It's time to turn off the mute button.

  This will be hard to read. But it’s time. I have been silent too long.  And now, that silence has hurt the person I care most about in this world. My husband, Edward.

  To those in my family who don’t know about this, I’m sorry you have to hear it this way. To those of you who know, you are as guilty of the injustice of this act as I am. Time has not healed it for me. The have been no repercussions.

  When I was in high school, my college age brother decided that for some reason it would be OK to have sex with his sister.  One night, when my parents weren’t home, he came into my room and into my bed.  When he first came to my door I told him to go away.  He didn’t.  

  And I didn't tell anyone what happened.

  Why tell now?  Because I should have said something 38 years ago, because I should have said something 35, 30, 25, 20, 15, 10, 5, 1 years ago.  Because I shouldn't have let my family be more important than my life, my mental health and my husband. Yes, because my silence has now put my marriage in jeopardy.  And this will be the first of many steps to save that marriage. If you think my motivations are selfish, they are in part. To say I’m sorry to the one I love for my silence. I'm sorry for letting you be the blast shield. For not standing up for you. For letting you do all the heavy lifting. For lying to myself that I could have both, that everything would be OK. For not listening to you all these years. For putting that fantasy in front of you. 

  But it’s more then that. To stay silent now, when I should have spoken up so long ago, is to just keep doing what I’ve done all along. To make no changes. To let someone else speak for me. It’s cost him dearly. The world, what’s left of my blood relatives, friends, and others may not like me after this. May not ever want to talk to me again. So be it. It's time to turn off the mute button. It’s time to make a change. If it costs me, so be it. 

  What my brother did was called digital rape. That’s what the professionals call it. I told them all the details. Yes, I’ve been to see a councilor. I will spare you those details here. I only went to counseling after Edward insisted, because he couldn’t help me any more. I fought him on this. He was right. I was wrong. All these years, I let Edward get angry for me. That has to stop. I have to get angry for myself for once and forever.   

  Before you think this is a he said/she said incident, my brother admitted he did it. To my councilor. To my parents. To his wife. To his kids, I’ve been told. But not my sister’s kids. It’s time they heard it. They should have heard it when I told my sister. She asked me not to tell them. Why? I don’t know. I tell myself now that they were minors at the time. In truth, I didn’t want to tell them either. I didn’t want to ruin their view of their uncle. I told myself I was shielding them, but I was really shielding him. My niece has a daughter of her own now. It’s time she knew.  

  I confronted my brother in 1996. He said he was sorry. Then things got worse. He said he would make reparations, a donation to a woman’s shelter, spend time helping other victims, among other things. My sister-in-law did some soul searching, found God, and forgave him. Then they decided that they couldn’t do anything as reparations. It would hurt their kids. I didn't ask for much. That’s why I don’t know if they did in fact tell them. They broke their word before, how do I know they really did tell their children, never mind what “truth" they told them if they did.

  We wrote letters, my brother and I, and some emails. We tried to work things out. Then he asked me, “Why did you let me into your bedroom?” I didn't let you in, you came in.  Why was I ever put in that position? Why the fuck was I in a position to even have to say no, go away, in the first place?  In what world is it OK to have sex with your sister?  Why did no one but Edward ever ask those questions? Perhaps because I didn't tell anyone else. Now I am. I still have that letter. 

  After that, I stopped talking to my brother. And then he cut me off from his kids. I couldn’t have a relationship with them if I didn’t have a relationship with him. So be it. I lost two of my nieces and a nephew that day.  

  “… just hit the mute button and pretend eliminating discomfort is the same as effecting actual change.”  - Edward Schlosser (June 2015)

  So what’s changed since I told my family. Nothing much. Everyone cried, everyone soul searched. Beyond that I can’t say. My parents wanted us to work it out. They didn’t want to get in the middle. They didn’t want to risk loosing touch with their grandchildren. Because he would cut them off, too. And I guess their grandchildren were more important to them than a daughter who choose not to have children.  

 "If you choose not to decide you still have made a choice." - Rush (Freewill)

  I am guilty as well. I let them do that. I didn’t say me or him. I didn’t say make him do something. That there should be repercussions for his acts. Maybe if they had threatened to not see his children he would have done the right thing.  Maybe if I had insisted, they would have made him keep his word to me. Maybe I would not be where I am now.  Maybe they would have still chosen him over me.  

 But I do know this. My parents and my sister and her husband, who likely doesn’t know, are all vacationing with my brother and his kids this week in North Carolina.  

  And I am twisting in the wind. The black sheep. The bad child. Ostracized form the rest of the family. Because it’s easier to talk to him and pretend everything is OK then be reminded of it by seeing me. And I have let them do it. I have let them hurt me over and over again. And worse, I have let them hurt Edward. And I have hurt Edward because of my inaction. And that may not be forgivable. 

  

  After all this time later, here I sit, still struggling with it. Every time a news story about some priest, some politician, some Christian reality TV star who assaulted someone hits the airwaves, I go back there. And then the world says, oh, he didn’t mean it. He’s sorry. He never did it again. He was young and didn’t know better. Or just plain, he didn’t do that, he never would, until the second victim comes forward. 

  My brother knew better. And so did they. And if they were truly, truly sorry and ashamed, they would have taken action before they were found out. They would have come forward themselves and started doing the things that weren’t easy, that would cost them something, anything. I didn’t ask a lot. No more then admission to Disneyworld. But that would have been taking away from his kids. 

  Oh, he went to a counselor, too, I’m told. And he was depressed about what happened, but only after the news got out. I guess that was penance enough for everyone else. On with life, chip chip, stiff upper lip and all that. God forgave him. God abandoned me, if He ever existed.

  I didn’t start this. I didn’t go into his room, he came into mine. I didn’t go to his bed, he came to mine. He is three years older then I am, and out weighed me by more then hundred pounds. Up to that point in my life, I trusted him. He was my big brother. I looked up to him.  And yet, it has become my fault that I have not gotten over it. It’s my fault that I have not forgiven him. My fault that we are a splintered family. I am the one who is paying for it. And worse, Edward is paying as well.  

  I will pay no more.  We. Will. Pay. No. More.

  I have been silent because I didn’t want to cause pain to my family.  Instead, I hurt Edward.

  That stops here.

  I have been silent because I was afraid people would blame me. I was afraid people would shun me, wouldn't like me, and believe that I was to blame, because you know, I’m female and boys will be boys. That I was somehow to blame.

  That stops here.

  I have been silent because I did not want to hurt my family. I don’t mean to hurt them here, but the truth is, I’m hurting. This isn’t about lashing out. It’s about speaking out. I have been silent too long. 

  The silence stops here.

  Guilty as charged. I have made no changes. I change that now.

  To Edward, you have been right all along. I have been a coward. This is something I should have done a long time ago.  

  He is Mark Monroe.  I am Karen Monroe Morgan.

  Why didn’t you say no? 

   I did.  You didn’t listen.

  It’s time to turn off the mute button.