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I don't ever remember not being interested in girls, but as a young boy I was taught that I would be punished if I did not behave as a proper young man was expected to behave.

Besides being the youngest child in the family, I was also small for my age. I always wanted to be one of the "big boys". This may have made me more vulnerable than some; it certainly made me want to please the other guys. While playing hide and seek when I was about 5 years old, I attempted to hide in a place that was already occupied. It was there that an older boy first exposed me to sexual activity. In my innocence I had no idea what was happening; only that finally one of the older boys wanted to be my friend! While this was the first time I was assaulted, unfortunately, it would not be the last.

Not meaning to accuse my parents, I must add that I did try to tell them what was happening to me. The only words that I could use were "I want to go with you. He always hurts me." My parents felt I was just trying to get to go with them and did not question how I was being hurt…over time I gave up trying to tell.

I had no idea the impact that my early abuse would have on my life. I learned to accept what happened and to remain silent. The year I was 12, I was helping in a children's church program. One Sunday, an older boy and I were working with a group of 2 and 3 year olds. That evening, my father and I were called into the pastor's office where I was accused of exposing myself to one of the girls in the class that morning. I sat mute! I hadn't been asked if anything unusual had happened. I hadn't been asked for any explanation. I hadn't been asked if it was true or if there could have been a mistaken identity: I had been accused. The other boy that had been in the room that morning was never questioned about the incident. I do believe the girl's innocence was violated, it just wasn't me that caused the violation.

In an attempt to encourage me to confess my sin, my Pastor said that if I didn't confess my sin and get right with God I would end up in prison by the time I was eighteen. I would not confess. My Pastor also promised that no one else would ever be told about what I had done. Perhaps not surprisingly, he was unable to keep that promise. Within a couple of weeks, I was invited to join some of the older church boys, including relatives of Pastor's, for an afternoon of fishing. When I showed up at the appointed location, I was beaten and kicked by the teenage boys as they made repeated referrence to me being a child molester and a pervert. Much later in the evening, when I returned home, I told my parents that I had wiped out on my bike.

Over the next several months, I faced criminal charges, psychiatric evaluation, a trial and conviction. For two years I met weekly with a Christian psychiatrist and regularly saw my parole officer.

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