In many ways, I wanted to give this book five stars, but there are some issues that needed addressing that fell by the wayside, so I am ditching one star. I should say that, throughout this review, I will refer to the abuser as he/him, and the victim as she/her, but obviously abuser and particularly victim can be any gender, though the vast majority of sex abusers are men. Now, then, the book.
First, the good:
Clancy clearly and compellingly makes the case that child sexual abuse (hereafter, CSA), while an absolutely unacceptable crime that often permanently harms victims, doesn't happen the way we think it happens. From her research (mostly interviewing adult victims of CSA), she concludes that the vast majority of young-child victims initially don't find the abuse frightening or upsetting. Instead, she finds, most child victims find the encounter strange and confusing, and ultimately forgettable (the exception is when the abuse is physically painful, but this turns out to be relatively rare). Then, later, as the child rounds the corner of puberty, they start to awaken to sexuality, learn about their own sex drive and sex organs, and have an "ah ha" moment where they realize, now years later, that they were being used for an adult's sexual gratification as a young child. While they thought they were having a platonic encounter, the other person was doing something much different; they've been tragically manipulated. This realization becomes INCREDIBLY traumatic as the victim must now reframe all her memories to account for this horrendous discovery.
To make matters worse, the attacker is almost always someone the child knows, and he is often still in her life, perhaps an uncle or teacher or minister who is beloved by the parents and extended family. Not only is the child (now adolescent) suddenly the survivor of sex abuse, but she now feels she can't trust her own brain to spot an abuser. Clancy finds that victims of this type of abuse (in which they weren't initially disturbed, but later are) may actually suffer WORSE than those victims who endure terrifying and/or physically painful attacks that they resisted at the time. Though violent attacks obviously have horrific and perhaps permanent effects (including potential PTSD), the victim can at least trust her own brain to spot abuse and abuser; after all, she did so when she was a child. By contrast, the victim of long-game manipulation, grooming, and fondling may have initially responded with confusion or even pleasure (many victims report this), so she must deal with intense shame, guilt, and regret for "not having stopped" what a child of three or four or five can't be expected to understand, much less stop.
This all rang true to me from the first page. While I haven't survived CSA, I have friends who have, and who have shared their experiences with me. This exactly mirrors what I usually hear: that the touching was not painful, that the victim didn't physically (or verbally) resist, because she didn't understand what was going on, or because she "liked" the feelings, though she didn't identify them as sexual at the time. I recently read "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" for the first time, and Maya Angelou recounts her own CSA, including a penetrative rape at the age of eight. She fearlessly shares what others carry in secret for entire lives: that at first, when her mother's boyfriend was fondling her, she liked it, and thought it was a form of platonic intimacy. Only later, when her abuser threatened to hurt her brother if she "told," did she realize that the behavior must have been "bad." The horrifying situation escalated to the point where Maya was violently raped, at which point she was able to unequivocally identify the abuse as abuse (despite her very young age), and report it.
Because this mirrored what I have learned about CSA from first-person accounts, the first couple of chapters were a bit repetitive for me. I felt she spent a bit too much time trying to convince me that CSA delivers its trauma years after the original crime is committed. I expected to come here and find many reviews calling out the repetition. But instead, I find reviews filled with shock and horror at Clancy's findings that kids typically don't resist the initial abuse; some people clearly still didn't buy that premise, whether because they didn't find it compelling, or didn't want to. Clancy, then, was right to spend so much time on it.
The much bigger issue is what isn't in the book. As I read, I kept thinking, "Oh man, pedophiles will use this to say that if we just decriminalized CSA, it would cease to be traumatic for survivors." The thinking would go like this: "These kids don't experience anything worse than confusion during these sexual encounters, so long as intimidation and physical pain aren't involved. They only come to identify it as 'bad' once they are older because they live in a society where we demonize kids experiencing natural sexual urges. If we simply stop doing this, then as the child grows up, she won't suddenly reframe her healthy childhood sexual experiences as abuse." I could feel this interpretation hanging over every line in this book, and I kept waiting for Clancy to address and eviscerate it. Given the incredibly sensitive subject matter and its high stakes, Clancy and her editor would have done well to foresee this interpretation, and nip it in the bud. But the book never does. It's a shame, because a single paragraph could have cut off this line of inquiry. Perhaps even a line saying something like, "These survivors began to reframe -- with horror -- their experiences, not simply because they learned about sex abuse, but because they learned about SEX. Simply realizing that they have budding sexual urges, and having an innate concept of consent, they are horrified to realize that an adult who was supposed to protect them, instead fooled them into being an object of sexual gratification. Even before they know about abuse, they know something terribly unjust has been done to them." I am assuming that this is the conclusion Clancy came to, since she vehemently states again and again that CSA is an unforgivable crime that should be thoroughly prevented and punished. But she simply never puts this fine a point on it, and this missing piece of the puzzle turned out to be pretty critical: you can find a mostly-positive review of the book on NAMBLA's pro-pedophile website.
There are also some issues with language that might partly be due to me reading this 2011 book with 2018 eyes. For example, she speaks of children "consenting" to fondling because they didn't fight it. Of course, now we know that children can't "consent" because they don't have enough information to do so. A better term might be, "didn't fight it," which most children don't. Of course, the point here is not that the child *should* have fought it. The point is that the adult abuser is wholly responsible; he is taking advantage of a trusting child, while he has way more information than his victim does. The power imbalance makes it impossible for the child to meaningfully consent (hence our age of consent laws). But, again, this missing attention to language subtleties was unfortunate. There are other similar language issues that came up, but I tried my best not to be too distracted by them. Regardless, while this handful of ill-chosen terms muddied the water, the book taken as a whole is completely clear on child sexual abuse: it is inexcusably bad, and the child is never at fault. Yes, even if they "liked" it at the time. Yes, even if they told their abuser they wanted it. Children don't always understand the ramifications of their fleeting curiosities and desires, and a responsible and loving adult steers them away from those things which will harm them, now or years later.
