Dominique Strauss-Kahn and Arnold Schwartzenegger

The French are upset about the release of this photo to the press, that Strauss-Kahn essentially  walked a "perp walk" prior to a fair trial.

Dominique Strauss-Kahn has resigned as head of the International Monetary Fund, an organization that provides money, bail out money, to many struggling countries in Europe.  Nearly at the pinnacle of his career, a sure candidate for President of France, an alleged rape attempt threatens his political future.

The story, a media favorite, is that Strauss-Kahn hijacked a maid in the Sofital Hotel, pulled her into the bathroom, and forced her to perform oral sex.  She escaped, and as he caught a cab to the airport to return to France, she reported the crime to the police. Meanwhile, Strauss-Kahn called the hotel because he forgot his cell phone, and the hotel tipped them off.

Perhaps he was in a hurry to catch the next flight, which is why he forgot his phone, or perhaps, innocent of these charges, he had no reason whatsoever to think that calling the hotel for the phone would culminate in his arrest.

The police found him at the gate, returned his cell phone, but slapped on the cuffs, figuratively, we suppose. The charges?

Strauss-Kahn's lawyers have denied the charges of a criminal sexual act, attempted rape, sexual abuse, unlawful imprisonment and forcible touching. He was denied bail Monday.

Fifty-seven percent of the people of France believe he was framed. After all, he was the favorite political candidate of the country, and a known womanizer, not a crime in France or anywhere else in the world, unfortunately or not.  But perhaps not the best reputation for a married politician, womanizer.  His wife stands by his side, always has. 

This, the same week that Arnold Schwartzeneger admits to fathering a child with his housekeeper. Maria Shriver, however, has filed for divorce.  The pundits say that Mr. Schwartzeneger is finished politically, would have been finished without an affair, certainly is now.  He wants to go back to making movies.

Whether or not it is the death knoll of a public servant's political career or not, whether or not it is a marriage buster, or not, one thing is certain.  Philandering isn't a rape, but it is a breach of trust, and it feels like a travesty. Ms. Shriver ended her marriage, and the Governor of California is out of the governor's seat.

And Mr. Strauss-Kahn, it is likely, will also never run for political office again.  He may spend twenty-five years in prison if he is found guilty.

Derek Boogaard and Brain Injury

It is definitely the risk professionals take, getting hurt.  The old Jewish joke is that Jewish mothers won't let their children play touch football, certainly not hockey (a stick!).  When my son ripped his knee apart playing football at recess, his father didn't even tell me until he had stitched him up. The scar remains today.  Although his father did a nice job.

But everyone knows kids don't listen to moms.  And Derek Boogaard's mom surely adored her son, encouraged his athleticism, because we're defined by our attributes and not everyone can play hockey, certainly not well.

Apparently this happens in contact sports, lethal brain injuries.  Derek, 28,  is perhaps the youngest professional to suffer a fatal casualty on the field.  The "Big Teddy Bear", as he was affectionately called by his family, will be missed.  He had exactly the type of personality we need in sports today-- proactive, kind, charismatic. Generous, good.

After the injury Boogaard committed to contributing to trauma research.

Boogaard was approached by researchers after the death of former NHL enforcer Bob Probert, who died last year at the age of 45. The BU center found evidence in Probert’s brain of the chronic traumatic encephalopathy, which is associated with cognitive and behavioral problems and eventually causes dementia.

Derek said yes.

To the family-- we're sorry for your loss.  Like many great athletes, he was a wonderful role model.

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Rating the Girls

Didn't the kids learn anything from The Social Network? That's the movie about Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg. His entry into social networking, a website where Harvard guys rated Harvard women, caused a row, hurt the feelings of many, including his girlfriend. She never recovered from that inconsiderate, base act, and although he tried to apologize, tried to win her back, she could see the real guy behind the HTML, and she rejected him.

I'm told, however, that rating women is the oldest game in the book.  Yet it is still obnoxious, and apparently, because it shames and debases, is considered disorderly conduct at the current level, public humiliation.
A a boy has been arrested in Oak Park-River Forest High School for making a list of girls he thought sexy or not. Mostly, he degraded them, objectified them.

Oak Park, Ill. - An Oak Park juvenile was arrested Monday for allegedly devising and circulating a list ranking 50 female Oak Park-River Forest High School girls by their sexual characteristics and alleged sexual behaviors.

The list described the girls by explicit, derogatory nickname, physical appearance, sexual activity, desirability.  Posted on Facebook, hundreds of copies printed, distributed during lunch.

The father of one of the girls: “I’m gratified that the investigation continued, and that charges are being filed. I’m hopeful they consider additional charges as they gather more evidence.”

And therapy, for sure.  Get the kid some therapy.

Athletes and Women

Athletes are fit, and depending upon what a woman is looking for, attractive.

That doesn't give them the right to take what they want, certainly not women.  The latest case heralds from the University of Miami football team.  Jeffrey Brown is no longer on the roster.  His attorneys are saying the accusation of sexual battery is totally trumped up, and maybe it is.  The lesson, whether he is guilty or not, is that a man, a woman, an athlete, a college student, anyone, needs informed consent for sex.

If there's alcohol involved, it's hard to get informed consent.

There are people, for sure, who say that if a woman drinks too much, if she can't control how much alcohol she consumes, then she deserves what happens next.  She's surely going to have difficulty resisting a sexual assault.

But there shouldn't be sexual assault, of course.  This is not how civilized people behave toward one another.  Civilized people, those who have been raised to respect other people, don't press an advantage.  Life is not a game.  You don't press your advantage over those who are physically or mentally unable to resist assault.

It's a fairly old story, athletes and the association with rape, college males and intoxicated college females (although females can rape, too, and men are raped). We studied this one on campus in the late nineties, and the overwhelming consensus, burned into law in fifty states,  is that if a woman is forced to have sex especially under the influence, no matter if she knows him, no matter if she's in a relationship with him, no matter if she's had sex with him in the past, then what has happened is rape. Sex with an intoxicated partner, one who is legally substance impaired, can be deemed as rape in a court of law.

Accusations are legitimate, whether or not that seems fair.

Thus we started workshops at universities and colleges, even approached kids in high schools and middle schools, to tell them about the consequences of sex without informed consent. We told them not only does No Mean No, but even a Yes under the influence, isn't necessarily a Yes.  And sex with a minor is likely to  be considered statutory rape.

We focused on athletes and frat boys back then, but the "stars," for the guys in jerseys are celebrities, still make headline news for sexual battery and assault.

Again, they're not always guilty.  It has happened before,  false accusations against athletes, the most famous of these cases at Duke University, the lacrosse team.  Players were accused of gang-raping women hired to dance at a party (women of color, which made the case even more significant).  The players were later exonerated, not without extensive bad press and publicity. The prosecutor was asked to resign.

Forget athletes for a moment.  Rape is still a phenomenon on campus, even with all of prevention seminars at orientation, the peer pep talks.  Rape, even at Duke,  just won't go away.  The Chronical, Duke's student newspaper features a story about "Kate," a student forced onto a table and raped by two men on the last day of classes. Once free-spirited, the coed has lost her sense of safety, her trust in people.  Statistics:

Between July and December of 2010 alone, the Women’s Center saw 29 cases of rape or sexual assault, 25 in which the alleged perpetrator was a Duke undergraduate or a recent alumnus. Even this seemingly high number is likely a vast underrepresentation of the actual instances of sexual assault. By reporting, survivors often fear confronting the stigma that had they consumed less alcohol or dressed conservatively, they wouldn’t have been sexually assaulted.

So who do we educate?  Women? Tell them not to look good?

Or men who look good, or think they do, who think they have the right to take what they want?

I'd say the latter is still our priority.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Second-graders Having Sex in Class?

Say it isn't so.

But this is the latest:

In  a second-grade classroom, Oakland, California, a male teacher allowed children in class to undress, down to the skin, and the class watched as two classmates performed oral sex.

How does such a think happen?  Maybe it didn't happen.  Maybe the child who reported it to the teacher's assistant made it all up for attention.

But if it did occur, there are reasons.  A not so pretty, not exhaustive list:

(1) The child performing oral sex might have watched it at home, seen parents or siblings in the act.

