Invisible Girls

by Patti Feuereisen

  Once again, it’s striking how the lack of a mother’s support can be so damaging to a girl. These mothers never figured out what was going on. But there’s no real surprise there, either. Siblings often have a pretty easy time keeping secrets from their parents, especially if their parents are themselves hiding an incest secret. It seems amazing that people can live in such a state of denial, but it happens all the time. As we discussed earlier, often the mother is in a dysfunctional relationship herself and can’t face what’s going on, or she feels powerless to do anything about it.

  A girl recently wrote to my website Girlthrive:

  When I was twelve and my brother was sixteen he used to come up to me and squeeze my breasts. He thought this was the funniest thing in the world, that my breasts were growing. I was mortified. When I told my mom, she told him to stop, but he never did and she never pressed the issue. Now that I am fourteen I hate to be touched by anyone. I am jumpy, especially around boys. I always feel as if someone is going to come up and grab my chest. Was this sexual abuse?

  Of course it was sexual abuse! Many girls get confused when there’s no genital contact, but any unwanted pinch of the butt or chest is sexual abuse, especially if it is allowed to go on without punishment (of the perpetrator), and it can be very distressing to girls who are entering adolescence. Next, we hear from Sage, another girl who was betrayed by her parents, especially her mother.

  SAGE

  Sage’s molester didn’t live in her home. He was an older cousin. Unfortunately, he was often left alone to take care of Sage, and her parents were too busy to notice that anything was wrong. He started molesting Sage when she was eleven. She liked having him around because he paid attention to her. They played cards, they ordered pizza for dinner, they played video games. The abuse actually seemed a reasonable price to pay—at least for a while. When she was around thirteen, she started getting more creeped out by it and told her mother. To her mother’s credit, she forbade the cousin from ever setting foot in the house again. But she never asked Sage if she was all right, and she made it clear that there would never be any discussion about it. So, her parents never brought it up again and remained aloof as she was growing up.

  I first met Sage when she was seventeen and a friend brought her to one of my sex-abuse survivors’ groups. She had just disclosed her abuse to a friend, and that friend knew she’d need support. We worked together throughout her senior year of high school, but then, when she turned eighteen, her parents threw her out of the house and told her to fend for herself. Because they’d never really provided even the basics for her, she wasn’t all that surprised, but she needed to figure out how to survive.

  When she went for an interview to waitress in a topless club and was offered work as a topless dancer instead, she decided to do it because the money was so much better. She says she didn’t really feel any shame or embarrassment about dancing topless. She’d learned many years earlier, she says, that feelings were dangerous; they led only to disappointment. She had learned very early on how to shut down her feelings and practically numb herself to the world. Her body may have been dancing, but her mind and her spirit were always somewhere else.

  Sage’s story not only gives us a glimpse into the world of women who dance topless but confirms what we have been saying about our male-dominated culture and its objectification of young women. It shows how an unsupportive family, sexual abuse, and a culture that views girls as sex objects can compel a girl to feel she is good for only one thing: her sex appeal.

  SAGE’S STORY

  My Family Threw Me Out

  I am nineteen years old and a survivor of child molestation. From the ages of about eleven to thirteen I was made to do things that most kids don’t begin to learn about until much later. In fact, the perpetrator was in his teens himself. He was eighteen when he started to molest me, and he was my cousin. He was a really nice guy, friendly, good looking—and he was really fun to be around. But sometimes he would force me to participate in oral sex, masturbation, and passionate kissing. I can remember him exposing his genitals to me and touching my private parts as well.

  Looking back, I think I didn’t tell right away because I didn’t want him to stop coming over. That may sound sick, but, you know, at least Jack paid attention to me. My parents were very young, and they were very involved with each other and partying with their friends. I always felt like I was a bother to them. Jack was always over at the house, and when other people were around he played with me. He’d teach me card games, throw around a ball with me, and play Frisbee with me.

  When I was thirteen I finally told my mom the truth about what Jack would do to me when he came over, and she told him never to set foot in the house again. She also told me to stop flirting and walking around in skimpy shorts, implying that what happened was somehow my fault. It’s weird, but I kind of missed him. I didn’t like how he pushed me sexually, but I did like having him around. At least he was around, which is more than I can say for my parents. For a very long time I was afraid of boys and relationships. I still have never had a boyfriend, and I actually still have never kissed a boy. So you will be surprised when I tell you that I danced topless for a year at a club.

  Of course, I can’t blame Jack alone for my becoming a topless dancer. My parents had a large part in everything too. And the money was really good. When I graduated from high school, my parents told me to move out and support myself. I shared an apartment with three other girls and was teaching children dance at a weekend program and taking courses during the week. I had a student loan and was a part-time college student, but I knew I couldn’t make it through school without a better-paying job, so I started looking for full-time work. I heard you could get great tips as a waitress at this topless club near my apartment. When I went in to interview for a waitressing job, the woman managing the club asked me if I would be interested in topless dancing instead. I had studied modern dance for several years, and I loved to dance. It had never occurred to me to become a topless dancer. She told me I could make three times as much money if I danced and that I shouldn’t worry about being unsafe. No one was allowed to touch the dancers. That’s how I became a topless dancer at the age of eighteen. To put myself through college. I did it for about a year.

