Story – The Pinocchio

Image by Ernie Stephens from Pixabay

1967

From My Daughter’s Eyes and Other Stories … “Once upon a time in the Bronx, Rosa, who was six, and Mimi, who was five, lived with their grandmother, La Guela, after losing their parents in an auto accident while traveling from Puerto Plata to Santo Domingo.  

 La Guela lived in a three-bedroom apartment that had previously been rented by her daughter and son in law.    She supported herself by sewing and rented one of her rooms to, Luis Felipe, a mature young doctor who had recently arrived from the Dominican Republic.   He came to la Guela through a respected source, a friend of a relative and worked in a nearby local hospital.  His family remained in Santiago, but was soon to join them in the Bronx.  La Guela felt safer with a man in the house, given the deteriorating conditions of the neighborhood.  –

One day after school, Luis Felipe came quietly into the girl’s bedroom.  They lived in an L shaped apartment and so the bedroom was far away from the kitchen were La Guela was cookinggarbanzos criollos, a chickpea stew with white rice, together with tostonesand salad.

“Hola,” he said, but the girls ignored him, their little tummies now yearning for the chickpea stew they could smell in the distance.

“Hola,” he repeated.

“Hello,” they responded as they jumped on their bed, their arms locked for support and balance.   Their thin summer dresses billowed up every time they jumped, revealed their white cotton panties, a little oversized and sagging at the bottom.   They noticed how he focused on them, how his eyes glowed at the sight of their little skinny legs, so they jumped higher, until they noticed that he carried a pretty gift bag, probably a present for them.   So they stopped jumping.

“What’s that?” Rosa asked.

“Gifts,” he said “One for my dark Virgin,” looking at Rosa, her mass of full, spiraling, curly hair sloppily cascading across her face.   “And one for my light skin Virgin,” he looked at Mimi with her light skin, hazel eyes and light brown silky hair.

“Can we see it?” Mimi asked.

“Well, well, well,” he said hiding the presents behind his back.  “First, we must play a special game, and then you may get your wonderful gift.”

The girls looked at him, anxious to comply.

“But, can we at least see it?” Rosa asked, she was older, and bolder and often wanted to make sure that whatever she did would be worth the effort

“Ok,” he said and took out a small dark Virgin figurine he’d bought in the local Botanica for Rosa, and then revealing a light skinned Virgin one for Mimi.   Mimi giggled at the sight of her pretty virgin with her blue dress and folded hands.  Rosa smiled quietly as she looked at her dark skin virgin who looked so much like her. The scent of the Frankincense from the local Botanica permeated the air as he placed the virgins back in their bags. 

“They smell sweet,” Rosa said smiling. “

Sexual Abuse as Taboo –

The story Behind the story

I started writing for healing when I was working as a the Director of a trauma center in Yonkers, every day children told me their stories of sexual abuse. I attended a conference on Vicarious Traumatization, how we as therapist can be impacted by the stories we hear, and what we can do about it. I was so happy to hear of many expressive methos of healing from what is now called “Compassion Fatigue” and that many of the forms were “expressive” in nature. I was already using many expressive arts forms with children, and for my own healing, so it came natural to me that I would begin to use creative writing as one of my healing tools, but I really did not know what I was doing or how to do it.

I went to the library and read every book on writing short stories, and then read every short story writer I could find. I did it alphabetically. My first short story was The Red Shoes and then the rest followed under the guidance of a writing group.

This story is in memory of the stories I heard from children’s lips and how sexual abuse is often often disregarded by the adults in children environment, particularly if the abuser is good, beautiful, famous, smart, professional or religious.

The story was also written in 1500 words so that I could read it in public. I knew that the issue of sexual abuse was a sensitive one, particularly with children. I have had people tell me children cannot be sexual abuse because they believe abuse is only sexual, and they don’t realize that children are raped, and forced, and touched, kissed, and used for sexual gratification via watching, touching, or taking photos. I knew I needed to do it sensitively, go in and out, because the topic is taboo. This particular story was often not allowed in colleges workshops by some professors because they did not want to address this issue. Publishers told me that I was putting children in sexually compromising positions and it would be a hard sell. Once when I read at Bronx Community College /CUNY, students read this story, and to my surprise were open about this discussion and shared their concerns openly without shame. I was so deeply proud of all of them and the faculty who had the courage to open discussion with them. Thank you to Prof. Pita and Prof. Melissa Coss Aquino and others who share my work with students at BCC.