(2) The child might have seen porn on a home computer, or pictures, magazines.

(3) The child may have been victimized himself, forced to perform oral sex on an adult or a cousin, a neighbor, a parent, anyone. Coercion, it's called.  Tell and I'll hurt you.
But sometimes it feels good, and being naughty is fun.  No need to tell.

(4) The teacher might have witnessed the child's sexual behavior, seen him touching himself or someone else, and encouraged the sex acts.  Live child porn on the job, irresistible for someone with a sex addiction, perhaps.  Pathetic?  Yes, but an addiction implies powerlessness.

(5) The teacher might be one of those people who photographs children having sex for personal satisfaction or financial gain.  These sell for a premium.

(6) The teacher might have become an elementary school teacher to have access to children.  Taking advantage, exploiting little children, really isn't very hard to do.  They're trusting.

(7) The teacher might be a registered sex offender, may have priors, and somehow evaded his employers.

How can schools screen for such a thing, is the real question. And what about damage control?
How will the administrators at Markham School talk to those second-graders about what they just saw, about what they did, without shaming them, damaging them?

Tell them sex is for adults?  That this variation of fun is something you do when you're all grown-up?  They don't see the point of waiting for pleasure, not usually. They're children. And they see sex on television, that it is attractive, inviting, fun, exciting. The stars of vampire movies are in their teens, and they're clearly attracted to one another, sexually attracted. It's not reserved for adults.

One thing is clear.  We have to talk to the kids, and we can't wait for them to get to that age of maturity, whatever that age seems to be.  Fifty years ago we thought,

We'll talk to them just before they reach puberty, begin to tell them about the birds and the bees.

At this rate puberty will begin in first grade.

Nicolas Cage, Movie Stars and Antics

They're really not antics when film stars get drunk and batter their spouses, or hit vehicles and yell at policemen. All three criminal acts, actually.

Does it say something about privilege?  Does it tell us that thinking that because the world loves you (and as an actor, who doesn't love Mr. Cage) that you can do whatever you want? Do what feels good? For raging feels better, everyone knows, than holding it in and acting like a civilized human being.

That's what we do when we hold it in.  We act.  Because most of us, when we're upset, angry afraid, perhaps owe the IRS a tidy sum of money, are anything but happy about it.

The Internet tabloids tell us that Mr. Cage is down on his luck, owes the IRS money. A morning news team tags that number at 12 million, so the timing is spot on. 

An excuse to hurt your spouse and have a tantrum in public? Or anywhere else?  His wife isn't pressing charges, and he's already out on bond, but the star has a history of angry outbursts.

This time he told police, "Why don't you just arrest me?"  And they did.

Life's not a movie.  But hey, the cameras are still running.

Not the role model, exactly, some of us have in mind when we think, movie star.

No Means No at Yale

Caveat, it's not a pretty post, and the language might upset some people.

At the University of New Hampshire Vice President Biden announced new federal guidelines about campus sexual assault and the mandate of universities. He waxed on poetically:

"No means no, if you're drunk or you're sober. No means no if you're in bed, in a dorm or on the street. No means no even if you said yes at first and you changed your mind.No means no."

Those of us in sexual assault/harassment prevention really prefer, Yes Means Yes, to No Means No, although obviously, a woman-- a man-- always has the right to change his or her mind.

But Yes Means Yes emphasizes that legal sexual relationships are not forced or coerced-- consent is necessary and it has to be informed.  Informed consent is sober, not impaired by substances, is dependent upon adult status (17 or 18, depending upon the state) and mental competency.

Last year, Yale students pledging Delta Kappa Epsilon marched around campus chanting, "No means yes, yes means anal. No means yes, yes mean anal." 

Were they coerced to chant this? Was this a hazing exercise? And if it was, whatever happened to challenging the bystander effect?  This at Yale!

Sixteen current and former Yale students filed a complaint with the US Department of Education's Office for Civil Rights, describing a sexually hostile environment on campus. Students complained that the university has failed to respond appropriately to reports of sexual violence. Meaning, probably, that the response didn't happen, or Yale may not have notified the Department of Justice of allegations of rape or harassment.  These are serious claims.

A school is in violation of Title IX of the Civil Rights Act when women, one of the protected classes, are discriminated against in educational institutions. It is the responsibility of federally funded schools (most schools are) to ensure that there is no hostile environment on campus. A hostile environment enables harassment and sexual assault, isn't adverse or militant about it.

Typically victims of rape on campus leave school.  Whereas perpetrators, usually classmates, stay on to graduate.  Sometimes the perpetrator is an instructor.  Sometimes the victim is an instructor.  But most are students.

One in five college women are victims of rape or attempted rape.  We think one in ten men.  Alcohol and drugs are generally associated with acquaintance rape.  Educational efforts, once aimed at the victim, now engage college men-- fraternity men especially, and athletes.  Demystifying myths, fostering empathy for victims, these interventions are thought to reduce sexual assault, if anything will.

And at the core, always, is changing a culture that demeans, belittles, harasses, harms, makes fun, exploits, coerces, steals.

Maybe informed consent should be in writing.  Pass out the forms at the student union.

And those kids at Yale?  Maybe they shouldn't go to Yale anymore.  Now that would make a statement.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT  

It's So Freaking Stupid

Those are the words of Margarite, a young woman who sent a boy a naked picture of herself using her cell phone.  We call it sexting, and it is a felony, transporting child pornography.  In many states law-makers are trying to make sexting a lesser offense, a misdemeanor.  But for now it implies jail time, what is called, juvie.

She thought she would impress him. The story is in the New York Times, the consequences dire. Margarite's picture followed her to a new school and she had to switch back. She is called a whore, a slut. She isn't, but that's what people call girls who send naked pictures to boys.

Boys, of course, who have pictures of boys won't dare show them to others. But girls? These go viral instantly.

Bully fodder. Any child who is a bully, who has aggressive inclinations, seizes upon an opportunity like this one. Margarite had social problems before, and now she will always wonder if she can trust anyone.

We've talked about it before on this blog. Everything on the Internet is permanent, and replicable. Watch who you friend.

S C Johnson and the new social revolution

It does seem that women, even young teenage girls, are not going to take it anymore.

S C Johnson's family brings us Pledge, Johnson’s Wax, Off, Raid, Ziplock, Windex, baby oil, and dozens of other household products.  The namesake is accused of sexually abusing his step-daughter these past three years.

The irony, of course, is that the company brands itself a family company.

At 15 the young teen victim tells NBC that her step-father sexually abused her.  She’s speaking out now to protect her younger sister. The maximum penalty for Mr. Johnson is 40 years in prison.

His brother, protecting the company, tells us that every family has its own crises, and that S C does not represent the company. Yet we see him on video on the morning news, proudly pointing to his products in the grocery store aisles.

We wonder  if corporate might beef up the sexual harassment component of S C Johnson wellness workshops, invite the upper echelons.

How prevalent is incest? All we really can measure are reported crimes, and 49% of all sexual crimes in the under 5-year old age group are family related. The numbers go down to 24%, nearly one in four, as children get older, move into adolescence, the 12-17 year-old range.  But acquaintance rapes, sexual assaults by friends, mentors, neighbors, etc.,  rises proportionally to 66%.

The good news is that with treatment, recidivism is low for incest. Only 6-13% of incest perpetrators who are caught and go through treatment become repeat offenders, as opposed to extrafamilial offenders of boys— 23-35% are repeaters. 

Mr. Johnson’s step-daughter's action signifies empowerment, what we hope will be the new wave for children who suffer sexual abuse.  Opening up, speaking out, especially against a powerful perpetrator is embarrassing, difficult.  The crime of sex against teenagers is normalized in our society, unfortunately, the sexualization of children, no longer something news-worthy, it seems.  We see it every day on television.

Mr. Johnson is being accused of having a sex addiction.  In my neck of the woods we call it ephebophilia, having a sexual obsession with adolescents. 

A sex addiction is a nice way to say that S C can't stop his behavior.  He might buy time with that.  We don't know, really, if he is guilty, or if he has a sex addiction, or ephebophilia.  This is America, and we are all innocent until proven otherwise.

