UNITED STATES
City of Angels
by Kay Ebeling
“There in a picture from 1981 are my parents, my sister, and her nipples, smiling at the camera in the family photo album.” (See cartoon below)
In his home in the Castro district, conversation with my cousin* finally came to why I’d come to San Francisco with my six year old daughter. I asked him, “Do you remember Father Horne?” and then blurted out a version of events from the past few months, where I’d recovered the memory of the priest sexualizing me at age five, and confirmed that he’d molested my sister Patricia too. I ended with “Now I know why I’ve been so screwed up my whole life,” excited, thinking my cousin would share my elation. Instead: The Thud.
When you’re in a conversation and everything is going fine, then you mention you’re a pedophile priest victim, there it is: The Thud. [BEAT] All talk comes to a complete stop, any ambiance of friendliness that had once been there evaporates, the room is silent, and all persons within hearing distance stiffen. Once The Thud happens, communication is never the same again.
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