Originally published in 2018

Several people have written to me asking what led to my police interview. That’s a difficult question that could take many forms. I’ll try to keep it simple.

The assault occurred during my early teens. I’m now 55 years old; that’s a gap of over 40 years.

Looking back, it’s easy to question the decisions and actions of my younger self. I can interrogate my memories, but I can’t fully re-enter his mind and occupy his body. Time has moved on. I’m no longer him. He’s a stranger now. I am familiar with his speech pattern, social inclinations and physical habits. I can confidently guess as to how he might respond to certain social and familial pressures. How quickly he is moved to tears, anger, spite or humour. But I can’t be absolutely certain what he would do. When I look back at his response/s to his assault I can attempt to see clearly the choices laid out before him. I cannot say I understand why he chose to pick option A) over options B) or C), or that I agree with his decision. I am more emotionally mature than he. I have the benefit of hindsight. He was young and had much to learn. His head was cluttered. These were some of the choices he faced.   

 He Had No One To talk To: After the incident with his abuser he was confused, lost and not sure of what to do or say. He had no one he trusted, to speak to. Under different circumstances, his abuser was the one adult whom he might have discussed the incident with. He had known his abuser since he was a young boy. He had respected this man above all other men. 

He Chose To remain Silent And Deal With It: He did little and said nothing – except get angrier and angrier over time. This anger was directed at everyone but the one person who should have been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue and trigger-happy fists and kicks.

 He Was A Boy And Boys Were Meant To Be Strong: He didn’t know what to say or think about what had happened. He was a boy, but well on his way to becoming a man. A boy-man growing up in 80s urban south London. This was not a good time to be weak or vulnerable. He believed he should have been self-reliant and able to get himself out of any trouble. The boy-man had a sense of the man he wished to become. Certainly not someone who was weak, broken, vulnerable and at-risk; he would never have wished that for himself.

The Police: The Balham of the 80s he grew up in was a working-class area heavily populated by the Caribbean and Irish populations and, much like Brixton and Toxteth, endured the worst of the heavy-handed, race-specific Stop and Search laws (SUS). He could have been beaten up by a group of two-headed, ABBA singing skinheads who turned into a bunch of ice-skating werewolves and it would never have occurred to him to say a word to the police.

My Abuser: He’d known his abuser for a long time. Foolishly, he spent more time worrying about what the negative impact of the incident might do to his abuser’s career and reputation than his own life. He didn’t speak to friends or siblings or older adults. He broke off contact and never saw his abuser again. And he tried to move on. 

Now, in the present, as I shift through this muddled jigsaw of “dos and don’ts” and “what to-dos?”, I can’t come to any solid conclusions about my response to the incident that makes sense to me. I’m not sure I have to. I find my younger self’s concern for the well-being of the man who betrayed his trust the most difficult aspect to rationalise and comprehend.

Experts tell me my younger self’s emotional response was down to the process known as “grooming”: my uncertainty of what to do, who to speak to, a desire to, at the very least, bring no harm to my abuser is a reflection of the control my abuser sought to exert not only over my body but also my mind. I’ve been advised to seek counselling.

That sounds, belatedly, after 40yrs of carrying this burden upon my shoulders like a good thing to do. I strongly recommend that anyone who has been through a similar experience to mine not to take so long as I did to (confront it / address the issues/talk about it / get help).

samjhere@icloud.com