The hope here is that if it is true, that S C Johnson owns his behavior, doesn't lie about it, uses his money to make amends, to help other children who are losing their childhood to sexual assault.  He’ll have the best of legal defenders, but it is likely that no one will feel sorry for him unless he does this.  That would be newsworthy. 

Kudos to children with the energy, the self-esteem, and surely the resources and support to strike back.

Now.  If she could only get back her innocence.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Jim Tressel and the Big Lie

It is known that scouts hunt for college athletes, and when they find them, treat them with kid gloves, groom them for winning, not for studying. Finding the best athletes in their early teens is a treasure hunt.

When they find a winner, he is wined (proverbially, for he is under-aged) and dined to join the team.  The glitter, the perks of money and girls, parties and fame, is waved in front of hungry teenage eyes. Sometimes an athlete is lifted off the sandlot, or leaves a hard life, even a criminal record, behind. He wears a team jersey, a sweater, with pride.  A new man, as it should be.

Once on campus, as winners, great players prove themselves worth the courtship, and the winning coach, a hero-maker, is a god.  One who turns out gods.

Player behavioral issues are swept under the rug, and few ethics violations ever make it to press. Occasionally something big will happen.  A lacrosse star like George Huguely will get too drunk, and his usual disorderly conduct might escalate to the degree that in the heat of physically shaking someone (Yeardly Love, his girlfriend) he may bang her head against the wall, kill her in an early morning row.  Behavior like that will make the headlines.

Shameful for those authorities who knew he had problems with alcohol, knew he could be violent, who didn't do enough to stop this.  Parents send healthy young men and women off to school, trust them to the hands of authorities, rule-makers, enforcers. And across the nation alcohol education initiatives warn students about reckless behavior, alcohol related accidents. 

Whether they attend or not, students who ignore rules, who are known to engage in risky behavior, need attention. Every student represents a school.  Someone should have stood up to George Huguely, should have said, "You're an abusive drunk and you have a disorderly conduct record, so you don't play until you have had a successful rehab."  Successful.  That's a carrot at the end of the stick that works, something that might have saved Yeardley Love.  And it would be the coach, the manager of the team, to initiate such an intervention.

Coach Jim Tressel of the Ohio State Buckeyes didn't have to send anyone to rehab, and his players didn't murder anyone.  But he could have made a much bigger deal about the latest scandal,  players selling team memorabilia to a tattoo parlor in Columbus, Ohio.  Mr. Tressel may have lied about it to NCAA investigators in December, knowing that some of his players sold rings and trinkets, but covering it up as isolated incidents.

He should have held his men to a higher behavioral standard, for they are not boys anymore, made them look in the mirror.  

This is who you are?  A memorabilia trafficker?  Really?

It is an NCAA ethics violation, and large or small, lying about it, covering it up makes us think that athletic heroes don't really have to behave like everyone else.  They have privilege, protection.  Forget character development.  What matters is winning.

It hardly sounds like something worth lying about, jeopardizing the coach's career, protecting his athletes from a slap on the wrist. We're not talking rehab.  Maybe they would have had to attend an ethics seminar.  Everyone might learn something.

On the sandlot, kids sell a lot worse.

And for this, for an oversight, an I forgot, a memory glitch in an investigation, the seven-time Big Ten championship coach may lose his job. Hopefully not.

A coach is supposed to be the role model, the one who turns his treasures into leaders, the motivation king. The coach is the man.  And when players are errant, he knows it.  People talk, he hears, his head isn't buried in the sand, and he should do something about it, yes, make it a big issue, a stink, if necessary, with his players.  Not cover for them.

You found them, Coach Tressel. Everyone looks up to you, and to your team.  They are much more than mere winners and losers. Anyone can win, anyone can lose.  What are they doing when they're not doing that?

Finding Love on the Internet: John Hopkins

I went to a conference.  Came home with that poster.

John Hopkins, indicted last week on 62 counts, allegedly tied a woman to a radiator, raped her for days, made her his sexual slave.  She says he bought her a one-way ticket to New York, picked her up at the airport, took her home to torture her.  This almost sounds like human trafficking.  He bought the ticket, deceived her.  But he didn't sell her.  If the story is even true.

He has a plausible rebuttal.  He says that  theirs was a consensual dom/subdom relationship. She wanted this, to be tied up, handcuffed.

And the Craig's List ad wasn't his, Mr. Hopkins tells us, it was hers.  She was looking for this type of sexual relationship.

Jurisprudence will decide if anyone is guilty, but there is a world of difference between sexual slavery and a consensual dominant/subdominant  relationship.

As the poster implies, modern-day human trafficking used to be about kidnapping women and children from other countries for the purposes of prostitution here.  I got the sense, at the conference, that it is also about moving people from place to place for the purposes of other types of exploitation. They  passed out the poster in the last five minutes, didn't define it very well.

But we know that children and adults are persuaded every day to follow other  people to places they would never go otherwise, to do things they don't want to do.   They are typically beaten, raped, blackmailed, drugged, and photographed, and the timing isn't necessarily immediate.  Victims are sometimes groomed for abuse, slowly convinced that the job, whatever it is, is in their best interests.  Financially and emotionally dependent, unable to leave, they are vulnerable to whatever the "job description."

Some predators target immigrants looking for work, offer salary and opportunity they couldn't find anywhere else.Once a person is dependent upon someone else for a job, it is hard to leave.   

Some victims, not necessarily immigrants, but children, or lonely people looking for relationships, are found in the safety of their own homes, online either in chat rooms or social networking sites.  They might be photographed from webcams, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. The predator's objective may or may not be to lure the victim somewhere else.

They look for the vulnerable, the gullible-- unhappy people, especially kids-- who can be persuaded, coerced into relationships.  It's all exploitative, sometimes for porn, sometimes voyeurism, sometimes rape or prostitution.

Dangle the prospect of easy money, the hopes of a modeling or acting career, and if you're young and pretty you might believe it, believe in yourself and your prospects.  It all sounds very exciting, certainly to people who don't know the ways of this country, don't necessarily understand English. Sometimes the offer is a safe place to hang out and party.  Kids can't buy alcohol and drugs without help.  Make them a home away from home.

A predator or a trafficker will try to be a friend or a mentor, will slowly build the relationship, get closer and closer, more and more intimate to gain trust.  Stalking with digital technology, the computer, the phone, an empathetic predator listens to problems, consoles, grooms the relationship.  Sexting may become a part of it eventually.  It starts with a little shoulder.  You look great in that shirt.  Unbutton the top button.  Every kid has a webcam these days.  Sometimes a predator will wait a year before suggesting a meeting.

Victims have often been abused before, may even have sex addictions. Sex is life, why not be paid, voluntary participants.  They become runaways, but they are running to.

Or they are kids who post on Facebook or blog about being depressed, misunderstood.  Ironically, kids who are lured to meet a predator often think they are going to a party. Alcohol and drugs in exchange for your attendance.

Room and board in exchange for housekeeping, cooking.

The story about Mr. Hopkins, whether any of it is true or not, brings the whole concept of sexual slavery and predation, too, to public consciousness.  As an interstate or international crime, these are concerns of the FBI and state's attorneys offices.  The poster above, for mental health professionals, makes us aware of the problem. We're supposed to tell you:  Watch out-- people are not always what they seem.

People who answer ads looking for consensual  dom/subdom, or dominant-subdominant relationships are usually old enough to know what they like. They trust that they will not really be hurt.  Theirs is an intimate, misunderstood population. They are looking for love.

"Why did she do this to me?" Mr. Hopkins is said to have asked when the police apprehended him, took him to jail. We would have to do a complete psycho-social medical evaluation to provide the answer.

But we can tell him, and anyone else who will listen, that finding love on Craig's List might not be the safest way to go about finding a long-lasting, fulfilling relationship, or even a short-term, happy relationship, although maybe it's possible.

Just get to know the person first,  before getting too close, before having a sleep over, even.  Take a few weeks, maybe months.

To really know someone, it can take years.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Childhood Abuse and Senator Scott Brown

After Lara Logan's recent sustained sexual assault in Egypt (Feb 11) and the publication of Bill Zeller's suicide note last January, I had hoped that we would have a break. If you talk about this kind of thing non-stop, it loses its shock value and nobody cares.

