Today is the day that I stop lying and covering up for the man who used his power to abuse me for years. Twenty years is long enough. A few months ago, a high school classmate innocently tagged me in a Facebook post with the man who molested me for two years, Douglas Cornell. I was shocked at the brazen confidence of the man who abused me (and I am concerned that he may have abused many others). How could he feel safe enough to join social media? Then it occurred to me. Why wouldnt he feel confident? It has been twenty years and probably longer for many of his other victims. He’s 73 now. He has gotten away with crime after crime. He is a skilled and patient predator, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He picked a 15 year old virgin who moved from a town of 13,000 to a city of over 1.1 million. He picked a teenager who knew no one and who wanted desperately to learn and be accepted. He didn’t move in quickly because that would be a rookie mistake. He waited months and slowly ingratiated himself to me and my family. There were plenty of compliments, special performing opportunities, and promises of career assistance because “I was special.” He had authority because he was the head of the department of music at Booker T Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. He dressed in a uniform similar to Mr. Rogers which made him look like the last person one would think of as a child molester. He made sure that he was my chaperone for every field trip and school outing, and when I couldn’t afford to attend an event he paid my way. He even picked me up for school when I didn’t have a ride. He befriended my family so that they would trust him. He preyed on our naivety and innocence. He created a system of debt and gratitude, a system of trust and dependence where he was always careful to slowly blur the boundaries as to not set off alarms. He did have help from many people. Some of those people include the principals and counselors at Jacksonville Middle School. They taught me that no one in authority will help you. That lesson came when on my 12th birthday I was assaulted in the hallway by another 6th grader. When a wonderful and kind teacher immediately reported this assault, the administration told me it was probably because of the way that I dressed. I had on a puff paint teddy bear sweatshirt and acid wash jeans. Even if my clothing had rivaled Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman,” their comments were wrong and incredibly damaging. The student offender was briefly suspended, and his friends took their revenge through intense bullying and instilling a constant fear in me. Their most successful act was wrapping my house in toilet paper and setting it on fire. The lesson learned was never tell because its probably my fault anyway and Im risking my life and possibly my familys. Other people who helped Douglas Cornell get away with his crimes were several students at BTWHSPVA who ironically were all female except for one. Before the physical abuse began, students who were jealous of the attention I was getting from him started a new round of bullying. They would call me teachers whore, and even with my adamant defense it only made them more aggressive which further isolated me. Had social media been around then, I think I probably would have ended my life. As the abuse grew more and more frequent, I was very close to making that decision. I can only imagine what it would have been like to encounter bullying day and night via computer. I struggled with the desire to turn him in. Each time I would begin to have the courage to tell he made sure to remind me that I had seduced him and that if I told I would be taken away from my family and sent to a foster home. My only option was to take as many courses as possible and graduate in two years. I tried telling a friend but he later used my secret as black mail to try and get a better part in the school musical. One of the worst effects of the abuse was that I spent my days covering up for him. I couldnt keep up with all the lies I was telling. I began to lose my greatest comfort which was attending church. I was getting a message of shame and blame from my abuser and from the church. The message I was receiving was that I was unworthy of Gods love and needed to live a life of hiding in the darkness. Everything I did or said was about hiding, fear, and shame. He made sure that he could take me out in public by purchasing several wigs and other disguises. There were times when I even thought that the right thing to do was to marry my molester because that would make this somehow better or at least less horrible. I used to be afraid to tell my story because at first I believed this was all my fault. Then I was afraid that if I were honest I would be seen as a pitiful victim. The truth is that I am not defined by the crimes made against me but rather by the strength it took to overcome them. There were angels along the way who saw my pain and showed compassion. A best friend named Kelly Cooper did everything in her power to protect me. An AP English teacher believed in my intelligence and taught me that hard work would bring me opportunity (and unbeknownst to her my eventual freedom). I have learned so much from gifted and insightful therapists. Friends like Rebecca Darren who treated me with kindness and understanding when I shared what had happened years after college. I also learned that not all churches teach blame and shame; some of them actually behave like Jesus. I have made it my life’s mission to help build a church where all people are welcomed and loved. I know I cant prosecute him legally because it has been well past the statute of limitations. The life I have made is beautiful, whole, and honest. Even its imperfections are beautiful. I stand in the light and I invite others to do the same. So today I lose a piece of my privacy. This is a price Im willing to pay in order to live in the truth.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 00:28:22 +0000
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