"If black women are more aware of the many factors that contribute to keeping silent and how they can protect their children, they will be more likely to speak out."
Robin D. Stone is a freelance journalist whose work focuses primarily on health, children, families, and parenting. She is the author of "No Secrets, No Lies: How black families can heal from sexual abuse" (Broadway Books, 2004). A 2004 Journalism Center fellow, Stone served as deputy editor at Health magazine; founding editor-in-chief of Essence.com, and executive and deputy editor of Essence magazine; and as an editor at The New York Times, The Boston Globe, and the Detroit Free Press. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times, Essence, Glamour magazine, The Boston Globe and other publications. Stone was a 2003 Kaiser Media fellow, where she researched and reported on sexual abuse in black families and other health issues.
Are the rates of sexual abuse similar among different races in the United States? Is abuse more or less likely to be reported in a particular community or among a particular economic group?
Blacks are victimized at the same rate as whites. But in a survey [“The Long-term Effects of Incestuous Abuse: A comparison of African American and white American victims,” (Sage Publications, 1988, p. 129)], they reported being more severely abused with greater force.
Abuse is more likely to be reported among low-income families. Because blacks are disproportionately poor, it may seem that they’re at a disproportionate risk for being abused. But it’s important to note that poorer families tend to be in greater contact with public agencies and the authorities, so they may be observed more often or more closely. That means that some people may avoid scrutiny because of their race or ethnicity, income, social standing or status.
You mention in your work that African American women are less likely than white women to involve police in cases of child sexual abuse. Why is that and how can this change?
It could be any number of reasons, including embarrassment, shame, or fear of the perpetrator -- along with the potential loss of income if the perpetrator is the family provider. Blacks aren't the only group that is silent, but they make up the one group whose silence is compounded by a history of slavery and stereotypes about black sexuality. That makes the discussion more difficult. There also are some cultural factors at play, like "circling the wagons" to protect the family from outsiders; distrust of institutions and authority figures like police officers; and not wanting to turn a black man into the criminal justice system.
How can this change? If black women are more aware of the many factors that contribute to keeping silent and how they can protect their children, they will be more likely to speak out.
What has been the impact of sexual abuse in the African American community? Are there typical characteristics of a victim of sexual abuse? Of an abuser?
Based on my research and interviews with more than 30 survivors, childhood sexual abuse can affect everything from psychological and emotional development to physical well-being. One study found that 66 percent of pregnant teens reported a history of sexual abuse. At the extreme are self-mutilation, substance abuse and suicide. Studies show that survivors are more likely to experience depression than women who weren't abused; the longer the abuse lasts and the more violent, the more severe the problems. And blacks experience depression at greater rates than whites, and women experience the illness at higher rates than men.
Black women’s depression may go untreated because many exhibit symptoms different from those exhibited by people of other races and ethnicities (such as physical pain and irritability). Also, there is the stigma factor: Many blacks consider acknowledging a mental illness or seeking professional help a sign of weakness. And many blacks lack access to appropriate mental health treatment -- nearly one-fourth of African Americans lack health insurance to cover the costs.
As for abusers, the theories abound: that they're narcissistic and their sole focus is on their own emotional and sexual gratification; that they lack social skills, they're immature, repressed, sexually frustrated; that they were victimized themselves as children. What researchers agree on is that abusers act on an urge to feel powerful over their prey. Sexual abusers will not give up until they meet that need, and once they do, many will continue until they are forced to stop [Source: “A Sourcebook on Child Sexual Abuse,” David Finkelhor (Sage Publications, 1986) and “Unspeakable Acts: Why men sexually abuse children,” Douglas Pryor (NYU Press, 1996), as well as interviews with Bill Ford of Mustard Seed Forensic Services, Brooklyn, N.Y., and Rhea Almeida of the Institute for Family Services, Somerset, N.J.].
Are there programs specifically designed to help abusers or victims in the black community? Are such tailored programs necessary to reach certain minority groups?
Many mainstream state and local organizations offer coalitions against sexual assault and hospital psychology programs have components that target minority populations.
Local groups like the Rosa Parks Sexual Assault Center in Los Angeles target black (and other minority) survivors with culturally relevant treatment and programming.
Some private counseling services, like the Institute for Family Services provide therapy through a prism of cultural understanding and social justice.
As for abusers, programs such as the Mustard Seed Forensic Services provide counseling for adult and adolescent sexual abusers and non-offending parents.
Programs that are tailored to specific audiences are important because survivors may be more responsive to someone who looks like them, and can share their sense of history, customs and traditions. Faith and spirituality play significant roles in the lives of many African Americans, for instance, as do alternative forms of healing (such as music and dance therapy).
How do you report on sexual abuse in a community where it is not openly discussed? How do you get people to open up? And how do you, as a journalist, help parents protect their children?
By sharing my own experience as a survivor of child sexual abuse, I created a space for others to talk to me. Once I opened up, both women and men felt it was safe to share their own experiences. I know that's not the "traditional" way to do journalism, but my goals were to engage, inform and encourage readers to do something to help themselves and their children. My approach allowed me to accomplish those without compromising the integrity of the work.
Many of the sources for the book came to me. They contacted me following a reported essay I wrote about my own experience [“Silent No More," Essence, August 2001]. I asked many of them if they'd be willing to talk. It was the huge response to the article that led me to consider the possibility of a book.
I found survivors through state and local coalitions against sexual violence -- often members share their experiences on public forums. I also found them through private psychologists, through churches and from a mass email solicitation to friends and colleagues. Sites like MySpace and facebook weren't on my radar at the time I wrote “No Secrets” in 2002-2003, but today I'd certainly enlist those as tools to help me find survivors.
The first step toward protecting children is for parents to know the facts and risks of childhood sexual abuse; to talk about the subject with their children; and to be alert for any signs, such as loss of interest in the outside world, inappropriate interest or knowledge of sexual acts, hyperactivity, rebellion, regressive behavior, or delinquency. Parents should also act on any suspicions and contact the police or their local organization that fights child sexual assault. There are also several national organizations, including Childhelp, the National Children's Advocacy Center, and Darkness to Light, a public awareness and education group.
What stories about child sexual abuse in the African American community risk going untold?
More stories exploring the silence surrounding child sexual abuse among African Americans are critical.
When I told a friend about why I was writing “No Secrets,” she essentially said, “So what, the fuller brush salesman used to feel me up all the time.” There's a sense that being sexually abused is not an aberration. That should be explored.
Stories about the stigma many blacks still associate with mental health treatment are very important, as well as stories that explore culturally relevant treatments. More African Americans would be encouraged to start and complete treatment if the approach drew from and embraced their culture and heritage.
There are also broader stories that have what I call the “yuck factor,” meaning they’re difficult to discuss and explore because of the emotions they provoke. Far too few stories are done on the treatment for sexual abusers, and what happens once they're released from prison: how they're monitored, how they integrate back into society. Far too few stories are done on alternative forms of treatment for abusers, such as peer-supported counseling at the Institute for Family Services. It’s always good to explore the efficacy of treatment versus locking the cell door and throwing away the key.
