Hello my name is Paul Darr and I am a survivor of all forms of child abuse. Some of you might know me from different walks of life and might be barely aware of my past. I mean, I am a 42 year old man now, but I can tell you those physical and emotional scars you gain as a child are still there under the surface the rest of your life. I used to talk about it more when younger but I do so less often now.
Today I saw someone casually calling someone a “child abuse advocate” when the person they accused has never advocated on behalf of any abuse and has done so against it. I have also seen people call people child molesters (chomo) and groomers because they identify as part of, or support the Gender & Sexual Minorities (GSM) community. In other conversations I have seen foster children invoked as part of the conversation with reproductive rights, no matter the side of that issue.
In all of the cases, I find it disgusting that individuals that genuinely show little to no real empathy towards those of us that have been victims will then invoke us for their own arguments. Since we are victims, do they see us as weak and unable to defend ourselves from that use? By using us as pieces in that argument I think they weaken the focus on our actual abusers and they themselves are the actual abuser advocates. This is an argument I have had with people in my political life and also some with church policies. I would just ask these people to stop misusing us and leave us out of arguments that are not meant to really help us.
That will end my rant on something that has been bothering me for a while but maybe I should talk about some of the abuse I have experienced in my life. My first memory of abuse was actually of my biological mother being the victim. I remember one evening seeing my biological father beat the living crap out of her while he was drunk. I screamed at him to stop but he continued on and beat me later but I don’t remember the details of that beating too much. This was around when I was 4 or 5 and lived in Sun City, CA. My brother luckily slept through the whole thing.
After that, my biological parents divorced and my brother and I lived with our biological father with his girlfriend and several other people that lived in the home. That is when I experienced all the other forms of abuse before entering foster care. Neglect was the first one that comes to mind. My brother and I were often left to ourselves for the day. That included me getting up and ready for school and finding food to eat. I remember finding some stale ice cream cones in a cupboard and having that for a meal one day. I also remember the dogs would get fed but we would not, so I remember grabbing dog food and eating that. Since we lived in California, there were also plenty of orange and pomegranate trees around for me to raid and get food from. So food was scarce but I found ways to obtain it for my brother and I.
At the time, my biological father worked at the local card house and sold drugs. I think he mainly sold marijuana and cocaine. He was also an alcoholic. During this time of living at his girlfriend’s house is when he started beating me on a more regular basis when he came home drunk. He had this thick leather belt with a heavy metal buckle. He would swing it, hitting the buckle against the back of my knees or the center of my back. With my back, it would just make me curl back in pain and the back of the knees would cause my knees to collapse so I would fall forward. He would then tell me to, “get the fuck back up” so that he could swing again and knock me back down. During these beatings he would typically say other things like wishing I was never born but really that felt minor compared to what was going on at the time.
Another memory was the time my uncle told me to run while my biological father was there. As I took off he pulled out his paintball gun and took careful aim before shooting me in the back of the knee. I don’t know what it was with going after the knees but they must have enjoyed seeing me tumble and fall.
This sort of thing was my daily life until the day my biological mother kidnapped my brother and I but I think I will split some of this up into follow up blog posts.
