Success after Grooming: A Staggering story

You know that phrase 'undeserving victims'? Rubbish, if you ask me. It's akin to saying some poor souls actually deserve the misfortune they're dealt. As if it's their fault for not overcoming life's hurdles or shrugging off the daily dose of hatred they endure. Here's a shocking revelation: trauma survivors are far more likely to face abuse from people they know than from strangers. Most of these incidents occur in places like residential schools or care homes. The environment and culture in these institutions often shield abusers from scrutiny.

When people dismiss bullying as 'boys being boys' or 'rough-housing' instead of calling it what it is—violence—they're essentially giving brutality the green light. Do you know who bears the brunt of this? Those who don't fit in. They become walking targets whilst everyone else either turns a blind eye or remains silent.  In the 1980s, we had vague notions of racism, sexism, homophobia, and classism. However, when it came to Special Educational Needs or disability, we lacked even the vocabulary to discuss it. It was as if these issues didn't exist or occur.    It shouldn't come as a surprise that culture influences what we tolerate within organisations, institutions, or communities. Each has its social references and shared language. But what truly infuriates me is when people brush off bullying as mere horseplay. It's not, is it? It's outright violence because abusers revel in the pain they inflict. When no one speaks up, it's as though we're all condoning this brutality. It's cruel, to say the least.

Cast your mind back to the 1980s, if you can. If you dared mention you were being victimised, people would look at you as if you'd grown a second head. We hadn't yet grasped the concept of hate crime. Victim-shaming and identification were woefully inadequate. There certainly weren't words to describe the discrimination some people faced. The nature of the hatred I endured had yet to be acknowledged—let alone defined—it simply did not exist in the public consciousness. When did I first experience hate? Let me take you back to 1978. Picture a fairly typical secondary school in the French education system. My first slap came from Fabrice. I can still see the smirk on his face and the disdain in his eyes. For months, he'd wait behind the classroom door, knowing I was the slowest to pack up and the last to leave. He would corner me, pinching and twisting the soft skin under my upper arm—the tender bit. The bruises remained hidden, and I wasn't about to snitch. At nine years old, I was too frightened to speak up, fearing retaliation. Thankfully, Mum noticed the bruises when I was taking a bath. In her unique way, she brought it to the school's attention, berating the teachers who had ignored my pain. She pointed out that the attacks had occurred right under their noses.

Matters were thankfully brought to the attention of the Director of Discipline—an incongruously progressive role in a Catholic school that had only begun admitting boys in 1975. The director's intervention, similar to what we now understand as restorative justice, led to a supervised conversation between Fabrice and me. I was able to express that the pain was terrible, that I feared him, and that I lived in constant fear. He never laid a hand on me again, and while we didn't become friends, there was a tacit understanding that his actions were never to be repeated.

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Survival: Finding success after experiencing trauma 

Embark on a transformative journey in a memoir that transcends personal narrative to become a powerful testament to resilience, activism, and the pursuit of happiness. https://amzn.to/3AqNt3H