No Secrets No Lies: How Black Families Can Heal from Sexual Abuse

Overview

Two years ago, Robin Stone wrote an article for Essence magazine revealing the sexual abuse that had haunted her journey from childhood to womanhood. Response to the article was tremendous, and many readers asked her for guidance in coping with their own similar experiences. For the estimated 3.2 million African-American survivors of sexual abuse, No Secrets No Lies provides much needed healing.

Addressing sexual violence from the perspective ...

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No Secrets No Lies: How Black Families Can Heal from Sexual Abuse

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Overview

Two years ago, Robin Stone wrote an article for Essence magazine revealing the sexual abuse that had haunted her journey from childhood to womanhood. Response to the article was tremendous, and many readers asked her for guidance in coping with their own similar experiences. For the estimated 3.2 million African-American survivors of sexual abuse, No Secrets No Lies provides much needed healing.

Addressing sexual violence from the perspective of black culture, Stone helps readers understand why the silence of this epidemic may be rooted in racism, and how readers can give themselves permission to reach out for help. No Secrets No Lies combines the advice of physicians, psychologists, spiritual leaders, and abuse survivors to break through the social barriers that have perpetuated the pain for decades.

One in four women and one in six men will experience sexual violence, and according to the Department of Justice, the numbers are only rising. By providing empowering answers to the casualties of this crisis, No Secrets No Lies is a long overdue lifeline.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Expanding on an article she wrote for Essence, where she is a former executive editor, Stone advocates many standard methods for recognizing and coping with abuse. But while the rates of sexual victimization, Stone shows, are the same for blacks and whites, "Black American women were more likely to have withheld reports of attempted rape from authorities" and "were more likely to blame their living circumstances" for an attack. It is Stone's detailed discussion of the probable reasons for such disparities, and her insights into them, that make this book unique. Drawing on her own experience, she argues that the "splitting" or dissociation used by the black community during slavery in order to cope psychologically with lifetimes of abuse is the same technique many African-Americans now use to deal with everyday racism and with sexual abuse. Stereotypes of African-American hypersexuality and of African-American women's mythic "strength" add further complications, which Stone unpacks with unflinching care and with the help of stories of abuse she has collected from black women. Chapters on "Helping Boys and Men" and "Challenging Abusers" offer more techniques for conversation and confrontation, and the book ends with "Reconciliation...and Moving On" and an appendix of resources. Stone's understanding of, and empathy for, incredibly painful situations comes through on every page, and her techniques for beginning to deal with them are compassionate and straightforward. Agent, Sarah Lazin. (Apr.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
From the Publisher
“Robin Stone's NO SECRETS, NO LIES is an honest and illuminating look at the soul-shattering effects of sexual abuse. She guides the reader through the shame, denial and devastation of sexual violence–and on the journey toward healing. Stone’s courage in facing her own painful experience helps break the silence in the African-American community and move Black women and men toward understanding and recovery. This book is our needed gift.”
--Susan L. Taylor, Editorial Director, Essence magazine

"Inspiring and empowering, Robin Stone's NO SECRETS, NO LIES fills a critical gap in the literature on surviving and healing from child sexual abuse. Robin's vivid, insightful narratives reflect the struggles and resilience of a community that has been difficult for many activists and professionals to reach. This excellent book is long overdue."
-- Laura Davis, author of The Courage to Heal and I Thought We'd Never Speak Again

“Powerful, positive, and right on time, Robin Stone's NO SECRETS, NO LIES demystifies sexual abuse in the Black community and empowers survivors. A must read for anyone who cares about the health of their family and of children everywhere.”
-- Farai Chideya, author of The Color of Our Future and Don't Believe the Hype

“NO SECRETS, NO LIES courageously breaks the silence about sexual abuse within the black community. Robin Stone makes a major contribution to the well being of black children and families. This important book should be widely read and discussed.”
-- Alvin F. Poussaint, MD, Professor of Psychiatry, Harvard Medical School and Judge Baker Children's Center

“In NO SECRETS, NO LIES Robin D. Stone provides invaluable insights and tools for both families and mental health professionals to address the ever-present problem of sexual abuse that has been hidden too long.”
-- Kim Singleton, Ed.D., Clinical Psychologist, and author of Broken Silence

