My Own Story of Abuse

“As Simon rubbed the ugly black thing, the family friend moaned,” harder boy, rub it harder. Faster, um, ah, um, yeh, that’s right. Simon did as he said. Soon it got easier. But then it got worse,” it’s a line from Preacha’ Man, my first novel.

“Put it in your mouth, Simon stopped rubbing. He couldn’t believe what he heard. No, Simon cried. Why would he ask me to do that? Simon whispered. He slapped Simon across the face.”

Those lines from my novel rekindle memories from my sore past. It’s a story like so many others - a 10-year-old boy stripped of innocence in the truck of a family friend. The pain of that moment couldn’t be explained. The hurt caused was too deep to share with mother and father. It remained locked within the dark chambers of my subconscious. That’s was until the flashbacks came to haunt me more.

I wrote Preacha’ Man as a way to free the countless others from the brutal condition of having to keep secrets like these. I was afraid to share my story. The power of decision was taken away from me when the memories became stronger than my resolve to keep my thoughts to myself. I was too broken by the past to remain silent. I had to be set free.

Breaking that silence came with a price. Being broken and sharing that in public space can rock the world of a minister trapped in the expectations of those who drop dollars in the collection plate. Sharing a past of dysfunction radically hinders the work of ministry. Telling my truth was the beginning of the end of the work that meant so much to me.

The comments that followed the release of my first book reminded me of why I fought the urge to place those words on paper. “He must have wanted it,” I heard people say. “It proves he is gay,” others said. The backlash that came with paving the way for my own liberation made me wonder if freedom is worth the cost.

I personally grieve whenever I hear a story about boys being abused. It took me weeks to recover from the Catholic Church scandal. I’m still aching due to the lack of justice in the Eddie Long case in Atlanta. The Church seems to miss the mark whenever boys cry foul play by one called to lead the way. The image of the institution seems to mean more than exposing and ending the cycle of pain felt by boys too young to understand what was happening when they were being touched.

Those cover ups and cash settlements may be rooted in a deeper issue. Could it be that our notions of masculinity, even among those not yet men, make it difficult for those engrossed in the merits of gender identity to conceptualize the torment of boys molested by men? Are cover ups and passing the buck a result of a failure to conceive of a way to think about the abuse of boys?

Blaming the victim is a systemic evil that obstructs the pursuit of justice in cases involving sexual abuse. Women tolerate the laundry list of labels attached with being violated: they asked for it or it’s because of their alluring attire. Women have been answerable to how their ways entice those who lack the ability to control the heat.

Added to the complexity of abuse of boys are notions of masculinity. What heartrending assertion comes from institutional decisions to pretend it never happened? What does it say concerning a moral obligation to protect the innocence of those too young to protect themselves? What is said when we close our eyes and make believe it’s not our responsibility to point a finger in the direction of cruelty?

Conversations related to institutional responsibility (be it Penn State, the Catholic Church or Greater New Birth Baptist Church) should not preclude critique of affirmations of identity that minimize the masculinity of boys caught in the web of sexual abuse. Just as a woman raped does not make her a whore; a boy abused does not strip him of legitimate masculinity.

Being raped doesn’t make a person gay. Supplementary in this discussion is the need to affirm the masculinity of those who are gay. Being gay doesn’t surrender legitimate masculine identity. It may define it by different constructs, but it is masculinity all the same.

Pain wrenching discourse is necessary to help both institutions and individuals contend with their feelings related to notions of masculinity after one voices a history of abuse. Needed are ways to affirm those hiding out of fear of being labeled a fraction of a man. Every time an institution covers it up or pays for it to go away, boys like me, still aching from past memories, suffer even more.

They can’t deal with our pain. Maybe I should have never told the truth.

But, it wasn’t my decision.

When Women Think Like Men

I’m certain that the disgust I felt could be seen in my facial expressions. After years of attempting to find a way to enter into a meaningful, mutually beneficial and committed relationship, I had come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t out there for me. That isn’t anything new. One of the primary themes in my novels Preacha’ Man and the sequel Backslide are the struggles facing single men in ministry who are searching for love.
I’ve come to regard my grapples as a man in ministry as more universal in nature. Hate to say it, but finding love these days has been complicated by a new set of dynamics that have fractured the state of romance in a way that has me aching from head to toe. It was much easier for me to deal with it all when I assumed the problem was with my matching set of bags. It is tough admitting that your problems with women are related to your problems with yourself. As arduous as that may be to declare; it’s easier to tackle things when the only thing standing in the way of you and authentic love is you.
Getting my locs maintained at a salon typically filled with women exposes one to insight beyond what I gather during my trips to the barber shop to get my shave. In other words, the sisters have a different twist. That twist on the state of love had me gasping for a way to find hope beyond what has become, for me, a bitter battle to find the real deal.
What is it? Get this. Women have turned into men. They have found a way to justify their manly ways by using the adage, “since men do it, its okay for us to do the same.” What does a man say to that? You could affirm a woman’s right to function under the same rules as men. You could recognize that the liberating thing to do is to recognize that you agree with their notion that true liberation demands that they be allowed a space to act like men have for ages.
The womanist thinker in me wants to say amen to that. I’m tempted to stand on the side of women and applaud them for breaking free from the crutches of patriarchy. I want to stand by their side and advocate for their privilege to treat men in the way men have historically regarded women. Yes, I want to scream, this is proof that women have finally overcome! Go for it sisters! Treat us in the way we have treated you. Lie to us! Cheat on us! Play games with our heads! Manipulate us for your personal gratification! Go find a young man. Drop the one you’re with for a young, sexy, arm piece. Be the one that proves women can act like men. That makes everything right!
Gasp! Is that what we’ve become? Is the goal of liberation to create a culture were the rules of the oppressor can be exercised by those once oppressed? Is this the way women become free-by becoming more like men? I think not.
I’ve listened as women speak with pride about the show “I Love New York”. The show has taken a reject from Flavor Flav’s “Flavor of Love” and created a version for the sisters. Women are inspired that the games used to degrade women can be used to demote men. If it’s good enough for the brothers, it’s good enough for the sisters. This proves we’re like you, and, as a consequence, you get a chance to see how it feels to be treated like an object rather than a person.
What a sad indictment on the state of affairs between men and women. Wouldn’t it be better to get men to see how their ways have harmed women and men grow beyond the assumptions of patriarchy rather than molding women to use the rules of patriarchy to their own advantage?
Things get worse when the oppressed become the oppressor. When that happens there’s no movement in the direction of bona fide reconciliation. All that reading on womanist and feminist thought has led to this- bend over and take your spanking. Since you’re a man let us treat you like a bitch.

