MANGUERA MEMORY: Fall 1983

This past weekend my attention was once again brought back to 1983. I read that the US Supreme Court nominee graduated from high school, a well-heeled prep school, in 1983. When images of him out of his high school yearbook appeared along with photos of him at the beach, and in a group photo with friends, the same images shot up for me . . . high school yearbook, photos from time spent at the beach with friends and so many group photos with friends at school or at parties, times that for me are some of the best days of my life.

I often tell people that growing up in South Texas, just 30 minutes from the beach and a walk away from Mexico was the place to be born and grow up. Contrary to popular belief, Brownsville is not a third world country, people speak English in Brownsville (along with Spanish and often Tex-Mex), and I am happy to brag that Brownsville has some of the best schools anywhere. Afterall, if Brownsville did not produce well-educated graduates, how the heck did I end up attending one of those colleges back east at one of those ivy covered, red brick, colonial style campuses tucked away between Dartmouth, south of Canada, north of Boston.

The summer of 1983 I decided I would not be attending UT in Austin and instead was determined to get out of Texas and study somewhere I had never been before and had only read about in books or seen on T.V. I left friends I had grown up with, played sports with, swam with, attended church with, studied and learned with . . . I wish I could tell you that all was peachy upon leaving Brownsville but it was not in large part because one of my friends has attempted to commit suicide that summer while she was away at camp.

Part of the reason she made the gesture, as per her note, was that I was leaving Brownsville and I was leaving her. I was one of very few people that she had disclosed a lifetime of sexual abuse to, sexual abuse at the hands of her adopted brother, sexual abuse at the hands of my classmate. I was one of the even fewer people that believed her. When I learned of her abuse, she also told me that her mother and father knew of the abuse.

She knew they were told to get her to a psychiatrist, medicate her and not to discuss their “family situation” with anyone. I listened. Then I decided to tell my mother.

I told her everything. My mother, in all her cultural wisdom, told me not repeat what I had learned to anyone. I was heartbroken because I was being told, “We cannot help her.” I get emotional and angry now as a write this and even 35 years later, My Mom went on to explain that her parents were people of money and means (a doctor and a nurse) and that they could and would take care of the issue their way. I felt helpless.

I felt anguish. Imagine how I felt when I learned of why my friend had attempted suicide many years later. She felt abandoned. Her destiny would include a long-life struggle with mental illness (Dissociative Disorder, Multi-Personality Disorder, Anxiety and Alcoholism), and a need to relocate thousands of miles away from Brownsville somewhere on the east coast. In the fall of 1983 I believed this experience to be an isolated one with my friend.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned that her brother had continued to be a predator with other women and girls. He now sits in a federal prison as a sentence for his crimes and sins. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that other classmates had sexually assaulted friends of mine. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that a close family friend, a younger female, had been molested by the neighborhood boys for years and that one of those boys graduated with me from high school.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned that the victims and survivors of these harrowing experiences had not said anything or much about their molestations and assaults because they were told to be quiet, not bring shame to themselves or their families, they were told that they could not ruin the predators’ lives that way, by speaking truths. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that only one of the predators was held accountable for his crimes and sins and the rest had been given the privilege of going to college, finding good jobs, marrying and having children.

. . they were allowed to live their lives unphased and untarnished by their actions. They, to this day, have not atoned for or been held accountable for ruining the lives of their victims.

So when I am asked if I believe the current state of allegations being made on the national stage, I ask, “why shouldn’t I?” After all, my experiences have deceived me. I believed that because I did not personally see it at the time it did not happen. I failed to factor in that this type of behavior happens in the shadows, in the dark, in abandoned fields, on empty beaches, in unsupervised classrooms . . . away from discovery. But that does not mean it did not happen.

I learned as the years passed and my experiences grew that societal ills and evils exist everywhere, whether in a small south Texas town or in the halls of college dorms back East. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that perversion, sexually maladaptive behaviors, sexual assault and full-on, brutal gang rapes happen to victims and survivors of every gender, creed, religion, sexual identity, income, education level, class or status.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned that predators come from every gender, creed, religion, sexual identity, income, education level, class and status.

Despite all these bad things that DO happen in the world, regardless of whether they are obvious and blatant or out of sight, nuestra gente uses dichos like :”No hay mal que por bien no venga” to help us all cope with what life may inevitably throw our way. I want to believe that for those who have survived, their experiences were not in vain. I want to believe that when the time comes to do right by them that I will follow the lead of another dicho, “Haz bien y no mires a quien”

will give me and those around me the courage to speak truth to power. I want to believe that now when so many around us need us so much to stand up for what is right, that we will. We all know que “exigir ex facil, senalar es facil, delegar es facil, ordenar es facil, quejarse es facil, pero dar el ejemplo es lo dificil.” So, it is time we start to be the change we want to see in the world. Today, be someone’s hero and shed light where there is darkness.

Today, be a voice for the voiceless. Today, reach out to your friend and let them know that this too shall pass and that you will stand by them to squelch their fears. Today, stand up for those who have been told to be quiet and been called liars.