Monthly Archives: March 2012

Child Sex Abuse Awareness Month.

They said “Fool me once, Shame on you. Fool me twice, Shame on me.

There are no greater fools than us who implicitly trust the nature of  fellow people to see all children without lust filled thoughts. The idea that somebody, anybody could think of doing or actually doing sexual acts on a child is so revolting that we would rather deny that it happens than acknowledge the fact that it actually does. A campaign conducted last year opened up every household, every door that was closed firmly from family, by family. From stories of guilt, anger, misery, depression, betrayal, Obsessiveness..the range of human emotions that churn can drown every voice that denies child sex abuse.It is not just emotions that do a medley. The senses are so drowned by the nature of abuse, by the abusers and their actions, that it takes a lifetime to touch, see, hear without fear gripping your throat and feel a cold wave pass all over.

Touch is supposed to be a sensation that brings memories of warmth, love, protection, and gentleness. Yet every abuse victim can vouch for the fact that once abused, you never feel touch the same way again. You never see a relative or a stranger with the blind trust that you did before and you can never see a person the same way your parents see them. A little wall is built around you to protect you from the man who wants to fall all over you in the bus, to keep a distance from the cousin who wants to tickle you, from the uncle who wants you to sit next to him while he narrates stories of his youth. You add a few people into the wall and yet the wall remains. As an adult when you step out, you are wary of people coming close, you hair stands on its end when someone brushes past you, you agonize whether they meant to brush past you or was it an accident.

The way you view your world changes. The way you want the world to view you changes. The way you see children changes. Every child I see in school, in my complex, on the road, the kids of the girl who does housework for me…I hope with every fiber in my body that they grow up to be strong, capable individuals who will never have to go through the horror of losing trust in humanity and in their own family. Every child, I hope will never have to agonize over whether their parents can be trusted enough to talk about sensitive issues. Every child, I pray will never have to spend sleepless nights about choosing their own emotional health over keeping peace in the household.

Child Sex Abuse has to be addressed again and again every year. This is not only to protect our children, but also to ensure that they can grow up in an environment where abusers who take us to be fools are not tolerated and molesters can no longer stalk our kids within their own homes, localities, schools and cities. Our children need to know the joy of riding a cycle on the road, taking a bus to their schools and live a childhood which as adults they will not be ashamed, guilty, or burdened about.

Support CSAAM. Support your kid and every kid you know.

Do you have a story to tell? Tips to share? A video, a link, an ebook? As a parent, as an adult, as a child? As before, we honour all requests for anonymity.

Bring your experience and your expertise to this awareness initiative via

Blog posts with the logo (you can copy the image above), linkback to our blog, with the words “CSAAM April 2012” in the title
Twitter posts or links to @CSAawareness, tagged “#CSAAM”
FB notes linking to our Facebook page
Emails to csa.awareness.april@gmail.com
Or just simply show support by displaying the Picsquare badge on your site/page/profile

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Dear Friend

I always knew writing came easy to me. I took pleasure in seeing my thoughts spill onto paper. I felt comforted by the fact that what I thought or spoke never seemed to measure up to how I wrote. I took so much pleasure out of it, that just the act of setting myself up to write seemed cathartic. Clearing the table, removing a fresh sheet of paper, setting the pen, finding the soft spot on the chair and putting pen to paper….words were good. Yet, for almost the last one year, writing was being done more as a chore than a pleasure. I kept telling myself that it was just a block and that it will clear itself up, but it did not. The more I tried justifying my inability to write, the more it haunted me. It almost felt as if someone had crept up in the stealth of the night and had emptied my head of words, thoughts and rhythmic sense. Life gathered me around in its petticoat and swirled me around. It allowed me to get caught up in the ebb and flow of people coming home and leaving. It enveloped me with the idea that motherhood was always a good excuse. Somewhere within this tidal wave, at a little moment when the waves subsided and there was time for a little reflection. I need to start writing again, even if it is in fits and phases..only then can I get through this part of my life with my sanity intact. It doesn’t matter, what I write..I just need to stick with it and maybe someday I will find myself again.