But today, Scott Brown, junior senator from Massachusettes, came out as a victim of childhood sexual abuse.

When respected people come out with stories of childhood abuse, the effect is to de-shame.  They're telling us: It's Okay.  Talk about it.  This is common.  Self-disclose.

Or Be aware, be proactive.  Keep an eye on children, not only your own children.  Have an ear to the ground.

Mental health professionals have known for decades that victims do better given a safe place and an opportunity to talk.  It takes courage to do this, to talk about trauma to anyone. How hard that must be, especially telling the world! Public disclosures are humbling to the millions who can not do it in any context.

We should try to create these contexts.

Maybe it is easier for public figures. They are desensitized to paparazzi and negative press. But it can't be that easy, even for them. Truthfully, we would hear a hundred stories a day if every celebrity who had been molested or raped came out and said,

It happened to me.

That won't happen, no worries, because just because a person is a celebrity, doesn't mean he or she doesn't still suffer, doesn't want privacy.  When they opt for publicity, when they do speak out, some of us are rightly jaded, a little suspicious.  As soon as an actor or a newscaster or a singer or a politician discloses childhood abuse, there is a book to follow. Or an election, or both. The public sympathizes because the public has been there.  Vote in hand.  Ka-ching at Barnes & Nobel.

The message should be that there is a better time, really, to come out as a victim of abuse. (One is only a survivor after coping with the effects of the trauma, integrating the experience into a positive sense of self.)

It's called childhood. Schools, churches, synagogues, and community centers have to address the problem, slip it into the health curriculum, the early childhood (yes, early) nursery programs and elementary schools, using language that little children understand.

Many organizations do this using language that parents understand, talking mostly to parents, avoid addressing children at all.  This is a beginning, but PTA attendance is sparse, and we're preaching to the choir.

But still.  Have the meetings with parents and tell the parents who go to the meetings regularly to invite their  friends.  And at these meetings teach parents to invite children to their tables, especially the shy ones, the fringe, to get to know them as people.  Do you see how much work we have to do?  And work on those educational efforts for children.

The kids get it. They see it on television. They hear about it in recess. And they experience it. So why not bring it to them in a way that normalizes help-seeking. Save society millions in abuse dollars.

Scott Brown? He's a survivor, an example of how some people make it through. For every Scott Brown,  there are millions who don't, who never talked to anyone, kept the "toxic" secret to themselves.

The public will get tired of hearing this stuff, these stories, already is. It is up to the educators, the community action groups and community organizations to find resources, safe contexts for kids and adults to talk about sexual abuse.  We shouldn't desensitize, not care.

Because most kids won't have a microphone and don't want one.

Lara Logan: Gang Rape

A brutal sexual assault on February 11, the day President Hosni Mubarak steps down.  Lara Logan, covering the story for 60 Minutes,  is separated from the camera crew in the melee of celebration.  A group of women and an estimated 20 Egyptian soldiers save her.

It takes twenty soldiers.

What happened there? How does what could have been a gang rape happen in the middle of a celebration?  In the middle of all this feel good, Hurray for democracy! suddenly, there is a very, very

feel bad.

We want to know who attacked Lara Logan (we assume, could be wrong, raped, if it is a brutal sexual assault) , but her nemesis is a faceless mob-- faceless to us, not to her, for Ms. Logan will remember faces.  To the world they will be anonymous, like-minded men, unknowns, who made her into a symbol, a something that needs to be stamped out, hurt, taught a lesson. Why?

Reporters tell us that the journalists in Cairo were intimidated, thought to be spies for the West, for Israel.  The police rounded up the members of the foreign press and jailed them, interrogated and harassed them before finally letting them go.  Go get your story now.  See what happens. 

Intimidation, jail, one thing.  Rape, or sexual assault, quite another, a special type of intimidation, a different type of violence, one that symbolizes dominion.  But there are different types of rape, different motives, and this is as good a time as any to discuss them.

Mental health professionals used to think of rape as a generic angry act, an act of defiance.  But ignorance and power underscore acquaintance and date rape, acts associated with rape myths.  One such myth might be believing that nice girls say no when they mean yes. A man thinking this way might force sex, thinking he has permission-- when really, he doesn't. Rape, if it's forced.  No means No, in all fifty of the United States of America.

Acquaintance and date rapes can also be about anger, coercion, blackmail, harassment-- wielding power with sexual aggression.  None of it benign.  And alcohol is usually in the picture, yes usually, when it comes to acquaintance and  date rape. A victim is incapacitated, incapable of fighting, sometimes unconscious.

Jailed rapists, perpetrators of individual stranger rapes, have a different modus operandi, and are diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder.  These individuals are considered sociopaths, people who defy authority, who take what they want, who want to hurt others.

Gang rape differs in that it is a crime of passion, but all about the need to bond, to be a part of a group. If there is anger, it is difficult to determine who is angry.  Weaved into the psychology of gang rape is  group think, a need to find favor from a leader, a person who is influential, charismatic, encourages the crime.  The group believes, or wants to believe, what the leader believes, and each member likes the feeling, being a part of something bigger than himself, and follows along.

Gang rape is of one mind, a group cognitive process of coercion. Participants deny their own sense of right and wrong, their own individuality, to do what the rest of the group tells them to do.

Men convicted of gang rape tell us they were afraid not to join in.  They were afraid of being left out, afraid of losing status. Sometimes the rape is an initiation into the gang, or the club, the fraternity, even the team-- a way to become a part of something.  If you're not with us, you're against us.  Becoming one of the gang, male or female bonding, feels good.

In Cairo last week, becoming a part of something, pleasing someone, needing to attach to other men, impressing a leader, enjoying the feeling of power-- all of this mixed into the psychopathology, the sick thinking of every man in that fringe group.  And the subsequent conclusion, the sexual assault of Lara Logan.

The politics are unclear, do not matter.  What matters is need: the individual need for validation and a universal need for power and control.  And unfortunately, one way to achieve that validation is to join in, even when the group corrupts, behaves in ways that are psychologically, physically, and sexually abusive.  

One way to power is to show others how vulnerable they are.

Surely, had the Egyptian women who intervened not been there, Ms. Logan would be dead. And we would be watching funeral services on TV.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Congressional Role Models

I had his picture up, but didn't want it on my blog, took it down.

Photo of Rep. Christopher Lee, New York Daily News

Governors, Congressmen, Presidents-- important people-- get caught in scandals every day.

Well maybe not every day, but it happens. We should be used to it, but there are so many ways to get into trouble, we're almost looking, unconsciously, for something new, every time we open our browsers to catch the news.

Sometimes the scandal goes away quickly, as this one might for Rep. Christopher Lee (NY). The congressman resigned immediately. But we won't forget his picture, a risk he took as soon as he emailed it to a young woman he met on Women Looking for Men. Craig's List classifieds.

That's the lesson, obviously. Mail the picture? You can lose it forever.

Sometimes the scandal, the reputation, lives on. Who doesn't remember the Monica Lewinsky affair, and President Clinton's defense? It wasn't terribly convincing, and his cover insulted the intelligence of the American people.

What we hate most, much more than the deception, is hypocrisy. We don't like important people purporting to be other than they are. Yet to be elected, everyone has to do this, exaggerate their wholesomeness. So some of us don't even mind the lies, the hypocrisy, in fact, we find it kind of cute. Expected.

Mr. Lee resigned because the woman he wanted to hook up with doubted his veracity and sent Gawker copies of his emails. She then cut off the relationship.

He apparently lied about:

(1) his age, shaved off seven years to a more virile 39,

(2) his profession, claimed to be a lobbyist, and

(3) his marital status, divorced. He's married with a young son.

"A very fit fun classy guy" who would not "disappoint."

He surely disappointed someone, many.

You should know that the cut off, should a man be looking for younger girls, is 39. A day over 40 and the chances of finding her diminish.

You have to wonder,

Who needs this much excitement?

That is at the core of this type of behavior, a need for excitement.

Now Mr. Lee will have to figure out another way to find it. Maybe his wife will stick with him, perhaps they'll work together on it. People used to play golf, cards, play tennis, go to marriage counseling to liven up the commitment, make it feel less of a trap.