“NO SECRET, NO LIES presents an empowering and healing approach to childhood sexual abuse from a culturally relevant perspective.  It provides insight into dysfunctional family dynamics and abuse patterns from the view of victims and perpetrators.  Without pathologizing victimization, Robin D. Stone systematically fosters the development of ego strength and survival strategies. Every psychologist and therapist should use NO SECRET, NO LIES as an invaluable guide and resource with clients who have experienced sexual trauma.”
-- Darlene Powell-Garlington, Ph.D., Clinical Psychologist and author of Different and Wonderful: Raising Black Children in A Race  Conscious Society  

From the Hardcover edition.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780767913447
  • Publisher: Broadway Books
  • Publication date: 3/30/2004
  • Pages: 256
  • Product dimensions: 6.40 (w) x 9.55 (h) x 0.98 (d)

Meet the Author

ROBIN D. STONE is a former Executive Editor of Essence magazine and the founding Editor-in-Chief of Essence.com. She was also an editor for the New York Times, the Boston Globe, the Detroit Free Press, and Family Circle, and has written for numerous publications, including Essence and Glamour. As a 2002-03 Kaiser Media Fellow, she researched the impact of sexual abuse, with a focus on Black families. A Detroit native, she lives in New York City with her husband and their son.
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Read an Excerpt

No Secrets No Lies

How Black Families Can Heal from Sexual Abuse
By Robin Stone

Broadway

Copyright © 2004 Robin D. Stone
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-7679-1344-2


Introduction

If only this book weren't needed. But chances are that if you are reading it, you are seeking to help yourself or someone you love to heal from childhood sexual abuse. Know that you are not alone: an estimated one in four women and one in six men report that they were sexually abused as children.

I am among those survivors. For years I was also among the many who live in the shadows of silence and shame. Sexual abuse is a tough subject for most anyone to discuss, but it is especially difficult for those who have experienced it to expose long-buried wounds. For me, doing so took years of healing work, and in the end, it helped me see and understand not only the devastation of sexual violation, but also the damage of the silence, secrets, and denial that often follow.

Today, I am healthy and happy and whole. I have a husband and son whom I love dearly, family and friends whom I cherish, a spiritual center that keeps me grounded and helps me soar, a satisfying professional life, and meaningful connections with my community. But it wasn't easy to get there. Here's how I found my way.

I had been deputy editor of Essence magazine for about a year when, in 1998, our senior editorial team went on a retreat in upstate New York. The editor in chief at the time, Susan Taylor, had invited a motivational expert along to help us brainstorm for new article ideas.

Here we were, at the nation's leading magazine for Black women, gathered to find new ways to empower our readers. The expert started by asking each of us to draw two pictures-one as we saw ourselves, and the other as we'd like to see ourselves. When it was my turn, I held up my intricate handiwork: a harried-looking stick figure with disheveled hair struggling to balance two baskets of eggs, with some eggs spilling and others a cracked mess on the floor.

It was a reflection of my life as a wife and new mother, with a fairly new job and responsibilities as a new executive board member of a national nonprofit organization-or so I thought. As I showed my second drawing, a serene, smiling sister, hair in place, calmly holding only one basket of neatly nestled eggs, I described my ideal life: less stress, fewer eggs, fewer demands. More time for me. And I added, offhandedly, that I hate dropping my eggs because I'm such a perfectionist. It stemmed, I said, from a memory of a relative telling me, when I eagerly showed of my report card with all A's and B's, "You still ain't shit." "I've been trying to prove them wrong ever since," I said.

I suddenly remembered how those words only confirmed what I had long felt: that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make up for a nagging sense of inadequacy. And quietly, to my surprise, I began to cry. At first, those tears annoyed me. I'm a leader, I remember thinking. Leaders don't break down and cry in front of their colleagues. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the first "me" drawing was a reflection of how I'd always lived: deeply immersed in everything-whether family or my work or my sorority or some other organization. I was always doing something to keep from holding still. I felt as if I was a voyeur in what seemed to be a perfect life, and I was tired of working so hard to avoid what really ailed me.

What I thought really ailed me was a severe lack of confidence. It became even more pronounced whenever I took on a major challenge, and at the time of that retreat, several major challenges were converging. Despite a stellar resume listing major accomplishments at some of the nation's best newspapers and magazines, despite successfully running a nonprofit organization, despite a new husband and baby, I always felt I was perpetrating a fraud, that I didn't deserve the achievements or even the joy in my life. At home, I would rarely relax, and work was all-encompassing. I would go in early, stay late, skip lunch, hover over my computer for so long that my neck and shoulders ached. I rarely gave myself credit for being smart and creative and passionate, for thinking fast and leading and always striving to do the right thing. That lack of confidence was my Achilles' heel, and that relative's remark had kept it tender over the years. From time to time I would try to shore it up by working on the symptoms but not the disease. Assertiveness-training courses, public-speaking courses, management courses, skills-development workshops, leadership seminars, you name it. I polished my presentations and buffed my skills to the point where I seemed to brim with confidence. But I couldn't shake those feelings of not measuring up.

