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This article is from Today's Native Father, issue #143, January/February, 2006. Related articles from this issue:
Sex Sins Are Destroying My People
It Started With a Look
Modesty in Spirit and Action

Sexual Abuse Victim Finds Freedom in Forgiving His Offender
As told to David Hertzler

In the 1970’s a white minister came to our community. He showed much interest in the lives of native boys. He got some of us involved in the local church as altar boys. He was also trained as a pilot. He introduced many boys to his airplane and took us flying. He also started Boy Scouts, and took us out on camping and canoeing trips.

Many parents trusted this man. Why not? He represented God and church. I trusted him and thought he wanted the best for me. It never crossed my mind that he was setting me up to abuse me. Sexual abuse is something that was never mentioned in my community. It hasn’t changed much to this day.

The trust that I had for this man was violated when he did things that were not in my control. This man whom I trusted sexually abused me. My world was destroyed at an early age because of his choices. I did not understand what had happened. My behaviour and actions changed, as I became a young adolescent full of rage. I picked up many negative behaviors, which included gas sniffing. I did not understand why I was doing these things. On several occasions I took pills, trying to end the pain. I became a man who was full of rage and hate. It did not take much for me to get angry. I guess you could say I was a walking time bomb. I became rebellious toward the church and there were times I felt like burning it to the ground. I stopped going to church and resented my parents because they were churchgoers. They were not aware of what had happened to me and I didn’t have the courage to talk to them about it.

I eventually became an alcoholic. The heavy drinking was my way of blocking out what had happened. The rage and hate I felt for the one who had offended me was stronger when alcohol was in my system. Many times I wished I could meet him so I could pay him back for all the hurts that he afflicted. Once the pain and hurt were so overwhelming that I made plans to end my life using a 30-30 rifle.

It was not until I was in my thirties that I exposed this issue to a man who would become my therapist. Sitting with him was a giant step for me because I had trained myself not to trust anyone, especially a male. The first session was intense as I asked myself if he could be trusted. I remember checking him out and studying his every move because I did not want to be hurt again. I was willing to protect myself at any cost.

As time went by I saw a change in my behaviour and in my thinking. The trust for my therapist grew in every session and I noticed that I was able to express myself freely. Along the way I had many flashbacks. Months of intense counselling slowly paid off. I was beginning to see that I was not responsible for the abuse and that someone had taken advantage of me. The shame that I felt at one time was slowly disappearing and I was learning to trust again. The walls that I had built around me were coming down. I was no longer angry at the church and my parents because they were not responsible for someone else’s actions.

Eleven months after I started therapy I knew that I had to do the impossible. I wanted to have a meeting with the man who had sexually abused me and tell him what his actions did to me. Arrangements were made for the meetings. An organization, Victim Offender Mediation Program, was contacted to be the facilitator for this important meeting.

When the day finally came, my counsellor and I met for prayer as we asked God for courage and strength to face the unknown. One of the workers from VOMP picked us up and we made our way towards the place where the meeting would take place. My emotions were showing. I was literally shaking in my boots and my palms and my forehead were sweating. My throat was getting drier by the second. I still had questions: “Will he say that I am a liar?” We made our way up the stairs that led to the living room. I came around the corner and there he was, the man who sexually abused me many years ago.

My eyes came in contact with his. I did not know how to respond to him. I stopped, took off my jacket and pulled up a chair, and spoke,“I am here because I have something important to tell you. If you need to say something, you can say it when I am finished reading the letter, but I am not expecting a response.”

The hours that were spent in the meeting seemed to last forever. I lost count of how many glasses of water I drank. It was a productive morning and I was thankful that it went well. The power of FORGIVENESS was demonstrated as I extended it to the man who had hurt me many years ago. I was no longer carrying the shame and locked in the prison that he created. I was set free because I forgave the man who sexually abused me. As we were having lunch, I extended my hand to him and he offered me his hand. I grasped his fingers firmly and realized that in this gesture I had gained control of the moment, taken command of my own life. No longer was he a person of authority but a small shrunken man, withered by the ravages of time. At that moment, I felt strong because the battle is the Lord’s. The hands that I thought were huge when I was a boy didn’t seem huge after all. I was no longer afraid of him because deep down in my heart I knew that he could never hurt me again.

Editor’s Note: Dozens of other men who were molested as boys by the same offender still live in “prisons of the mind” today. This author invites them to contact him at ivanwapenisk@knet.ca .

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