Cheating on a spouse, having someone on the side, is nothing new, not really. You would think, however, that with all the exposure of electronic media, the immediacy of a public profile, knowing (he must know!) that privacy is truly a thing of the past, that a person who depends upon positive exposure would be more careful. You would think a person could resist this.

Obsession, addiction, Mr. Lee will call it something, offer an apology to his family, his constituents, an explanation. But it's a hard essay to write,

Why I Couldn't Resist Having an Affair with a Woman I Found . . . 

                  on Craig's List

without admitting that at heart, you're not quite ready to represent your constituents.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Bill Zeller

If a person only lives for one reason, to share a story, one that will change the lives of millions of others . . .

then how can we hold him responsible for taking it?

Bill Zeller took his life on January 5, 2011. His lengthy suicide note tells us why. He says he is sane, knows what he is doing. Sane does not mean he was not mentally ill.

We generally refer to sanity as orientation times three. Knowing who we are, where we are, and the date. It is an old definition, time, person, place. What we really mean is that we are in touch with who we are, really, and others, that we can sense the feelings, understand the words of others, that we aren't detached to the degree that the voices in our heads, or one voice, a lone voice, is all we hear.

Every therapist reading the letter (below) wonders, Could I have helped this man?

His description of his therapy: busy doctors scanning treatment notes before saying hello, as if maybe this is a gall stone; not engaging him, looking into his eyes to see the pain, not expressing some concern or even small talk about the weather, sports.

This should be a huge wake up call to professionals everywhere who aren't tuned in to people, who see their jobs as drudgery, who can't distinguish one patient from the other, or won't take the time to read those notes before the patient walks through the door, takes a place on the leather couch.

It is scary that many professionals operate this way, that it is can be standard procedure. Remain aloof, detached. Maybe this way sick people won't come back, the ones with the real pain. I don't know. When you read Mr. Zeller's history, you can't believe it, poor man, his luck of the draw.

The job of the therapist is to engage the patient, not the other way around. We're supposed to sow a therapeutic relationship, trust, confidentiality. We diagnose based upon a history, most of us get it asap, and develop a treatment plan together with the patient, if at all possible.

For sexual abuse, the plan is complicated, includes group therapy to de-shame. Most survivors feel they are surely the only ones to have suffered so much pain, but they aren't. It's fairly common, sexual abuse, and incest is the most common sexual crime of all.

Had Bill Zeller had that relationship, maybe he wouldn't have had to tell his story and book. Leave us.

He could have told his story, and lived to deliver yet another program, another patent.

Below, Gizmodo's reprint of the suicide letter that Mr. Zeller requested be reprinted, and remembered.

The Agonizing Last Words of Programmer Bill Zeller

Bill Zeller was a talented programmer whose work we've featured on Lifehacker. He took his own life on Sunday and left an explanation that I think it's important you read.

Zeller was a victim of sexual and psychological abuse. It's clear from his writing that the abuse left him unable to interface with the world in any way that didn't leave him feeling he was too sullied to have the same experiences that he thought others had. He had a self-described "darkness", which despite his prostration it's clear he handled more ably than perhaps he ever realized.

Programming was a solace, but only temporarily. Zeller never felt he could escape the things that had happened to him because he carried his torment with him everywhere.

I think a person has the right to live or end their life as they choose. If Zeller really felt that suicide was his only option, so be it. But as someone who has had similar experiences in my own life, I want to say to anyone else who feels the way Zeller felt: You can't escape your past. Not completely. But you can deal with it. You can contextualize it. You can learn how to prepare for the times when you feel like it's not even on your radar and then it totally broadsides you.

And you can talk to people. You really can.
Bill Zeller

I have the urge to declare my sanity and justify my actions, but I assume I'll never be able to convince anyone that this was the right decision. Maybe it's true that anyone who does this is insane by definition, but I can at least explain my reasoning. I considered not writing any of this because of how personal it is, but I like tying up loose ends and don't want people to wonder why I did this. Since I've never spoken to anyone about what happened to me, people would likely draw the wrong conclusions.

My first memories as a child are of being raped, repeatedly. This has affected every aspect of my life. This darkness, which is the only way I can describe it, has followed me like a fog, but at times intensified and overwhelmed me, usually triggered by a distinct situation. In kindergarten I couldn't use the bathroom and would stand petrified whenever I needed to, which started a trend of awkward and unexplained social behavior. The damage that was done to my body still prevents me from using the bathroom normally, but now it's less of a physical impediment than a daily reminder of what was done to me.

This darkness followed me as I grew up. I remember spending hours playing with legos, having my world consist of me and a box of cold, plastic blocks. Just waiting for everything to end. It's the same thing I do now, but instead of legos it's surfing the web or reading or listening to a baseball game. Most of my life has been spent feeling dead inside, waiting for my body to catch up.

At times growing up I would feel inconsolable rage, but I never connected this to what happened until puberty. I was able to keep the darkness at bay for a few hours at a time by doing things that required intense concentration, but it would always come back. Programming appealed to me for this reason. I was never particularly fond of computers or mathematically inclined, but the temporary peace it would provide was like a drug. But the darkness always returned and built up something like a tolerance, because programming has become less and less of a refuge.

The darkness is with me nearly every time I wake up. I feel like a grime is covering me. I feel like I'm trapped in a contimated body that no amount of washing will clean. Whenever I think about what happened I feel manic and itchy and can't concentrate on anything else. It manifests itself in hours of eating or staying up for days at a time or sleeping for sixteen hours straight or week long programming binges or constantly going to the gym. I'm exhausted from feeling like this every hour of every day.

Three to four nights a week I have nightmares about what happened. It makes me avoid sleep and constantly tired, because sleeping with what feels like hours of nightmares is not restful. I wake up sweaty and furious. I'm reminded every morning of what was done to me and the control it has over my life.

I've never been able to stop thinking about what happened to me and this hampered my social interactions. I would be angry and lost in thought and then be interrupted by someone saying "Hi" or making small talk, unable to understand why I seemed cold and distant. I walked around, viewing the outside world from a distant portal behind my eyes, unable to perform normal human niceties. I wondered what it would be like to take to other people without what happened constantly on my mind, and I wondered if other people had similar experiences that they were better able to mask.

Alcohol was also something that let me escape the darkness. It would always find me later, though, and it was always angry that I managed to escape and it made me pay. Many of the irresponsible things I did were the result of the darkness. Obviously I'm responsible for every decision and action, including this one, but there are reasons why things happen the way they do.

Alcohol and other drugs provided a way to ignore the realities of my situation. It was easy to spend the night drinking and forget that I had no future to look forward to. I never liked what alcohol did to me, but it was better than facing my existence honestly. I haven't touched alcohol or any other drug in over seven months (and no drugs or alcohol will be involved when I do this) and this has forced me to evaluate my life in an honest and clear way. There's no future here. The darkness will always be with me.

I used to think if I solved some problem or achieved some goal, maybe he would leave. It was comforting to identify tangible issues as the source of my problems instead of something that I'll never be able to change. I thought that if I got into to a good college, or a good grad school, or lost weight, or went to the gym nearly every day for a year, or created programs that millions of people used, or spent a summer or California or New York or published papers that I was proud of, then maybe I would feel some peace and not be constantly haunted and unhappy. But nothing I did made a dent in how depressed I was on a daily basis and nothing was in any way fulfilling. I'm not sure why I ever thought that would change anything.

I didn't realize how deep a hold he had on me and my life until my first relationship. I stupidly assumed that no matter how the darkness affected me personally, my romantic relationships would somehow be separated and protected. Growing up I viewed my future relationships as a possible escape from this thing that haunts me every day, but I began to realize how entangled it was with every aspect of my life and how it is never going to release me. Instead of being an escape, relationships and romantic contact with other people only intensified everything about him that I couldn't stand. I will never be able to have a relationship in which he is not the focus, affecting every aspect of my romantic interactions.

