Friday, 30 May 2014

Losing the Hate: Forward (Written by Claudia B. Modie)




FORWARD BY CLAUDIA B. MODIE
(AUTHOR OF HYBRID)


As a mother of three boys, I have experienced the impulse to lull myself into a false sense of security with regards to sexual abuse.  After all, it's girls who are most at risk right? 
Statistically this appears to be the case; however, since boys are less likely to tell, these statistics are somewhat skewed and far from reliable.
The sad fact is our children, regardless of sex, are being exploited.  It happens in our places of worship, our schools, and most disturbingly in our very own homes.
No amount of money, physical location or parental vigilance for that matter, can shield us from the predators lurking in the human jungle.  These hunters are not motivated by survival; they prey on our children merely to satisfy their own perversions.  And until we declare open season on these vile sub-humans, our children will remain at risk.  
I came across Losing the Hate on a website, which enables writers’ to critique one another.  As is common, I planned on reading a few chapters, making my comments, and moving on.  Instead, I read it in one afternoon.
Never having experienced such an emotional reaction to a book, my need to reach out to the author became a compulsion, and I acted on my instincts.    We became fast friends, and despite his living in England and my residing in America, not a day has passed since without our speaking. The Atlantic has only managed to separate us in a physical sense.
I only mention this because, other than the seven years it took Sye to write Losing the Hate, I have been privileged to share his journey in the evolution of this work.
There have been many frustrations on the road to getting the book to its present state, primarily because it is difficult for Sye to re-visit the horrific events of his past, but there have also been other emotional issues to contend with. 
Not long before publication, Sye received a critique in which another author accused him of having "enjoyed" his abuse, even going on to say, "he was just afraid to admit it." These comments were made by a woman who wrote a memoir on her experiences with incest.  And although her words were hurtful and ignorant, they did serve to clarify the importance of bringing this book to print.
If these attitudes are so deeply ingrained that even victims of sexual abuse "blame the victim," belittling their suffering based on gender, only serves to perpetuate continued abuse.
In fact, we may inadvertently be placing our male children at greater risk by making them a more appealing target.  Especially when the likelihood of being found out is lessened by the stigma attached to admission.


We have to allow boys to feel they will be equally supported in these appalling circumstances.
Men must be encouraged to speak out without being accused of "enjoying it," or for fear of being falsely labelled homosexual.

I am extremely proud of Sye for having the courage to make Losing the Hate public. 


To continue reading please click on the links below:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Losing-the-Hate-ebook/dp/B004BDOV0M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366466148&sr=8-1&keywords=losing+the+hate


http://www.amazon.com/Losing-the-Hate-ebook/dp/B004BDOV0M/ref=sr_1_2_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374466131&sr=1-2


Monday, 25 November 2013

An e-Book by Simon Palmer

Losing the Hate by Simon Palmer; a true account of how child abuse changes a person and destroys entire families. 
Read how - at the age of ten years old - my entire world plunged into the dank cellars of hell, at the hands of my school teacher.

You can download Losing the Hate at amazon, (links below), for just £0.98 / $0.99, or if you prefer, order the paperback via amazon, or pick it up from all major outlets in the High Street.

UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Losing-the-Hate-ebook/dp/B004BDOV0M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366466148&sr=8-1&keywords=losing+the+hate

US
http://www.amazon.com/Losing-the-Hate-ebook/dp/B004BDOV0M/ref=sr_1_2_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374466131&sr=1-2

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Selling My Soul

The last thing I had expected was to put myself in yet another precarious position.  But I wasn't a young lad anymore, I was now close to Ropeman in size, and he was far too physically unfit to actually threaten me. Besides, in my mind, I was a thug, a real tough guy, so I hadn't counted on reverting back to being a ten year old in his presence, but that's exactly what happened. Insecurities flooded my mind as the memories mercilessly taunted me. It was almost impossible for me to look at the man's face; but the die had been cast.  And for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to call it off.  It seems incomprehensible now, but I still wanted that damn tattoo, eventually selling my soul to the devil to get it.

The events resulting from my actions that day are among my most difficult memories to deal with. For the large part because it was my own doing, I have no excuses, and I could not offer up an explanation if I tried. 

I instigated it, and that shame will follow me to the grave.

There are times when my heart is riddled with hatred and utter contempt, when I want to strike out and get my revenge. I crave that retribution, and pity myself for the lack thereof.  But there have also been many dark, very drunken nights when I detest the face staring back at me from the mirror, knowing, that at least in my view, the reflection is not completely innocent.
 
US Link
 
UK Link
 

Wednesday, 5 September 2012

The Second Visit (Sensitive Content)


I hadn’t made any arrangements for the following day, and as I took the short walk from my front door to Stuart and Karen’s house, the apprehension that swept over me was almost suffocating, as was the fear that violently churned in the pit of my stomach.
Sleep had, surprisingly, greeted me fairly quickly the night before; my mind had not yet fully digested what had happened. But as I neared the destination, inching my way forward, my head became awash with the frightening details of the encounters I'd had over the last couple of years.
The photo sessions with Ropeman, the sexual contact Stu had subjected me to; I began to wonder if it was all part and parcel of normal adult life. But mostly, I was scared of them.  Afraid that if I didn't show up, one of them would say something to my parents about what had taken place.  And truth be told, I was terrified.  Stu frightened me more than anyone I'd ever met.
Karen opened the door and gave me a warm smile. It wasn’t the sickly smile of Ropeman, nor was it the twisted grin I’d seen on Stu’s face the previous day, but I still felt an almost irrepressible urge to smack the smile clean off her face. She was evil; not nearly as intimidating as Stu, but evil just the same.
I walked past her and strutted into the lounge, my blond spikes erupting from my skull in all their glory. “Alright Stu.” he looked up from his paper, his bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and for the first time I noticed just how scarred his face actually was.
Karen came up behind me, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and “Don't I get a kiss then"?
I didn’t know where to look, much less what to say. I’m not sure if it was visible, but my whole body felt as though it was physically shaking. I tried to make a joke of it and simply kissed her on the cheek, quickly rubbing my lips with the back of my hand and pretending to be sick, mimicking the actions of a four or five year old child.
After sitting on the sofa, I asked Stuart if it was okay to turn on the CB, which was on a small table between where I was sitting and his armchair. “Leave it off for the minute,” he replied, “maybe we’ll put it on after a cuppa.”
Before I could do or say anything else he told me to stand in front of him, telling me I was wearing my studded belt all wrong. I did as was asked, and he began rubbing my crutch.

UK Link

US Link