All along, I knew that what really ailed me was a profound sense of shame and embarrassment that had been a part of my life for years. I'd often think: There's something wrong with me, and I have to make up for it. There must be something wrong, because he chose me.

I was a precocious kid in the early 1970s, the older of two girls raised by a single mother in a working-class section of northwest Detroit. Mom somehow found the time and money from her job at the post office to allow my sister and me to enjoy dance lessons and Saturday bowling and summertime softball. I loved writing and dancing and singing in the school chorus. Family reunions would find me front and center in our all-kid talent revues.

Children were abundant in our sprawling but tight-knit clan; cousins often spent the night at one house or another. Mom never thought for a moment that her kids wouldn't be safe.

When I was about nine, my sister and I slept over with family in the country. There, an uncle whom I adored led me by the hand to a back room and rubbed my breasts and between my legs. The incident, as I now refer to it, lasted about five minutes. But it left an impact that I still contend with today.

Messin' with. Touching. Fondling. Groping. Molesting. Incest. Abuse. Assault. Rape. I did not know the words for what happened to me that night with my uncle as the rest of the family slept. Often when we think of being sexually attacked, we see the culprit as someone who pounces from the bushes, not someone who tucks us in. We think of broken bones, or scars, or blood. If there is no visible, physical injury, it can be difficult to see that a deliberate crossing of the boundaries of appropriate behavior is indeed a form of violence.

All I knew is that when my uncle touched me, it didn't feel right. I also knew, literally knew, that what had happened was wrong when he told me not to tell. If nobody could know, it must have been bad. And by extension, I thought, I must have been bad. With the offer of a few dollars, my uncle told me to keep it a secret. I didn't take the money, but I made his secret mine and carried it for more than ten years. My mother became severely ill not too long after I was molested, and as she spent months on a slow, painful process of recovery, I tried in my child's way to take care of the trauma that I had suffered so that I wouldn't burden her. I would attend family gatherings and carefully avoid my uncle, fighting the waves of embarrassment whenever he would try to strike up a conversation with me as if nothing had ever happened. Many holiday get-togethers are a blur to me today; my time at them was consumed not with enjoying my family but with a vigilant act of keeping a safe distance from the enemy-my uncle-while watching to make sure he didn't take my younger sister off into some room.

I was confused and ashamed, and I felt isolated and alone, as no one else seemed to notice my distress.

I learned to take care of myself, but I wasn't always my best ally. I reasoned that I should never do anything to invite attention because I might be "chosen" again. So I became quiet and withdrawn. The girl who once sang on the stage and danced and laughed began to hide in the shadow of a hideous secret. I even hid in plain view: One summer I wore a red windbreaker nearly every day to cover up my growing breasts. I became a model student, striving for perfection to make up for my perceived imperfections. My little girl's mind told me that my uncle had picked me because he knew I was stupid enough to go along with him. I repeated that to myself so much that it rang true.

For years that secret weighed me down. I remember believing that I had done something to deserve what happened, and even as I wrestled with the meaning of what had happened, I sometimes managed to convince myself that it was really no big deal. It only happened once, I'd say to myself, minimizing the experience. I now know why sometimes we are reluctant to see an assault that's sexual in nature as violence. The majority of sexual abuse survivors know their offenders, and abusers operate so smoothly and convincingly that they gain the trust of children without the use of force. And as so many survivors do, I allowed my life to be shaped by a secret that wasn't mine to bear.

If I had known that my uncle had no right to touch me and that I could tell on him, then I might have yelled or screamed that night. If I had known then that our society and our own Black culture conspire to keep children quiet and vulnerable and Black women quiet and exploited, I would have been able to throw his secret back in his face. If I had known how we as a people are still struggling with the crippling effects of slavery and racism, I would have understood that my family's silence after the secret came out was nothing personal. It was inspired by years of fear and oppression and passed on from one generation to the next.

