There was a group of us all forced to have sex with each other as children. All who grew into adults we wouldn’t have grown into if we hadn’t been forced to become weapons against each other.
I love you. I will always love you Angel, Little Man, Bruce, Mark, Adam, to all of you, I fucking love you, that will never change. Brandon, Doug, Christina, Chantelle, Angel, (girl) to all of you who stood beside me in the darkest periods of my life, you are my family. Carey, Chris, Daniel, Bill, Jason and even Andrew some days. You are a part of my journey, and that will never change.
There were men in this city who did very terrible things, to innocent children, who forced us to do things we wouldn’t have done on our own, if we’d been given a choice.
They beat us into submission, and then beat us again so badly that we were forced to forget in order to survive. It wasn’t our fault. We were victims, and now we are survivors.
We have a responsibility to come back together one day, so that we can share our story with the world in order to make sure that it never happens again, and one day, we will.
I needed to say that, out loud over and over and over again before I was able to write it, because for so long I had to convince myself I was alone. It was the only way I could deal with the sheer enormity of all the terrible things that were done to us.
I had to get selfish for awhile and pretend that it was just me, but if those people I named above hadn’t come together, I wouldn’t be alive today.
They called it The Family Game, and in the shadows of the night when the adult men would leave us alone we promised each other we’d never do this to other kids. We would never become like them.
Some of these people became gangsters, others took their lives, there are too many to name, too many that I’ve forgotten over the years. More than I could possibly remember on my own, but we were never alone.
This website is the result of trying to remember what was done to us, of trying to remember that I am not alone. This website is dedicated to the men and women who came together to help me tell my story, because without them I wouldn’t be here.
Nothing that was done to us is okay, the details are grotesque, disturbing and beyond what the word “Evil” can describe, and yet here I am still sharing my story.
I’ve been called a goof, a rat and much worse for sharing these stories “outside the family,” but the truth is anyone with the guts to call ME a Goof doesn’t have a fucking clue about what we went through. So their opinion doesn’t matter to me.
Over the years I fell in love with a boy named Angel, and we never got our time….we never got the chance to see what could have happened between us, because he was used as a weapon against me…the only BROWN girl in the group, by a man who decided my life was less important…because I am brown.
I can’t help that I was born brown, but Angel became the kind of man I always knew he would be, always there in the darkest nights, a quiet whisper on the phone when I needed someone to talk to these last few months. Angel became one of my best friends in the last few months, in ways I never thought possible.
He gave me a person to talk to, a person to hold my pain when it was too much too contain…so did Mark, and Michael for that matter.
These men who were trained to be abusers became kind hearted generous gentlemen, despite what they were trained to believe they deserved to be, by men who should have known better.
Not all men will hurt you, and sometimes those who do will do their best to fix the damage they’ve caused. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love these men, how much it hurts that they are not an active part of my life right now, and how grateful I am they have given me the space that I’ve needed so that I could start the healing process.
I’ve done none of this healing alone. It was men who broke me apart and men who brought me back together again.
Women who stood by and watched, but there to offer support when I needed it, wonder how I can love these men so easily, and my answer is always the same, “they were there in the dark times.”
If you want to know who to blame for what happened to us, my suggestion would be to start with Doctor Golden and work your way out from there. He’s the worst of the worst, a man we should have trusted, who hypnotized us to believe that we were only good for being used as weapons of sexual desire to the lowest most disgusting kind of human.
Yet here we are, all in our own little corners of the world still fighting to survive, still fighting to get through the darkness until we can be together again.
The Family Game was designed to destroy us, and in the end I hope and pray it will bring us only stronger together, united against the child pornography industry.
Sending all my love to the boys tonight,
Devon J Hall