The Death of Prophecy

Let me begin by saying this weeks meditation is not a selfish plug. I’m writing out of a desire to process the sorrow I feel related to the shadows I wrote about on last week. To recap, last week I spoke of the dread that comes with doing our best to let that little light shine when our light appears as the flickering of a flashlight at midnight. Just a little light and a consuming darkness to overcome.
What appears as a plug is this-I’m close to completing my second novel. The title is “Backslide” and it is certain to raise eyebrows for its candor. In it, Simon, the Preacha’ Man, starts a new ministry. He does so with a faith and courage that comes with having functioned for years as the whipping boy of a traditionally minded church. Finally, after pondering the consequences of being free from the political machine we call the Church, he steps away from it all at the end of Preacha’ Man. He decides that being a person is more important than being the robot of the Church.
Problem is this thing called a calling. For those not bond to this prevailing force, there is a significant difference between a job and a calling. Those of you privileged enough to function with the freedom that comes with finding a job, holding a job and seeking a new job-enjoy all of that. Those called lack the freedom that comes with taking your credentials to the highest bidder. Callings require sacrifice, and sacrifice comes with pain.
Years back, I wrote a paper for a seminar at the University of Chicago. The title of the piece is “Prophetic Voice in Public Space”. I based the paper on Melissa Harris-Lacewell’s book Barbershops, Bibles & BET. Melissa used me as a subject for her research on how the church molds the political ideologies of those who attend. Melissa took my columns (at the time with the Herald-Sun) and sermons (then at the Orange Grove Missionary Baptist Church) and went about t he business of analyzing how much of what I wrote and preached about was believed by those in the church.
Part of my tussle over the years has been with maintaining integrity as a prophetic voice within the context of community enamored with maintaining a traditional model of faith. What it means to be faith minded has changed over the years. The tradition with traditional churches has been fractured by the influences of the mega-Church movement. The consequence is the minimizing of prophetic voice while accentuating the merits of the individual’s quest for prosperity.
An example is an article I read this week from the Baltimore Sun. I felt the zeal of God when I read the account of the First Mount Olive Free Will Baptist Church. They really love their pastor. The good Christians went and purchased Bishop Oscar E. Brown a luxurious custom built Bentley two summers ago. The members of the church yelled “praise Him,” as he backed the car, estimated to cost between $130,000 to $150,000, out from the church parking lot. Its not like the good Bishop needed a car-he also owns a Lexus SC430 sports car.
Before you jump down my throat and call me a playa hater, let me finish the story. The church is facing foreclosure for failing to pay a $12,000 water bill. In addition to failing to pay the water bill the church was notified the property would be auctioned at the end of the month for defaulting on its $1.5 million mortgage. The plot thickens. The church was recently destroyed in a fire days after receiving notification of the auction.
The article in the Baltimore Sun ended with addressing the Empowerment Temple. The church leases its pastor, Jamal-Harrison Bryant, a 2006 Bentley Continental Flying Spur. Churches seemingly aren’t disturbed, in fact they seem to enjoy, providing lavish lifestyles to those called to be prophetic. The Christians in Atlanta have made Creflo “Give Me Some” Dollars and Eddie Long millionaires. It’s not uncommon to hear of churches willing to purchase planes to make it easier for the pastor to make those trips to the money making conferences across the country. The prophetic voice of the Church has been cashed in for a more lucrative enterprise-the marketing of Jesus for personal gain.
Which brings me back to that selfish plug-it doesn’t pay being prophetic. The best way to run people away from God is to talk about God. That’s crazy, you say. Is it? When’s the last time you’ve seen a movement to bring people together that didn’t involve a $100, $50, $25 line for those willing to make a seed offering to build the work of the kingdom? When is the last time you’ve heard a person talk about taking that money and placing it into the hands of the homeless, the addicted, the afflicted or rejected? When is the last time you heard someone promote a message of inclusion? No, that’s too much like Jesus who welcomed people in rather than finding ways to throw people out!
Where in the gospel did Jesus engage in an act that promoted his need? Imagine Jesus saying, “The Father has shared with me our need to purchase me a Bentley. I need it to prove to the lost that God is a provider. God is using me to show you what can be yours in the kingdom.” Can you imagine Jesus saying something like that? If not, why are we suckered into believing it’s legitimate for those called to serve Christ?
The answer is simple. The calling is treated like a job. We are not called to promote our own agenda. We are called to advance the kingdom of God. The kingdom needs servants willing to stand above and beyond the common trend. This is risky business. Being called isn’t profitable. People hate watching a called servant. It exposes the truth regarding the hypocrisy of their faith. They desire the easy life. They want leaders to make them feel comfortable about their own decisions.
Simon learns the lesson. They kill prophets. Like they say, nothing under the sun has changed. The only thing that has changed is the Pharisees are driving Bentleys.