Relationships always started out fine and I'd be able to ignore him for a few weeks. But as we got closer emotionally the darkness would return and every night it'd be me, her and the darkness in a black and gruesome threesome. He would surround me and penetrate me and the more we did the more intense it became. It made me hate being touched, because as long as we were separated I could view her like an outsider viewing something good and kind and untainted. Once we touched, the darkness would envelope her too and take her over and the evil inside me would surround her. I always felt like I was infecting anyone I was with.

Relationships didn't work. No one I dated was the right match, and I thought that maybe if I found the right person it would overwhelm him. Part of me knew that finding the right person wouldn't help, so I became interested in girls who obviously had no interest in me. For a while I thought I was gay. I convinced myself that it wasn't the darkness at all, but rather my orientation, because this would give me control over why things didn't feel "right". The fact that the darkness affected sexual matters most intensely made this idea make some sense and I convinced myself of this for a number of years, starting in college after my first relationship ended. I told people I was gay (at Trinity, not at Princeton), even though I wasn't attracted to men and kept finding myself interested in girls. Because if being gay wasn't the answer, then what was? People thought I was avoiding my orientation, but I was actually avoiding the truth, which is that while I'm straight, I will never be content with anyone. I know now that the darkness will never leave.

Last spring I met someone who was unlike anyone else I'd ever met. Someone who showed me just how well two people could get along and how much I could care about another human being. Someone I know I could be with and love for the rest of my life, if I weren't so fucked up. Amazingly, she liked me. She liked the shell of the man the darkness had left behind. But it didn't matter because I couldn't be alone with her. It was never just the two of us, it was always the three of us: her, me and the darkness. The closer we got, the more intensely I'd feel the darkness, like some evil mirror of my emotions. All the closeness we had and I loved was complemented by agony that I couldn't stand, from him. I realized that I would never be able to give her, or anyone, all of me or only me. She could never have me without the darkness and evil inside me. I could never have just her, without the darkness being a part of all of our interactions. I will never be able to be at peace or content or in a healthy relationship. I realized the futility of the romantic part of my life. If I had never met her, I would have realized this as soon as I met someone else who I meshed similarly well with. It's likely that things wouldn't have worked out with her and we would have broken up (with our relationship ending, like the majority of relationships do) even if I didn't have this problem, since we only dated for a short time. But I will face exactly the same problems with the darkness with anyone else. Despite my hopes, love and compatability is not enough. Nothing is enough. There's no way I can fix this or even push the darkness down far enough to make a relationship or any type of intimacy feasible.

So I watched as things fell apart between us. I had put an explicit time limit on our relationship, since I knew it couldn't last because of the darkness and didn't want to hold her back, and this caused a variety of problems. She was put in an unnatural situation that she never should have been a part of. It must have been very hard for her, not knowing what was actually going on with me, but this is not something I've ever been able to talk about with anyone. Losing her was very hard for me as well. Not because of her (I got over our relationship relatively quickly), but because of the realization that I would never have another relationship and because it signified the last true, exclusive personal connection I could ever have. This wasn't apparent to other people, because I could never talk about the real reasons for my sadness. I was very sad in the summer and fall, but it was not because of her, it was because I will never escape the darkness with anyone. She was so loving and kind to me and gave me everything I could have asked for under the circumstances. I'll never forget how much happiness she brought me in those briefs moments when I could ignore the darkness. I had originally planned to kill myself last winter but never got around to it. (Parts of this letter were written over a year ago, other parts days before doing this.) It was wrong of me to involve myself in her life if this were a possibility and I should have just left her alone, even though we only dated for a few months and things ended a long time ago. She's just one more person in a long list of people I've hurt.

I could spend pages talking about the other relationships I've had that were ruined because of my problems and my confusion related to the darkness. I've hurt so many great people because of who I am and my inability to experience what needs to be experienced. All I can say is that I tried to be honest with people about what I thought was true.

I've spent my life hurting people. Today will be the last time.

I've told different people a lot of things, but I've never told anyone about what happened to me, ever, for obvious reasons. It took me a while to realize that no matter how close you are to someone or how much they claim to love you, people simply cannot keep secrets. I learned this a few years ago when I thought I was gay and told people. The more harmful the secret, the juicier the gossip and the more likely you are to be betrayed. People don't care about their word or what they've promised, they just do whatever the fuck they want and justify it later. It feels incredibly lonely to realize you can never share something with someone and have it be between just the two of you. I don't blame anyone in particular, I guess it's just how people are. Even if I felt like this is something I could have shared, I have no interest in being part of a friendship or relationship where the other person views me as the damaged and contaminated person that I am. So even if I were able to trust someone, I probably would not have told them about what happened to me. At this point I simply don't care who knows.

I feel an evil inside me. An evil that makes me want to end life. I need to stop this. I need to make sure I don't kill someone, which is not something that can be easily undone. I don't know if this is related to what happened to me or something different. I recognize the irony of killing myself to prevent myself from killing someone else, but this decision should indicate what I'm capable of.

So I've realized I will never escape the darkness or misery associated with it and I have a responsibility to stop myself from physically harming others.

I'm just a broken, miserable shell of a human being. Being molested has defined me as a person and shaped me as a human being and it has made me the monster I am and there's nothing I can do to escape it. I don't know any other existence. I don't know what life feels like where I'm apart from any of this. I actively despise the person I am. I just feel fundamentally broken, almost non-human. I feel like an animal that woke up one day in a human body, trying to make sense of a foreign world, living among creatures it doesn't understand and can't connect with.

I have accepted that the darkness will never allow me to be in a relationship. I will never go to sleep with someone in my arms, feeling the comfort of their hands around me. I will never know what uncontimated intimacy is like. I will never have an exclusive bond with someone, someone who can be the recipient of all the love I have to give. I will never have children, and I wanted to be a father so badly. I think I would have made a good dad. And even if I had fought through the darkness and married and had children all while being unable to feel intimacy, I could have never done that if suicide were a possibility. I did try to minimize pain, although I know that this decision will hurt many of you. If this hurts you, I hope that you can at least forget about me quickly.

There's no point in identifying who molested me, so I'm just going to leave it at that. I doubt the word of a dead guy with no evidence about something that happened over twenty years ago would have much sway.

You may wonder why I didn't just talk to a professional about this. I've seen a number of doctors since I was a teenager to talk about other issues and I'm positive that another doctor would not have helped. I was never given one piece of actionable advice, ever. More than a few spent a large part of the session reading their notes to remember who I was. And I have no interest in talking about being raped as a child, both because I know it wouldn't help and because I have no confidence it would remain secret. I know the legal and practical limits of doctor/patient confidentiality, growing up in a house where we'd hear stories about the various mental illnesses of famous people, stories that were passed down through generations. All it takes is one doctor who thinks my story is interesting enough to share or a doctor who thinks it's her right or responsibility to contact the authorities and have me identify the molestor (justifying her decision by telling herself that someone else might be in danger). All it takes is a single doctor who violates my trust, just like the "friends" who I told I was gay did, and everything would be made public and I'd be forced to live in a world where people would know how fucked up I am. And yes, I realize this indicates that I have severe trust issues, but they're based on a large number of experiences with people who have shown a profound disrepect for their word and the privacy of others.

People say suicide is selfish. I think it's selfish to ask people to continue living painful and miserable lives, just so you possibly won't feel sad for a week or two. Suicide may be a permanent solution to a temporary problem, but it's also a permanent solution to a ~23 year-old problem that grows more intense and overwhelming every day.

Some people are just dealt bad hands in this life. I know many people have it worse than I do, and maybe I'm just not a strong person, but I really did try to deal with this. I've tried to deal with this every day for the last 23 years and I just can't fucking take it anymore.

I often wonder what life must be like for other people. People who can feel the love from others and give it back unadulterated, people who can experience sex as an intimate and joyous experience, people who can experience the colors and happenings of this world without constant misery. I wonder who I'd be if things had been different or if I were a stronger person. It sounds pretty great.

I'm prepared for death. I'm prepared for the pain and I am ready to no longer exist. Thanks to the strictness of New Jersey gun laws this will probably be much more painful than it needs to be, but what can you do. My only fear at this point is messing something up and surviving.

—-

I'd also like to address my family, if you can call them that. I despise everything they stand for and I truly hate them, in a non-emotional, dispassionate and what I believe is a healthy way. The world will be a better place when they're dead—one with less hatred and intolerance.

