June 1, 1990, Columbus, Ohio. This was the day I was born, miraculously, to a drug-addicted mother who couldn’t take care of me. I was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, diagnosed with bilateral cleft palates which made it hard for me to breathe, mild cerebral palsy, significant hearing impairment, and legal blindness. I came out tiny and nearly impossible to feed properly. Immediately, I was placed in the foster care system for a chance at a better life, though, my foster dad and siblings treated me like I was a disease that didn’t belong in their family. Still, I had clothes on my back and food in my belly, and thankfully, I had a foster mom who raised me like her own daughter. She made me feel wanted. Although she was often sick, going in and out of the hospital, my foster mom ran like a well-oiled machine when she got well again. I remember that I would always help her clean the house and help her with the holiday decorations. She used to love to bake and cook, and would always let me help her by putting the ingredients in the bowl. She listened to my questions, my ideas, and my dreams. I adored her because she never made me feel like I was different. I know what you’re thinking. “Well, at least she had her mom to count on.” Yes, there were lots of things I shared with my mom, but I harbored a dark secret. My adopted sister, Tonya, was a young mother who brought her nine-year-old son John over to our house almost every day. One night when I was just seven, my door was wide open. While everyone was asleep, John crept into my bedroom, stripped off his clothes, got on top of me, and forced himself inside me. I tried to push him away and scream for help, but he shut me up by forcing me to perform oral sex on him. When he was finished, he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, okay? This is our little secret.” I was just a child. I didn’t understand what had happened, but I knew it was wrong. In the years to come, nearly every day and night, John would assault me. I shudder when I think of the times he’d pull me into the bathroom late at night, force himself on me in my bedroom or behind the shed, wherever and whenever he wanted. Purple bruises littered my arms like sick tattoos from the punching game he liked to play. Still, I kept quiet. I was terrified I would get taken from my foster family and away from my mom if I told. The only person to ever find out what was happening was my adopted sister Tonya, John’s mother. She once caught him naked and on top of me, and just…walked out of the room, never saying a word about it. In 2001, my foster parents sat me down and asked if I wanted to be adopted into the family. Young and desperate for acceptance, I said yes. They didn’t know what was still happening behind their backs, but I decided I wouldn’t risk ruining my chance at having a real family. They seemed so happy, insisting that I fit in so well, and it made me hopeful. Things would get better after getting adopted, I was sure. They couldn’t get much worse. As life continued and my adopted mom got older, her health problems became more pressing and frequent. The hospital became her home away from home. The more she was admitted, the more we doubted her survival. Her health was hanging on by a thread. One day when I was 15, I came home from school to find my adopted dad in his usual spot at the table, perusing the newspaper. He motioned me over to him. My first thought was, oh no, something’s wrong. “Is Mom okay?” I asked him, and he nodded impatiently and motioned me closer. When I got close enough, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his genitals. I froze in shock. This can’t be happening to me. Not again. Why me? Why was I the chosen one? Several times after that, he would force me to sit on his lap so he could put his hand down my pants. And just like before, I was told that this was “our little secret.” At this point, I just accepted that I would always live my life behind a dozen secrets. The abuse had cracked my heart, but later that same year my soul shattered. My mom passed away, taking with her the only love I’d had. The only ear that listened. So, I stopped talking, stopped socializing at school. I shut down. I held tight to the secrets I would never be able to share. Not only was I a partially blind and deaf girl with cerebral palsy and a broken past, but now, I was also alone. After her death, I went to live with my adopted sister Donna to get away from my dad. I was safer with my sister, but by this point, I was so broken that I couldn’t live happily. After graduating high school, I thought about getting my own place, but my sister convinced me that I wouldn’t be able to function alone. After years of being forced to do things you don’t want to, you eventually go on auto pilot. I continued to live in a haze until 2010, when I went to The Ohio State University. Being on campus, learning more about the outside world, I realized that I could come clean about what had happened to me in my childhood. I was no longer ashamed, instead, I wanted to solve my problems. Maybe if I told my adoptive family the truth, they’d understand why I was so quiet, and would help me. Maybe they’d show me love if they knew my pain inside. And so, in 2012, after

Well here goes. I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I was physically emotionally and sexually abused by my mother. I never told a soul until triggered at the age of 39 by the birth of my son. He looked just like me and seeing that helpless baby boy rocked my world. It has touched every corner of my life. Everything from an eating disorder to suicide attempts to being a hustler selling myself in a search for a way to take control over my body. I carry much shame around all of this but am proud that I never hurt anyone but myself. I have done counseling for many years to come to terms with it all and I have been successful with it. (I’m still here lol). Married and raised three happy healthy abuse free successful children. Helped start up an organization that raised awareness and funds so that sexually abused kids could get treatment. Did several talk shows including Oprah to raise awareness. I do occasionally get days where I’m down but still consider myself s survivor I could go on but I hope my story helps. Oh and I’d like to add that when I confronted my mother about the abuse she said it wasn’t incest because there was no intercourse Mark! THANKS

