Author, speaker, and advocate, Joelle Casteix discusses The Power of Responsibility at TEDxPasadenaWomen Conference…
Listen to the MP3 Audio here: The Power of Responsibility by Joelle Casteix at TEDxPasadenaWomen
OK, everyone, let’s do an experiment. Close your eyes and think of a happy memory. One that makes you smile every time you recall it. OK, got it? Now open your eyes.
Now when you search your memory banks, were the events of your life a linear progression of everything, from birth until right now? No, of course not. What you recall were moments. And when I ask you to think about a happy one, a particular moment just popped into your head. I bet you didn’t even have to think about it, it’s just there, and you feel happy.
And you know what? That feeling of happiness doesn’t come from the actual moment, but instead, how we decide to react to the moment. That’s called our emotional response. We decide how to react, we decide what to feel. You decided, consciously or unconsciously, that the moment you remembered right now is a happy one.
So what does this tell us? It’s not the moments that define us, but our choices and our reactions that make us who we are. And in those choices resides our biggest potential. It is called responsibility. My story today is a story of responsibility.
I’m a survivor of child sexual abuse. I’m 15 years old, and my high school choir director is sexually abusing me. The abuse lasts two years until I become too old, and he moves on to one of my friends. But before the abuse even starts, I’m very carefully groomed. Grooming is how a child’s sex predator weeds out the strong kids, with high self-esteem, because a predator doesn’t want those kids. Instead a predator targets the weaker ones, like me, a sad kid, a kid who needs love.
Predators use manipulation, flattery, attention, gifts, and time, to fill the holes in a child’s weak and suffering self-esteem. Let’s face it, my self-esteem has a lot of holes. I already have a history of depression, and I’ve been hospitalized for being suicidal. I crave time with an adult who will listen to me and validate me. I want a mentor. I need love. But I do not need, crave, or want sexual abuse.
When the abuse is in full force, my predator manipulates me into thinking that what is happening is not rape but love. And he does this to isolate me from my friends and family, and make himself the center of my world. That’s how a child’s sex predator creates a compliant victim. A victim who is too scared to say no, a victim who is too scared to fight back, a victim who is too scared to leave, and a victim who then becomes too scared to report.
By the time the abuse is over, I am wounded, and I am scarred. And I’m 17, I’m pregnant, and I have a sexually transmitted disease. And I am also utterly alone. In seeing the intended effects of grooming, but not understanding what’s going on, my friends and my peers, they think I wanted the abuse. They think I’m happy with it. They are scared of my predator, and they are disgusted with me. So I am totally isolated. A-ha! My abuser’s grand plan has worked! Because, you see, predators are cunning, and my friends and I are not.
Things are much better at home. My parents are old school, but my mother is nuts. So, when they find out about what is going on, it is very easy for them to point the fingers of blame at me. They tell me I should have known better. So without intervention and without support, my emotional development comes to a crashing halt. All I know how to be is a victim.
And as time progresses after the abuse, I find myself more and more in victim-like situations. I get into bad relationships, I am self-destructive, I hurt people who love me because, you know, all that is just true: hurt people, hurt people. I sabotage every chance of success I have. You see, I want to hurt, because pain is a feeling I understand. Pain is my friend, because you know what? Pain will never abandon me. But I hate myself for it.
You know, by this time, I’m a college grad, I was a straight-A student, I’m supposed to be conquering the world, not conquering myself. The years go on, and I still live like a victim.
Then, one day, I have this moment of clarity. Because I’m so steeped in self-loathing, moments of clarity are few and far between. And I realize that I’m dangling from this precipice of my own creation. All I need to do is let go, and I will crash. And it will all be over. How the hell did I end up here? My abuser didn’t force me here, my parents didn’t force me here at the point of a gun. My high school friends and peers didn’t force me here with torches and pitchforks. I put me here, by remaining a victim.