But I didn't have a clue. There were unspoken rules in my family and "around the way"-rules I learned from watching others around me. I knew to respect, not question or challenge my elders. I knew that some stuff you just didn't air in mixed company. I knew that breasts and hips were acceptable objects for commentary, especially from boys and men. I was self-conscious about my newly forming curves. Maybe I'd asked for that uncle's attention by wearing my favorite short shorts, I reasoned. Maybe I'd tempted him by sitting on his lap. What's a nine-year-old to think? For that matter, what's a three-year-old or a sixteen-year-old to think when someone she loves, respects, trusts, and perhaps even fears uses those feelings against her?

You may find it difficult to understand how five minutes can forever affect the course of a life. Or you may see yourself in some part of my story. Those who have been sexually abused know all too well the residue of shame and helplessness that the experience leaves behind. Few of us can imagine the complex network of scars that sexual abuse can create-whether it is one touch or a number of intricate "games" or years of intercourse. For me, I only knew that I needed teachers and family and friends to tell me I was smart and make me feel that I mattered. And whenever I had the nerve to think so myself, that nine-year-old girl would emerge to remind me to think again.

When I was twenty-one and preparing to move to Boston and brave the world on my own, I finally told my mother and stepfather after they gently encouraged me to explain why I refused to go to my uncle's house for my own going-away party. My mother was supportive and calm, at least in front of me. She called her sister, my aunt, to share what I had told her. The uncle, of course, said I was lying. My parents were left to choose whom to believe. They chose me. After some heated exchanges, my mother told a few other people in the family, and that uncle was told not to come around whenever I would be present. Mothers quietly asked their daughters if the uncle had ever "bothered" them. No one else said he did. No one spoke to me again about what had happened, and whenever the family gathered after that, my uncle simply was not there.

I was so relieved that the secret was out, but I didn't realize until later the damage I suffered. The abuse, the silence, and the survival skills I learned as a result played a major role in shaping my personality and my habits today. Without professional help back then, I dealt with the repercussions on my own. I grew up with few girlfriends because I felt "different" and older than most kids my age, and I found it difficult to open up and trust. It was easier to spend time with boys, and later men, because responding to physical attraction was easier than developing and nurturing relationships. Sex with no commitment was OK, I reasoned in my younger, single years, because I was in control of whom I slept with. In reality, I was being used and robbed of pieces of myself. And all the while, whenever I found the time to be still, I'd feel the unsettling sense of shame creeping upon me. Keeping busy kept it at bay. For a long time I knew there was something wrong, but again, I focused on the symptoms and not the cause.

One time, about ten years ago, I tried to fix the symptoms. Citing stress and anxiety, I went to see a therapist I picked out of my insurance company's directory. We never got to the abuse. Whenever I talked about anything related to race, the therapist, who was White, would stare at me blankly. I remember telling her how painful it was to hear a White male newspaper colleague tell me that my ignorance of an obscure grammatical rule was the result of poor education. I should have been angry, yet I thought of my public schooling and heard that nine-year-old's voice say, See? I told you you were stupid, and I went home feeling defeated not by him but by myself. The therapist could offer nothing to counter my sense of humiliation, obviously not sensitive to the struggles of Blacks in White corporate America. I didn't stick around for long.

That day at the retreat, when the facilitator encouraged us to talk about our stress, I looked into the faces of my colleagues, Black women of all hues and shapes and sizes, and saw in their eyes that they understood just what it meant to work too hard, to juggle too much, to stretch too thin in search of perfection. In the cocoon of that sister circle, I felt comfortable enough to let my guard down, and the tears came from years of being tired and ashamed. Another sister cried too. Susan Taylor put her arm around my shoulder and reminded me, "We're so glad you're with us-you bring us so much." It was a compliment that I allowed myself to believe. Later I asked a coworker to recommend a good Black therapist for me to see.

It took twenty-five years for me to understand how five minutes of horror, in the shadow of a relative's house, could affect my life so deeply. I found a new therapist, a Black woman who understood my experience with corporate racism and who made me feel as if I was talking to a friend. With her help, I started to unravel the secret and feelings of shame and self-doubt from my life.

As I began to heal, I searched everywhere for information about abuse within families-Black families in particular.

Continues...