If you're unfamiliar with the situation, my parents are fundamentalist Christians who kicked me out of their house and cut me off financially when I was 19 because I refused to attend seven hours of church a week.

They live in a black and white reality they've constructed for themselves. They partition the world into good and evil and survive by hating everything they fear or misunderstand and calling it love. They don't understand that good and decent people exist all around us, "saved" or not, and that evil and cruel people occupy a large percentage of their church. They take advantage of people looking for hope by teaching them to practice the same hatred they practice.

A random example:

"I am personally convinced that if a Muslim truly believes and obeys the Koran, he will be a terrorist." - George Zeller, August 24, 2010.

If you choose to follow a religion where, for example, devout Catholics who are trying to be good people are all going to Hell but child molestors go to Heaven (as long as they were "saved" at some point), that's your choice, but it's fucked up. Maybe a God who operates by those rules does exist. If so, fuck Him.

Their church was always more important than the members of their family and they happily sacrificed whatever necessary in order to satisfy their contrived beliefs about who they should be.

I grew up in a house where love was proxied through a God I could never believe in. A house where the love of music with any sort of a beat was literally beaten out of me. A house full of hatred and intolerance, run by two people who were experts at appearing kind and warm when others were around. Parents who tell an eight year old that his grandmother is going to Hell because she's Catholic. Parents who claim not to be racist but then talk about the horrors of miscegenation. I could list hundreds of other examples, but it's tiring.

Since being kicked out, I've interacted with them in relatively normal ways. I talk to them on the phone like nothing happened. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I like pretending I have a family. Maybe I like having people I can talk to about what's been going on in my life. Whatever the reason, it's not real and it feels like a sham. I should have never allowed this reconnection to happen.

I wrote the above a while ago, and I do feel like that much of the time. At other times, though, I feel less hateful. I know my parents honestly believe the crap they believe in. I know that my mom, at least, loved me very much and tried her best. One reason I put this off for so long is because I know how much pain it will cause her. She has been sad since she found out I wasn't "saved", since she believes I'm going to Hell, which is not a sadness for which I am responsible. That was never going to change, and presumably she believes the state of my physical body is much less important than the state of my soul. Still, I cannot intellectually justify this decision, knowing how much it will hurt her. Maybe my ability to take my own life, knowing how much pain it will cause, shows that I am a monster who doesn't deserve to live. All I know is that I can't deal with this pain any longer and I'm am truly sorry I couldn't wait until my family and everyone I knew died so this could be done without hurting anyone. For years I've wished that I'd be hit by a bus or die while saving a baby from drowning so my death might be more acceptable, but I was never so lucky.

—-

To those of you who have shown me love, thank you for putting up with all my shittiness and moodiness and arbitrariness. I was never the person I wanted to be. Maybe without the darkness I would have been a better person, maybe not. I did try to be a good person, but I realize I never got very far.

I'm sorry for the pain this causes. I really do wish I had another option. I hope this letter explains why I needed to do this. If you can't understand this decision, I hope you can at least forgive me.

Bill Zeller

—-
Please save this letter and repost it if gets deleted. I don't want people to wonder why I did this. I disseminated it more widely than I might have otherwise because I'm worried that my family might try to restrict access to it. I don't mind if this letter is made public. In fact, I'd prefer it be made public to people being unable to read it and drawing their own conclusions.

Feel free to republish this letter, but only if it is reproduced in its entirety.

Thanks to Ella for reminding me to post on this and Gizmodo's Joel Johnson for publishing the letter

Read more at 1000 Memories. Here's the bio.

William Paul "Bill" Zeller (October 26, 1983 – January 5, 2011)[1] was an American computer programmer who was best known for creating the MyTunes application until his suicide in 2011. After his death, his suicide note[2] began circulating widely, launching a public discussion on the long-term ill effects of child abuse.
[edit] Education and career

A native of Middletown, Connecticut,[3] Zeller was pursuing a doctoral degree in computer science from Princeton, having earned his master's degree in 2008.[4] He received his bachelor's degree from Trinity College, Hartford in 2006.

His best-known software project was MyTunes, an enhancement for Apple's iTunes software that enables users to copy music between computers on a local network.[5] During his undergraduate years he also created Zempt, an enhancement for the popular Moveable Type blogging platform.[6] Zeller continued creating innovative software in graduate school. His most recent hit was Graph Your Inbox, an extension to the Chrome browser that allows GMail users to analyze patterns in their own email traffic.[7]

Zeller also served for more than two years as the computer science representative to Princeton's Graduate Student Government, advocating the interests of his fellow graduate students in housing, campus transportation, and other issues.[4]

He co-authored an influential paper, called "Government Data and the Invisible Hand"[8], that explained how governments can release public data in ways that will be useful to programmers. The paper has been influential both in academia and government.[9][10][11]
[edit] Death

Zeller posted a 4000 word suicide note on his website, explaining why he had decided to take his own life. He also emailed the letter to several friends. Zeller was found in his University apartment early on Sunday, January 2, 2011, by officials from Princeton University. As a result of the suicide attempt, he suffered brain damage due to oxygen deprivation, and was in a coma at University Medical Center at Princeton. He died following the withdrawal of life support, on the evening of January 5, 2011.[4][12]

One in 33 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes, according to the Rape, Assault, Incest National Network (RAINN). Survivors are four times more likely than others to consider suicide.

"We hear every day on our sexual assault hotline that this is the first time they have talked about this," said Jennifer Wilson Marsh, director of RAINN's National Sexual Assault Hotlines. "When someone is able to speak or type aloud or share the emotional narrative relating to the trauma, there is some distance and it takes it out of the darkness and into the light."

"It's less scary and less shameful and puts those feelings into perspective because it's so overwhelming," she said.

If you have been sexually abused, contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline by going online to their instant message format or call 1.800.656.HOPE for free and confidential help, 24/7.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT 







4EP28CR77ZDP

A Noose in a Black Man's Locker

The headline says, Black man suing FDNY for race discrimination finds noose in his locker

An FDNY electrician who filed a race discrimination complaint against the department in December says a noose was left in front of his work locker last week.

Gregory Seabrook, an FDNY communications electrician for nearly 20 years, found the noose Thursday at the FDNY facility at 87 Union St. in Brooklyn, his lawyers said yesterday.

Lovely. Nothing hurts more than this, an assault on a person's heritage, color. In fact, any assault upon our identity hurts. We work hard at being who we are, and take pride in who we are, those of us with self-esteem, and those of us who had an upbringing that emphasized the good in all of us.

This is why, in 1964, the United States passed the Civil Rights Bill, and included in the rights, Title VII, freedom from discrimination in the workplace. Included in the freedoms from discrimination were race, color, religion, national origin, and sex. The Southerners in Congress added sex hoping that Northerners would not vote for a bill that gave women the right to compete in the workforce, but it backfired.

Over the years, amendments were added to free us from discrimination over age and disability.

Forty-seven years, and still people find nooses in their lockers. The noose had a knot, they type used to flog slaves

And they wonder why we keep saying, more education, more education, more education.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

PornSunday the anti-porn video and the NFL

Craig Gross, the pastor of XXXchurch, a sex addictions program, is preaching to the world.  He's on his own stage on Superbowl Sunday.

And as a preacher, there's lots of talk about confession, biblical references.  Very much a

Jews and Muslims and anyone else who isn't Christian need not apply

video. I don't know what I expected.

But it's been recommended, highly (by me, actually) because quarterback Josh McCown, Eric Boles of the New York Jets, Matt Hasselbeck of the Seatle Seahawks, Miles McPherson of the San Diego Chargers, Jon Kitna, quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys,  all star in it.

And we love it when an athlete comes forward, speaks to people about relationship safety. Laced within Craig Gross' words is the message, You play. You pay.

So let's say you don't want to sit through a 35 minute video about coming clean with a sex addiction, but you want a review.

Three Steps to Sobriety:

(1) Confess to the Higher Power that you have zero self-control when it comes to looking at pornography. There may be a few reasons to do that, watch pornography, but in the process, whoever has posed for the films, the pictures, is exploited.  She/he is stolen.  And the person who objectifies is taken away from flesh and blood relationships. These are threatened, they are less exciting.  Nothing compares.

