouldn’t it be lovely if this was a perfect world?

However, if none of these things happened to me, I don’t know who I would be today.  I like the person who is writing this, so there is no sense in dwelling on what could have been. All I could do was change the course of events moving forward and be proactive to make sure none of my children were sexually abused. I have often said, if any child abuse occurred to one of my own, somebody might then witness my rage. It scares me to think what I would do. Thank God that has not happened. 

Do I have trust issues?  Between this, my #metoo stories and other isolated incidents – Absolutely! But I continually work on this and am so much better. Thank God for Freddy, because he gave me trust back again.

Final Thoughts

Perhaps I suffered so I can be there to help people and give real advice. Sexual abuse is an area where I can be empathetic.  Somebody has to be the person who persevered to help others.  I dare say that many cannot weather the storm, but God did me the grace to survive. Albeit, it was a bumpy road, but for some reason, I kept going. Bad things happened and I made some not so smart choices. But I survived, have five kids, and God gave me the grace to continue and fight.  How could I not believe?

Please know, if any of you ever experienced anything like this, I am here for you. You can always feel free to reach me here.

Let my story be a reminder to always #BeKind because you don’t know what somebody has endured in their life.

Much Love and I am ok – I am a survivor and it doesn’t define me!

Sandy

#enlighten #empower #inspire #educate