Excerpted from No Secrets No Lies by Robin Stone Copyright © 2004 by Robin D. Stone. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 6, 2005

    excellent resource

    Review of No Secrets, No Lies: How Black Families Can Heal From Sexual Abuse by Robin D. Stone, 2004, Broadway Books, NY. Hardcover ISBN 0- 7679-1344-2 I chose to review this book to gain a cultural perspective on the subject of sexual abuse. It was recommended to me by a reader of my book (Beyond the Tears: A True Survivor¿s Story) as study material for my Project for TEARS: Telling Everyone About Rape & Sexual Assault. I borrowed No Secrets, No Lies from the public library. The author of No Secrets, No Lies is a survivor of sexual assault. She has been an editor for Essence magazine, The New York Times, the Boston Globe, the Detroit Free Press, and Family Circle. She also teaches journalism at New York University. This impressive writing experience is evident in her clear, concise, compassionate, and culturally enlightening work: No Secrets, No Lies. Throughout the book, Stone offers ¿Fast Facts¿ in the margin, adding relevant material to the readers¿ knowledge. For example, Stone states, ¿Blacks are sexually victimized in childhood at the same rate as Whites. In one survey, they reported being more severely abused with greater force.¿ Stone cites her sources in an extensive ¿notes¿ section. She also offers a valuable resource list and index. The title of the first chapter is: ¿Was It Sexual Abuse?¿ Stone writes, ¿For many of us, we have buried sexual abuse so deep into our psyches that we would never connect it to today¿s physical illnesses and pain, our depression or addiction, our inability to hold a job, get out of debt, find satisfaction in a relationship, nurture our children, or simply say no to people or situations that do us harm.¿ Indeed. No matter the gender, race, religion, socio-economic class, or ethnicity, victims of sexual abuse will experience the devastating ramifications. Victims suffer initially with the abuse, then again with each result that limits our human potential. Stone tells the reader: ¿in addition to the trauma of sexual violation, survivors must also deal with the trauma of being born and raised in a racist and sexist culture.¿ And therein lies the roots of our troubled society. Stone offers case examples in each chapter. We read about Kim, who says, ¿I¿m always afraid that people will leave if they see the real me.¿ The ¿real me¿ is the child who was molested by her stepfather until she was nineteen even as a young woman, he slapped her for resisting. Kim¿s mother kicked Kim out of the house, leaving Kim to fend for herself with friends. Kim learns that a relative had sexually abused her mother. This addresses the frightening fact that perpetration is all too often generational. The author incorporates the limitations placed upon Black survivors. ¿When Blacks seek help from White institutions [they] find little sympathy or understanding.¿ ¿Blacks [have] a deep mistrust of a majority White medical profession. Blacks have been slow to embrace traditional therapy.¿ ¿We often find ourselves sitting across from a counselor who hasn¿t a clue about the complexities of our culture, our history, and our challenges, and who can only see our problems solely from a White or middle-class perspective.¿ However, Stone encourages counseling: ¿We have historically turned to our own support systems¿sister circles¿but for many of us the problems associated with being sexually abused run far too deep for untrained experts to help us tackle them in a meaningful way.¿ Stone tells the reader: ¿¿experts have developed multicultural approaches to therapy that incorporate the values, customs, and traditions of non-Whites.¿ In chapter four, Stone suggests methods to finding ¿African-Centered Healing.¿ Stone uses a statement from Rhonda Wells-Wilbon, a social work professor and sexual assault survivor, to define ¿African-Centered¿ as: ¿using Africa as a

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 29, 2004

    PLEASE READ IF YOU'VE BEEN ABUSED OR RAPED!

    BEFORE I WAS EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THIS WONDERFUL BOOK, IT GAVE ME ALOT OF UNDERSTANDING ABOUT HOW MY FAMILY, ESPECIALLY MY MOTHER HANDLED MY SITUATION. IT DIDN'T MAKE IT RIGHT BUT AT LEAST NOW I UNDERSTAND THAT I WAS NOT THE ONLY CHILD THAT HAD TO DEAL WITH DENIAL BY A PARENT. THIS SISTER KEPT IT REAL WITH HER BOOK AND BEACUSE SHE KEPT IT REAL, I AM ON THE PATH TO HEAL.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 13, 2004

    Robin Stone EXPOSES THE REAL TRUTH, ATLAST

    I was not aware that so much sexual abuse is happening in our society on innocent children. This book gives details as to how survival can occur as well as countless resources for healing such as therapists and other sources throughout the USA. It is definitely for anyone who has suffered the atrocity of abuse or incest. But it also serves out the point that an abuser should be reported and arrested regardless of who it is. Women also need to watch their daughters (and sons )carefully when they have men in the house bcause these type of creatures and sexual pretators are sick that commit the horrific sexual attacks on innocent children.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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