Elder Abuse Awareness Day, June 15
By Kathleen Hoy Foley
Elder abuse is what happens in shabby nursing homes at the
hands of evil caregivers, or at the other end of a phone line when a lowlife
bleeds an oldster’s bank account dry. Once exposed, elder abuse gives rise to public
fury and incites cries for political action and criminal prosecution. There is something ugly to see when an
elder’s arm is black and blue or when retirement savings have been siphoned away
by a no-name loser and his computer.
But what about elder abuse that is invisible to the
eye? What about elder abuse that is permitted? Not only permitted, but encouraged and
celebrated? It is particularly sinister
when abuse disguises itself as a noble cause and delivers its wounds from the
shadows, especially to those unequipped to protect themselves. Abuse, no matter what name it goes by or how
it is concealed, always injures a body and damages a life.
An elderly person subjected to abuse forgoes all hope for emotional
recovery. The impact is too great; the time
to rebuild what has been destroyed too limited.
Abuse perpetuated against an elderly woman defines the rest of her
life. It is her final chapter. For many of us, it was also our first
chapter.
I am an old woman among thousands of old women across this
country who, as juveniles, were brutally impregnated in a time when we did not
own our own bodies, when sexual assault lacked description, and termination
rights did not exist. Rape was our offense. And pregnancy was our punishment. We hid out in maternity homes. But the finger of public accusation found us
anyway and pointed straight at our disgraced, swollen bellies. Eventually we were rescued by the
confidential adoption process that freed us from all connections to the
assailant and returned us to our lives.
But we were permanently, catastrophically injured, and forever
shamed. We are shame—embodied and
visceral. Trauma is our permanent, screeching
companion.
Once again we stand accused.
We are elderly women hunted because of those secret, shameful
pregnancies. We are ghosts fabricated from
delusions. We are worn bodies hunted by younger
aggressors manic with obsession, spewing anger the equivalent of road rage. We are relics hunted for our names; our
lineage; for the blood circulating in our veins. We are fossils hunted for the bones and flesh
that structure our images. We are
sideshow freaks hunted for our deformities and DNA. We are little girls in wrinkled skin hunted
to provide humiliating, ancient sexual details.
We were forced breeders, broodmares hunted now as mothers.
We are invisible. Young
aggressors mock our trauma as fictional.
Yet we are in your family, among your friends. We eat at your Thanksgiving table. We are mute, unseen old women singed by the
legacy of sexual violence. Violence that
never found justice or voice. We could not
seek justice because justice was not available to us. We had no name for rape or sexual abuse. No words for the unspeakable. No reference for sexual violence committed by
familiar faces. Sexual assault was part
of our lives. It occurred in our
homes. In our schools. In our churches. At family gatherings. We were invisible girls assaulted in plain
sight. It was what we endured and what
we were blamed for. It was a time when girls
lived at the mercy of male aggressors—sexual predators who frolicked on wide-open
playgrounds. We were their free
amusement.
Now we are elderly women terrified of exposure. We have protected our loved ones from our
sordid pasts even as we live trembling in dark, secret hiding from its pursuit. We know that our families cannot protect
us. Caregivers won’t protect us. Nursing homes, like the archaic maternity
homes where once we cowered, can’t protect us.
No cop with a gun strapped to his hip can protect us from abuse that is permitted.
As the clamor to unseal confidential adoption records grows
steadily louder and increasingly hostile and the public imagines fairytale “reunions,”
elderly women are silently absorbing the blows and sucker punches landed by aggressors
advancing toward them in revenge. Lawmakers
are swayed by ignoble rhetoric from aggressors disguising themselves as
champions for adoption reform and retroactive justice. The public is influenced by delusions of
sentimental, made-for-television, “mommy” moments, as the mental health
community remains stonewall silent on the living damage of past sexual trauma
in the elderly. All the while,
traumatized old women remain targets of strangers hunting them—aggressors enjoying
public and legal support as they claim entitlement to elderly women’s lives,
their beloved families, and their cherished homes during their final, fleeting
chapters.
June 15 is Elder Abuse Awareness Day. Abusing an elderly woman by invading her life,
destroying her privacy, and exposing her past sexual wounds is indefensible. Perverting that abuse into a righteous cause
and celebrating it as a victory is not only contemptible, it is a call for
political action and criminal prosecution.
We need your help.
Elder Abuse Awareness
Day, June 15