In 1974, at the age of 14, I was abducted, beaten and raped by a stranger, a recidivist sexual predator hunting for boys in my childhood hometown of Lincoln, Rhode Island. I’m writing not to tell my story, but to share what I’ve learned in conversations and discussions with hundreds of survivors over the past ten years, to introduce you to my ‘5 Steps You Can Take to Keep Kids Safe,’ and to dive deep into Step 3, Know What To Do. My 5 Steps to Keep Kids Safe are 1. Know the facts 2. Know the signs 3. Know what to do 4. Know where to go 5. Know what to say   While each step is important in its own right, one step I think can make the most difference is the one I believe is less known, less public, most actionable. Number 3. Know What to Do. Step 3. Know What to Do   Since over 90% of sex crimes committed against children are committed by either family members or someone known to the child or their family, we should minimize the amount of alone time any child spends in one-on-one situations with an adult. Demand that adults with access to children involved in school, school bus transportation, extracurricular activities, sport programs, summer camps, music, dance, gymnastics, skating or other one-on-one teaching lessons are subject to mandatory background checks. Don’t leave children in the care of adults with active alcohol or drug problems. Nothing more needs to be said. Understand why a child might not tell. Children remain silent because of manipulation and misplaced guilt, shame, fear and to protect others. If you suspect abuse and your child won’t tell, don’t assume abuse isn’t happening. If you suspect abuse, trust your instinct, understand why a child might not tell and get help. Use positive stories in the news as a catalyst for discussion. When you hear about the next Amber Alert, discuss it with your child. Let kids know that there is a system in place that alerts adults and law enforcement that a child needs help. The next time the news reports a missing child being reunited with their family, talk about it. Fear is the tool of the perpetrator. As scared as a child may be during an assault, or an abduction, if they know that people are looking for them, if they know people are going to help them, the child may find some peace and hope in those thoughts. Positive stories in the news, discussed with children before they need to rely on them, may just be the hope they need to get through their own experience. Tell your child now, that you will believe them, they can trust you and you will help them. One way perpetrators manipulate their child victim is by telling the child no one will believe them. If a child knows before they’re abused, assaulted or raped that you will believe them, that they can trust you and that you will help them, you’ve taken away the perpetrators leverage over the innocent child. ——————————————— Keith Smith, the author of Men in My Town, is a Stranger Abduction Male Rape Survivor and Public Speaker on the topic of Childhood Sexual Abuse. The story of Keith’s assault and his transition from sexual assault victim to survivor has been featured in newspapers and magazines and his program, ‘5 Steps You Can Take to Keep Kids Safe’ has been discussed on radio and television. Keith’s story has been covered by the New York Times. He participated in Oprah Winfrey’s award-winning show, 200 Male Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, was featured on Perspective : New Jersey with ABC Investigative Reporter Nora Muchanic and appeared on Anderson Cooper’s Special, State of Shame: The Penn State Sex Abuse Scandal. More information on the complete ‘5 Steps You Can Take to Keep Kids Safe’ can be found at https://meninmytown.wordpress.com/2014/08/17/keith-smith-stranger-abduction-sexual-assault-survivor-and-child-safety-expert-shares-5-steps-you-can-take-to-keep-kids-safe

I was born into a family that did not know how to cope with their pain. My father was an abusive alcoholic. We got relief when he would work out of town. When he was home, we all walked on eggshells. We didn’t know when the explosion might occur. I don’t remember when the sexual abuse started. I know it was pre-verbal. I carry memories of being a baby and being in pain and feeling very alone. I am certain my brother was also abused. How else would he know to abuse me, especially at such a young age. when my mom and I left the 2 of them behind, I was six. We were reunited when I was 12. The abuse started again. When I got my period, I said, you have to stop I could get pregnant. It stopped. I then felt guilty that I didn’t make it stop sooner. I took on the blame that was not mine. In between my mom and I lived with other families. One situation was a man, living on his own. He also abused me and abused one of my friends. I was 9 years old and carried that guilt for many years. I was also angry with my body for responding. I ended up marrying an abuser because it was what I knew. There was some violence and I was not allowed to say no to sex. It was a game to him, one I hated. I finally left and started to take my life back. I did some group work and personal work to finally realize it was never my fault, my body was on reacting to the stimulus, I am not flawed, and I am lovable. Today I help others. So please if you are in pain, there is help out there for you.