When you were brought into this world, through the greatest display of sacrifice and love, you were helpless, fragile, a parcel of the utmost importance, so much so that even your father, when offered your tiny frame, hesitated before haphazardly accepting your meager seven pounds. He handled you so delicately, as though even the mere breath escaping his lips might fall and shatter you.

And as you grew, your doe eyes wide open yet blind to the evils of the world, you began to learn of dangers, of strangers, of crossing the street without looking both ways, hold Mommy’s hand so you don’t get lost. But you were naïve, you were innocent, you were trusting. You had ideas in your head of monsters and boogey men, of fangs and claws, of shadows and night. You gave your trust, like a fragile glass figurine clasped ever so gently between your tiny hands, to your family, your friends, your neighbors, your loved ones.

But from here they will find you. They will pluck you from your nest of safety, from your cradle of serenity, from the confines of your very home and steal you away. Their fingers hook around your hair, your arms, your hands, and leave you slimy with the thick, black horrors of the world. They will coax you, coo you, coerce you, and you will know no better, because your trust in the world is still all encompassing. Their tendrils wrap around your being and take their fill, indulging on the sticky sweetness of your faith, the nectar of your innocence, the essence of your childhood.

            Then they will leave you, disappearing into secrecy. Their once soft, deceitful voice is now harsh and terrifying. And now you are left with the feeling they’ve given you, the heavy rot of disease, bogging you down and clouding your mind. But you tell no one. And they will return, with their soothing voice and sick hands, burning your skin and twisting your stomach into knots. And you will be left with the scars for the rest of your life, your brain playing tricks on you, your conscience betraying you; you are filthy, you are tainted, you are ill. You will step into a room, every day for the rest of your life, and your heart will stop because somebody must know. They can see it on your face, in your eyes, in your very existence. You are a survivor, but you mustn’t say so, because to utter the words “molested,” “abused,” “assaulted” is to bring to mind a revolting truth that our society will not acknowledge.

            These monsters lurk in daylight, their wickedness masked behind smiles and kind words, and they strike in a silence so hauntingly eerie that to mutter their very name brings bile to your mouth, sends your heart racing, turns your mind against you. Their lips do not curl over fangs, their hands do not have talons, and they resemble no storybook monster any of us have ever seen. They are every day maen and women, family friends and trusted neighbors. But you are young, and naïve, and innocent, and trusting. And this I believe to be the greatest act of treachery. Because 3 out of 4 children were betrayed by someone they knew, someone they trusted, someone they loved. The Bureau of Justice Statistics will tell you that 1 out of 5 girls and 1 out of 20 boys have been seduced; physically, emotionally, mentally. And this I believe to be unacceptable. And although they are the victims, they will feel responsible. They will blame themselves, their actions, their foolishness. And this I believe to be the greatest injustice in the world. Because you are a child, trapped in this cycle of corruption, thrust into the perversion of a sick, revolting mental instability that no child, no human being should ever have to go through.

But this, I believe can be stopped; with activism, with alertness, with enforcement. This, I believe, can be changed, can be transformed, can be destroyed. This, I believe.