Back to the good: Clancy is a memory researcher (her other book, "Abducted," is a fascinating look at how people come to believe they were abducted by aliens, and even build false memories around that narrative). I am fascinated by the faultiness of human memory, and especially by false memories and "repressed memories." Believers in "repressed memory" say that a traumatic event can cause the victim to dissociate to the point that her brain refuses to build and keep a memory of the incident, to protect her from future harm -- the harm of living with a horrifying past. The memory, then, is buried deep within the subconscious, and either never released, or released suddenly and unexpectedly. Or, in the truly far-out cases, recovered with the aid of the much-discredited "recovered memory therapy." This therapy has been shown to be merely an invitation for morbid daydreaming, causing patients to conjure up imagined scenarios of terrible events (not just sex abuse, but Satanic abuse, or alien abductions, and more). Despite having read multiple books and articles on the subject, I had never quite gotten one thing clear: Clancy and her fellows (such as Elizabeth Loftus) have repeatedly said that trauma doesn't make our brain hide memories; to the contrary, it SOLIDIFIES memories. The abject fear we experience during a robbery, or a rape, or a natural disaster, has the effect of "slowing time down," allowing our brains to react faster than they normally would, but also allowing us to build incredibly detailed memories. Counter to repressed memory theory, traumatic events are *less* likely to be forgotten, not more. Yet, I also heard these experts say that abuse is sometimes forgotten and then remembered. This sounded like a contradiction, but I could sense that I was missing something. Clancy cleared up that "something" for me. Abuse, she explains, is often forgotten, but that is *because* it may not have been traumatic initially. Once we understand that most CSA victims were confused, but not afraid or in pain, during the initial acts, we can see why the whole thing was "forgettable" to them... until they arrived at their pre-teen years, recalled the events, and realized that a precious thing -- their first sexual encounter -- had been stolen from them by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The memory had been forgotten because it was forgettable. Now, imbued with tragic meaning, it will never be forgotten again.
The last couple of chapters of Clancy's book might be the most important. She explores the reactions to her findings, and how well-meaning defenders of children, and feminists, and other scholars, attacked her, insisting that she must be a pedophile, or a pedophile-defender, if she would release her data. (By the way, it is literally impossible to come to this conclusion if you read the book.) I reckon these people saw the same gap I did, and ran to the unfair conclusion that Clancy left that part out not because of oversight, but because of malice. I think this is deeply unfair. Yet, this attitude is still alive. Check out the comments on videos of Clancy interviews and behold the people calling her a pedophile, despite that very interview featuring her repeatedly calling CSA an inexcusable crime. Witness, even, those trying to write her off by calling her a kook: "She even believes in alien abductions!" Nope. She doesn't. These people haven't read a word this woman's written.
One thing that is very clear is that Clancy is writing this book in order to protect victims. The trauma that they endure (and it is trauma in the vernacular sense, though her clinical definition of this word can become a bit of a distraction), can be life-long, even if it is delayed. It may blunt their abilities to form connections, have healthy sexual relationships and, as mentioned above, trust their own brains. It was this particular element that struck close to home for me. For 3.5 years, I had a boyfriend who was carrying on multiple relationships at once. I thought I was his one-and-only, but I was more like his one-in-ten. I didn't find out until much later, and had to reframe all of my memories. The hardest part to deal with, and to explain to others, was the way in which the realization made me not trust my own brain. I wanted any explanation of what had happened, any red flag I might have missed, so that I could protect myself in the future. Friends found this perplexing, but supported me as I dug through old letters and emails and photos. Likewise (but worse), I imagine that these CSA victims must paw through their old memories for most of their lives, looking for a red flag, however faint, that they can point to: "Ah ha! There it is. Next time, I will know."
As Clancy's book ends, she makes a heartfelt plea: that we listen to the data because the victims need us to. By building a narrative that CSA is always painful and frightening, we drive MOST victims into silence. They look back on their former selves, and see a confused child who didn't fight back as their beloved uncle touched them in a way they didn't understand. They think, "How come I didn't fight back, or scream, or even know it was abuse? Other kids do!" So they live in secrecy, in silence. And yet they are the majority. Of course, this all comes from a society that *wants* to protect children from abuse. We imagine that if we give people the idea that kids aren't horrified *every time* they are exposed to sex too early, that abusers will find an excuse to abuse at every turn. And this is a fair concern, especially given the aforementioned NAMBLA review. But this concern is so pronounced, that we aren't listening to victims. A truly tragic picture, in which victims are thrown under the bus in order to protect... them.
It's worth noting that while this book focuses on CSA with delayed trauma (because this type is the most common), it does not disregard the existence of sex abuse which is horrifying and traumatic in the moment. Children are violently raped, children are made to be terrified, or to freeze up to the point that they *cannot* fight back. These things happen, and can never be dismissed simply because they are the minority. Clancy's objective is not to judge which kind of abuse is worst, but to broaden our understanding of what abuse can look like, and make room for the majority of CSA victims to look back on their abuse not as a shameful reflection on them, but as a tragically common experience for which they hold absolutely no culpability.
This book is important, even with its flaws. I hope a future edition will clear up the relatively easily addressed issues, because there is so much important information here. But until then, anyone who cares about CSA should read this book. I imagine it will be tremendously comforting to victims who imagined they were alone. You aren't alone, even if you didn't resist the manipulation of a conniving adult. You couldn't have. You were a child.