It is an addiction, an obsession.

So it's recommended, as it is in 12-Step programs, that a person somehow connect with spirituality.

A lot of people stop right here, which is why it's recommended (by therapists) to consider the next two steps. Perhaps these are more important.  Although if you can connect to the spiritual piece, no question, the support system, a community, will follow.

(2) Confess to someone. A real person. A spouse, rabbi, pastor, friend.  Maybe think of getting accountability software that shoots an email to him or her listing internet sites visited each day.  The software is for phones and other gadgets, too. The idea is that people who are addicted to pornography have a healthy sense of shame. Kudos to this idea.

(3) Clean up. Get involved in a sex addicts group, or a program at a house of worship, someplace in the community.  Easier said than done.  But it beats losing a marriage, a partner, someone who loves you but is tired of being second best.

We like the approach, love the attention to the problem, only wish it weren't so incredibly exclusive. But all that means, really, is that leaders of other religions, other groups, have to step up to the plate, develop their own support services. Forgive the pun.

We just have to get out of the dark ages with this one.

National PornSunday

Oh, you thought it was Super Bowl Sunday. And you're right. But this might be more interesting. Certainly as interesting.

Sex addictions are varied, but no question, pornography addiction takes over people's lives. It's not that hard to find a support group, depending upon where you live, but it is hard, sometimes, to connect with people and to commit. And the initial fear of humiliation keeps so many people away.

Sex Addicts Anonymous, that would be one group. Sex and Love Addictions would be another.

Because of the incredible disruption of an addiction, because needing to get on line, for example, to go there, to see a video, a picture, whatever it takes to satisfy the obsession, many people are starting to say No. People are trying to give it up, but it's hard.

Luckily we have leaders, heroes, really. NFL stars.

Take a look at this video sponsored by XXXchurch. If NFL stars can make the break, then finally, finally, it's cool to disavow pornography, to see it for what it is, degrading, humiliating, distracting, and like any addiction, an obsession that threatens a person's success in life and surely, intimate relationships.

National PornSunday Teaser from XXXchurch on Vimeo.

That's the teaser. You'll be able to see the whole video on Sunday at PornSunday.
Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Ben Roethlisberger Changing

Music to our ears that Ben Roethlisberger made peace with Terry Bradshaw. The elder quarterback didn't approve of Ben, thought the rape accusations against him egregious, unbelievably crass, proof of the younger quarterback's character deficits. The very idea that someone could do this, rape a woman in her early twenties, turned his stomach. Mr. Bradshaw has two daughters, one twenty-one, the other twenty-three.

Terry Bradshaw in his playing days.

Ben Roethlisberger has either found religion or he's in a 12-step group. Or maybe anger management. Or it could be that he's getting really good therapy. Either way, he charmed the media in Dallas and seems to have a new calm. He made peace with his old nemesis, Mr. Bradshaw in what was touted a media event. The two met alone in a locker room, however, before meeting with the press, had a heart to heart, and apparently hugged in the end.

If fans seek signs of progress, of maturity, then maybe this is a small one. Last summer Ben Roethlisberger wouldn’t shake Terry Bradshaw’s hand, too much anger getting in the way of reconciliation. Tuesday, the two Steelers legends ended their discussion with a hug.
“We just both came to the conclusion that we’re Steelers, we’re part of that family,” Bradshaw said. “And I encouraged him that yesterday is yesterday and that I have his back and I support him 100 percent.
“But if he screws up again … ”

What excited this therapist is the new language associated with Mr. Roethlisberger's change. He's becoming a role model.

You're reading me, sir, or someone is. Now make up with the young woman you hurt.

That's C.J. Johnson, Mississippi's top college football prospect.

Young Mr. Johnson, a formidable linebacker, makes the news because (a) he's switched his college pick from Mississippi State to Ole Miss, the University of Mississippi.

and (b) he's tired of being harassed on Facebook. He quit the social network.

A rumor started on Facebook that his mother worked as a domestic for Mississippi State, to the tune of 100 K a year. Mr. Johnson tells us that if that were true, he wouldn't be driving around in an old truck.

The price of fame is high, and Mr. Johnson is only beginning to feel it. He understands how important it is to challenge the rumor mill, to be a role model, and to say No to harassment.

Here's hoping, C. J., that you'll have a new car soon, and thanks for setting an example, tightening up your settings to the degree that no one can bother you under the cover, social networking.

Sexual Racism

Sounds ugly, and it is.

Once we thought that women of color were sexually harassed to the same degree as other women. We have come to learn that because they are often marginalized, less powerful, female minorities are harassed more and with greater severity.

More than the marginalization (lack of power in the workplace) of critical importance is having race/ethnicity and minority group status. Being a minority exerts unique and direct effects upon the likelihood of being sexually harassed or assaulted.

This is why it is called sexual racism. The punishment is sexual, and it is meted out due to race, more-so than gender. The inequalities of race and social class are sexualized in the workplace, and perhaps everywhere else as well, i.e., the family.

The roots reach back to times of slavery, when rape of black women wasn't something to argue about. Perhaps, sick as this sounds, white "masters" thought it welcomed. That and using sex as a way to maintain superiority, hammered in the status quo. Again, a way to hurt, to intimidate. Anything to make a group tremble.

So sexual harassment and assault is a way to hurt people you wanted to hurt anyway.

Audrey J. Murrell, in an early essay on sexual harassment and women of color, reminds us that stereotypes die hard. In the workplace minorities have always occupied powerless positions with unlikely opportunities to change jobs. Mothers, aunts, and the women in the community warned younger black women, for example, about the threat of sexual violence in the world. Even post-slavery, stereotypes persist about the black female as hyper-sexual, wild.

Asian women are still featured in pornography as submissive, tortured, wanting to serve.

Latina women are thought to be "hot-blooded" and passionate, yet submissive, for Latino men are dominating.

Sexual racism is how the stereotype is played out, how myths shape aggressive attitudes and sexual behavior.

Has any of this changed since the eighties when Ms. Murrell wrote her essay?

We can only hope so. But I am confident, based upon the stories women tell me, that sexual racism is alive and well. It is still rationalized by perpetrators and isn't outed or confronted by victims, not nearly enough, for fear of losing employment that is hard to come by.

So nothing new, not really, under the sun.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT

Women in Sports

We just have to share this one, that University of Connecticut's women's basketball team won 90 straight games before Stanford broke the streak. Ninety games, however, is amazing. The Huskie's coach, Geno Auriemma, is surely a hero, and this is the best college team performance since John Wooden led his UCLA team forty years ago.

And what kind of news coverage did they get? Two lines on ESPN. And a post by CNBC.COM's Darren Rovell.

Mr. Rovell explains the phenomena: Women's basketball is a different game, and the advertisers, those who drive the networks, recognize that we like watching men play a man's game, a lot more.

The reason why a second tier bowl game was on ESPN and the Huskies were on ESPN2 on Tuesday is not because the women didn't deserve to be on the mothership, it's because more people were going to watch Louisville and Southern Miss in the Beef O' Brady's Bowl. And they did—twice as many people watched the bowl game.

The NFL doesn't have billions of dollars in television deals because their players are strong men. It's because more people watch and the advertising is worth more, so the networks pay more in upfront rights fees.

Which is all good, fine, but as Mr. Rovell suggests, give credit where credit is due. These female athletes are spectacular and should be in the sports limelight.

We need them in the limelight because women (and men) need to participate more, watch less. If we admire female athletes, maybe we'll do that, get out and bounce the ball.

Women of all ages worry about body image, and obesity is something many will tell you they fight their entire lives. Self-esteem hinges for so many of us, on looks. Doctors are always telling us to exercise, but the truth is that most of us get into the habit when we're young, develop our skills as children. We don't have to become stars, but if playing competitively becomes valued for women, more of us will simply want to play for fun.

Just learning the rules, putting together pickup games, enjoying the play should be something women value, too. Get away from the computer, get out and play.

So thank you, the women at UCONN, for giving it your all, proving that sports for women is not only normal, it is wonderful.

Linda Freedman, PhD, LCSW, LMFT