  Almost all of the girls and women I worked with at the club had been sexually molested as young girls. No kidding. I know because they told me so. And they all came from families that were totally unsupportive of them. Let’s just say most of us did not feel particularly loved growing up.

  Let me tell you what it felt like to be a topless dancer. It may sound strange, but in some way it built my self-esteem. On slower nights I’d stand in front of a guy and dance. That’s called a table dance. As I danced I would think, “Should I give him a forty-dollar dance or only a ten-dollar dance?” That felt like a lot of power. I knew how to get them to pay. I’d add up my money as I danced. I even enjoyed making them feel small and stupid. They’d ask me if I had a boyfriend and I’d say, “No, but if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be you!”

  It didn’t gross me out to dance. I saved over $10,000 in one year to help pay for college, rent, bills, etc., and I just kept my life and my work totally separate. I never went out with customers. Never. Sometimes when I’d go home after a shift and snuggle with my cats and drink hot cocoa, I’d think, “I don’t believe what I did today. I danced naked.” But mostly I can’t say I had many feelings about anything at the time. I knew I wanted to go to school and pay my bills and not depend on my parents for anything, because they were unreliable. I knew I had no power in my family, but as a dancer I did have power.

  Just think of the symbolism. There I was, standing above these guys. I was looking down, and they were looking up to me. These bankers, lawyers, doctors—all they wanted was to talk with a beautiful young woman. They’d show me pictures of their kids, talk about their jobs, or ask about me. If I could keep them talking, I didn’t even have to dance. Some nights I made several hundred doll
ars just talking to these men.

  But I could also be really mean. I’d be witty and sarcastic and tell these men they could die wanting me because I would never be with them. I even smacked a few of them who tried to touch me. If a customer tried to touch my nipples I’d rip his hands off me and say, “You’re not a very fast learner. Now sit on your hands!” I guess it’s as if everything I couldn’t say to my cousin as a kid came out with my customers.

  There was one weird thing about it, though. I could always tell who was a pedophile. You see, I have a body like a little girl’s. I am very petite. When Jack molested me I was barely developed. And if a customer would watch me in a certain way, I could almost feel his pedophilia. I can’t explain how, but I just knew. When I had to dance for a pedophile, I’d get really nauseous. No amount of denial would work. I’d freak out and have to take a break.

  I quit after a year, when I began to realize what a heavy price I was paying for the money. I was letting men use me as a fantasy object, and it started to get to me. After a while I would look out into the audience and envision the men as animals screaming and trying to touch us—all these young, battle-scarred girls.

  Dancing definitely changed me. One of the changes is very obvious. I used to wear more revealing clothing: tight shirts, hip-hugger jeans with a short shirt to show off my pierced belly button. Now I wear overalls most of the time or baggy jeans.

  Recently I told my mother that I’d been a topless dancer. She didn’t seem shocked or anything, she just said I should be careful and to watch out for illegal behavior. She didn’t really seem to care. And she actually said she would like to try it sometime.

  I know I’ll have a lot of emotional consequences from that work, but I don’t want you to have a prejudice against topless dancers. I am not a prostitute, and many of the girls would never be with a customer. The girls who do have sex with customers are almost all abuse survivors who don’t feel they’re worth better. But they’re not bad people.

  It’s still really difficult for me to get in touch with my feelings. But with Patti’s help I filled out college student loan applications, and I just received a student loan and some financial aid. I’m beginning to sort things out and to feel better about myself. Maybe all that dancing was my way of trying to dance out some of my pain.

  MY THOUGHTS

  Of course, most girls who experience incest don’t become topless dancers, but it makes sense that many dancers were molested as girls. They know how to dissociate. Sage used to dissociate the entire time on her job. She tuned in only when she felt her body being violated by a customer. Then she’d respond by either angrily removing his hand or yelling. And, when she sensed a pedophile, she would actually get sick and could not dissociate.

  It was a challenge working with Sage because during our time together she was still dancing in the club. This was hard for me, because I could see what a great young woman she was and that there was a part of her that felt violated by her job, but she couldn’t bring herself to quit. One day she admitted to herself and to me that she felt trapped and confused, just like when she was younger and molested by her cousin. Emotions started coming back, and she saw the men in the club as predators. The day she admitted that to herself was the day she was finally able to quit. Again, girls may take some detours to their healing, but have faith. You can always come back.

  If you are a survivor of sibling abuse, please know you are probably keeping one of the best-kept secrets of all abuse. It is not your fault, you are not dirty, and you are not guilty. If you can, call a hotline, tell your abuser to stop, lock your door, or confide in a trusted relative.

