By Jeremy Sachs
1st July 2024
Last night, I slept worse than usual. Bizarre dreams and sleep paralysis made for a bemusing and slightly punishing night’s sleep. One theory behind why I had such bad sleep, is that this morning I sent off the first draft of my book, ‘An Intersectional Guide for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse and Their Allies’ to the editor. Another milestone, anxiously (and sleepily) reached in the life of this book.
In the days leading up to sending the draft, I asked close friends and colleagues to offer feedback on certain chapters. Some pointed out that the tone and language seemed to shift and change, depending on the topic I was writing about. This wasn’t unexpected. Being dyslexic, my ability to write consistently can be influenced by the time of day, caffeine, sleep, etc. However, they noticed something beyond the typical dyslexic-infused shifts — something more emotionally charged was happening, and I hadn’t realised it.
From the beginning of the writing process, my goal has been for the book to reflect my therapeutic voice as closely as possible. For the survivors reading it, I wanted them to hear a friendly, professional tone, akin to what you would experience if we were sitting opposite each other in the therapy room. For allies of male survivors, I aimed to create a sense of authentic, person-centered supervision. I strove to ensure that the tone and language of this book aligned with who I am as both a therapist and an individual navigating their own journey.
However, as the book progressed and my research into the experiences of various male survivors deepened, the tone began to shift away from the friendly and professional. Anger started to seep into my writing. Friends and colleagues who read the drafts noticed this change, often pointing out that certain sections didn't sound like my voice or that the tone felt angry. They were right. When I went back to rewrite these sections, I was often surprised by how emotional my words had become without my realising it.
While researching and writing, I was feeling increasing anger at how society fails male survivors—anger at the families who fail to protect them, at the criminal justice system that dismisses and persecutes some survivors, and at healthcare professionals who pathologize men’s identities or diminish their experiences. The social and health inequalities experienced by male survivors from different backgrounds are undeniable. My anger at these injustices spilled onto the page unintentionally.
There is, of course, a place for this anger. I never want to censor strong emotions or imply that anger is inherently bad. I also don’t want to diminish anger about social injustice—this is important and appropriate. However, from the outset, I intended this book to acknowledge the pain, anger and barriers different men face without letting it become all-consuming. Managing my own emotions and appropriate anger at social injustice has been a significant challenge in the writing process. It threatened to turn the book into something I never intended—an angry book that at times could catalogue the grave injustices men face, rather than be a resource that aims to reconnect men to the world around them and themselves.
Why share this? Well, I suspect if you’re interested in my work or this book, your life too has been impacted by sexual abuse or social injustice, either as a survivor, an ally to survivors, or both. I hope this blog highlights the insidiousness of sexual abuse and how it can infiltrate us without us noticing. Supporting survivors—as therapists or loved ones—brings us close to some of the most traumatic experiences a person can survive. It can awaken our own traumatic past, even unconsciously. For me, it was a real reminder of the importance of clinical and peer supervision, as well as the value of close friends and colleagues who spotted my emotions before I could. Sexual abuse is a topic best tackled collectively, relying on our support networks to keep us connected and not lose ourselves to the anger of injustice and abuse.
Looking forward in the writing process. While the book is with the editor all July, I will start some illustrations. These will be hand drawn worksheets throughout the book giving readers different coping strategies to try. I don’t know if they will be good enough to make the final edit or look out of place, but I want to give it a go. In August I’ll get the edits back and it’s on with the second draft!
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