Uncomfortable territory

 So, based on an odd recommendation in a LGBTQ+ book group I follow, I picked up Target by Kathleen Jeffrie Johnson. Really kind of regretting that decision now. Indeed, really tempted to go wipe the dust off LJ and blog about it rather than try to keep shit off this rather public blog. 

So, we open on 16 year old Grady, who's walking home from a concert he attended with friends. A guy asks for directions, then he and a friend grab Grady by the hair and beat the shit out of him, followed by anal and oral rape. We cut to roughly a year later, the "After" as Grady thinks of it. Grady is starting at a new school, repeating 11th grade, having dropped out in November at his old school. Grady, frankly, has survivor trauma. He's got a definite eating disorder, eating very little, and puking up what does go down. He needs tactile stimulation to function. He can barely talk. 

What follows is a tale of finding the courage to talk about what happened in the van, however long it takes. Grady is helped by new friends who more or less treat him like a personal mascot, not caring that he doesn't speak often, and almost never in complete sentences.

But we get a very good look at the guilt that comes with it. The whole "Why was I a target?" "Why did the cop assume it was a boyfriend of mine and I having a fight?" "I'm bigger than they are, so why couldn't I fight back?" along with (since Grady was a virgin who had touched boobs once) "Am I gay because they convinced me they'd quit if I climaxed?" Oh yes, and the fucking goddamn shame of it all. The whole "I can't fucking tell anyone because they'll ask the same fucking questions I keep asking myself!"

We also briefly get into him getting molested by a neighbor as a kid (admittedly not as intense as what happened in the van, but still...)

I'm also proud of our fictional character for going to the cops after it happened (not that he had a choice, some lady found him bleeding on the side of the road), and for getting help by the end. Two things that are sadly the hardest part. 

It's ugly, but it's cathartic.