  I have worked with so many girls who have survived incest and moved on with their lives. I will tell you that some of them never did forgive their brothers or their cousins or their uncles, and some of that anger actually empowered them to move forward. You do not have to take this from anyone, not even your relatives.

  CHAPTER 9

  TRUSTING THE WRONG MEN

  Abuse by Teachers, Coaches, Clergy, Doctors (Ivy’s Story)

  I kept getting better and better at tennis, and everyone was excited for me. What they didn’t know was that my coach was having sex with me after our practices.

  —a seventeen-year-old survivor of mentor abuse

  News of sexual abuse started coming out more in the media in the nineties. The headlines were something like this: “Teacher Arrested for Molesting a Student,” “Coach Caught Sexually Abusing a Teen Girl,” “Rabbi Pleads Guilty to Molesting His Neighbor.” In 1999, Assistant Principal Richard Plass of Stuyvesant High School in New York City, one of the top schools in the country, was arrested. Although there were dramatic photographs of him being led out of the school in handcuffs, he only received four years’ probation and was given a job in another New York City high school. It turns out this fifty-five-year-old man had been molesting a fifteen-year-old female student who volunteered in his office. Another case that made headlines back then involved a fortysomething teacher taking his sixteen-year-old student across state lines to marry her. Then, in 2003, John H. Dexter, the headmaster of a prominent New York City private school, the Trevor Day School, was arrested for downloading child pornography on school computers.

  In August 2016 three investigative journalists from the Indianapolis Star broke the story of a doctor who was a serial sexual abuser. USA Gymnastics and Michigan State University failed for years to tell proper authorities of any sexual-abuse allegations against Dr. Larry Nassar, and his abuse had gone on for decades. He was employed there from 1997 through 2016. The several accusations against him at Michigan State went back to 1997 when a university athlete reported to the administration that Dr. Nassar “touched her vaginal area when she sought treatment for an injured hamstring.” An Olympic gymnast named Rachael Denhollander read the story and called the investigative journalists to tell them about her abuse as a teen at the hands of Dr. Nassar. By the end of the investigation, more than 170 girls and women had come forward to tell their experiences of sexual abuse perpetrated by Nassar. In late May 2018 the first settlement was reached, and Michigan State agreed to pay $500 million to 332 girls and women who have survived sexual abuse by Dr. Larry Nassar. Also $75 million is being held in trust for other survivors who may come forward. As of the spring of 2018, settlements are still pending through the US Olympic Committee, USA Gymnastics.

  Through the years many USA Gymnastics athletes came forward with variations of the same story. Some girls never told anyone until now about the sexual abuse they endured, yet several girls had previously told their parents, their coaches, university officials, other doctors. Some parents did not believe their daughters. USA Gymnastics did nothing, and, in spite of these allegations, for decades the abuse continued.

  In January 2018, the survivors had their day in court, and Judge Rosemarie Aquilina gave them the platform to verbalize their experiences out loud to the courtroom and to Nassar himself. As heartbreaking as their stories are, the strength to speak out about their experiences and confront their abuser as a sisterhood of strong girls and women in a safe environment made it possible. They talked about how he lured them into thinking he was their friend, that what he was doing with his “treatments” was all part of the medical care they needed to be better athletes.

  The first testimony was from Kyle Stephens. She was the only survivor who was not a gymnast; her parents were friends with Nassar. When twelve years old she was brave enough to tell her parents that Nasser had been sexually abusing her for years in their home. She told, and Dr. Nassar “convinced her parents she was a liar.” It turns out that through the years her parents asked her to apologize to Dr. Nassar for saying he did bad things to her; they wanted her to apologize for lying.

  This is a familiar outcome. All throughout our book there are times that girls tell and are either not believed or ignored or even blamed. Besides families that are overtly troubled and challenged, there are well-meaning parents who believe priests, teachers, ra
bbis, and coaches, over their child. These parents choose to believe “powerful” men over their children. Children are often not respected or heard—or believed. So many of these girls told their mothers that the doctor put his ungloved fingers inside their vaginas. But their parents did nothing. They deferred to the doctor. Girl after girl testified, and, as powerful as they all were, I could not help but think, “Why didn’t any of these parents go up against the USA Gymnastics? Why didn’t any of these parents confront Dr. Nassar?” Now that this truth has been exposed, there are parents of gymnasts suing the USA Gymnastics Corporation for suppressing and concealing their knowledge of known sexual abusers in the USAG program, including Dr. Larry Nassar.

  The girls and their parents will bring more lawsuits, and I am hopeful that this case not only helps girls in the future but empowers parents to protect their children. Parents need to trust their children and make sure their children know that no one invades their bodies. Many of these parents seem to be loving, supportive parents who trusted authority figures and, in some cases, did not trust their intuition. By protecting their daughters now, they are helping them heal. Even though many of the girls did not feel safe telling their parents at the time, their parents now have the chance to become their champions, and that love and support can still be powerful in their healing.