Male sexual abuse survivors isolated in the darkness

So the fact that he wasn’t answering his door in March wasn’t unusual. Those who knew him knew it meant he wanted to be left alone. They had no idea he had died alone in his sleep.

Sadly, he was just one of tens of thousands of men left damaged and isolated by sexual abuse.

A Ministry of Social Development report into male sexual abuse says about one in 16 men and one in six boys will report experiencing at least one episode of sexual victimisation in their life.

Often, it is an experience that engulfs their life, leaving them forever changed and forever apart.

Tautoko Tāne Taranaki (Male Survivors Taranaki) social worker Marion Mauga visited Old at his New Plymouth home in the middle of February.

The group works alongside about 60 male sex abuse survivors in Taranaki, providing peer-to-peer support in a bid to build meaningful relationships that help overcome years of fear, distrust and shame.

Old had been part of the group since 2021, accumulating 118 contact hours before his death, but overall he still wasn’t very communicative.

This was not unusual, Mauga says. Survivors often hide themselves away. They are disconnected from family and friends, and they prefer it that way.

“The men that we engage with, they also have rules when we turn up to their place. ‘Call first; text first. If I don’t respond, then don’t just show up out of the blue.’ Those were the difficult things.”

Mauga went to Old’s house on March 4 and 14. On one of those visits, the dog came to the door when he knocked. Old didn’t.

“I was assuming that, you know, the brother was having a sleep, like most of the time that I turned up there. And then, I think it might have been a couple of weeks later, when I went back there was a sign on the door warning ‘do not enter’.”

A death notice was published on April 2.

Changing attitudes

Prevalent as it is, male sexual abuse is not often talked about. But it has made headlines this year both here and overseas.

In New Zealand, the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care has estimated that from 1950 to 2019, about 200,000 vulnerable people faced abuse and neglect including torture, rape, sexual abuse, physical attacks and medical experimentation.

On November 12, Prime Minister Christopher Luxon will apologise to the survivors on behalf of the nation.

Some of the survivors have spoken out about what they experienced and how they have struggled with a range of issues their whole lives.

In the United States, the Menendez brothers, Lyle and Erik, have been in prison for decades after being convicted of murdering their parents in 1989. At their original trial their defence team said the brothers had been sexually abused by their father for years, but the prosecution claimed the abuse didn’t happen. That trial ended in a hung jury.

Their next trial, where the claims of sex abuse were not allowed, ended in their convictions.

But attitudes change. Fast forward 30 years and the abuse claim is a strong factor in calls for the brothers to be resentenced and possibly released.

‘Living in dark spaces’

Mauga says many of the men he works with also struggle with issues such as gambling, addiction and relationships.

“We’re getting a lot of traction in terms of our services with them, because other services are mandated. You know, ‘You’ve done your six-week programme – here’s the certificate.’

“We’re trying to bring a group of men who have experienced the same trauma and build up their own little community.”

Old’s death had an impact on that community and has been a reminder to the men of the importance of having connection with others in their group, he says.

“They live alone just like Richard and this is what happens if they pass away in their sleep. Nobody will know.

“Some of these guys, [on a] nice sunny day, if the curtains are not dark enough, they’re putting up rubbish bags to make it even darker. [They’re] just living in dark spaces.”

Guys like Dave, whom the Taranaki Daily News has agreed not to identify.

As a young adult, he got into drink and drugs to block the abuse out. He then did “something stupid”, he says, and ended up in prison.

Since then, he’s drifted through life trying to stay out of people’s way.

“I sleep a maximum of four hours a night and that’s not continuous. There’s the guilt, the fear, the isolation. I isolate myself deliberately. I don’t want to be around people. I prefer to be alone. Not wanting close friends. Not wanting to engage. Feeling alone in a crowd.”

Lifetime of trauma

Now living in Taranaki, Dave grew up in the South Island. His stories of sexual, physical and mental abuse are so horrendous it’s almost difficult to believe such things could happen.

The first police officer he disclosed his abuse to didn’t believe any of it.

Dave was told he had a vivid imagination. It was the 1980s. It’s unlikely someone would get that reaction now, he says.

He was adopted as a baby and the abuse started young. While his adoptive parents didn’t abuse him, they profited from it, he says.

“My adoptive parents were complicit. If you cried, you got beaten and they still did what they wanted to do. I can tell you incidents that would turn you green.”

He was scared to have friends, but when he was 16 he got a girlfriend, he says.

His main abuser found out. He got some guys to hold Dave down while they raped his girlfriend, he says.

She took her own life. That’s when Dave went to the cops.

The first police officer just laughed, but then a senior sergeant got involved and the abuser eventually pleaded guilty to five charges for different victims, including women, Dave says.

“He was doing videos and sending them all over the world. That’s why he pleaded guilty – they found three of them at his house.”

The man got five years. Dave got a lifetime of trauma.

Now in his 50s, he can still close his eyes and see in “minute detail what was happening in any one of those situations I was in”.

He doesn’t drink, do drugs, or smoke. If he did he might become impulsive and might decide he wants to die, he says.

He’s damaged, he says, and can’t be fixed. He used to drive trucks but can’t work now because of his health.

“A lot of male survivors have medical issues – addictions, self-harm, heart issues. If you keep something in so long, it turns into … a cancer.”

Dave can’t have children because of the injuries he suffered from his abuse. And he has had friendships rather than relationships.

“I can’t give them [partners] what they want.”

‘It all becomes too much’

Jason, who is also part of the Tautoko Tāne Taranaki community, shares a similar relationships story.

He is “not good” at intimacy, he says, so his relationships ended because his partners either thought he must cheating or they cheated on him.

Jason was abused as a child. He has been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, has other health issues and rarely leaves his house.

For a long time his response was to “avoid, avoid, avoid. Move on. Don’t worry about it.” Now he is seeing a counsellor and trying to unlock it all, he says.

“I had an ACC assessment and basically I’m not really sure when it started. I’ve blocked a lot of it out, so a lot of things I don’t remember.”

Physically it has affected his health. He has flashbacks, trouble sleeping, and anxiety. “If I have to go out of the house, I’m looking around all the time, observing, hyper alert. I have anxiety.”

And if he has a doctor’s appointment, he can’t sleep the night before.

“At the doctor it’s safe. But sitting in the waiting room, or standing in line – the anxiety and hyper alertness comes into play. It all becomes too much.”

A lot of survivors are isolated, Jason says. He spent years on his own thinking he was the only one.

Male sexual abuse statistics are based on what is reported only, and it is understood that men under-report.

Jason reckons that’s because “men have to be tough”. He is telling his story because he wants other survivors to realise they don’t have to be tough all the time.

Tautoko Tāne Taranaki is a life saver, he says. “Even if they’re busy, they have time to talk.”

Meaningful relationships

Talking to other survivors, peer support and making meaningful relationships is the way Tautoko Tāne Taranaki works, manager and peer support worker Mike Subritzky says.

“It opens the door very quickly relationally. We’ve got about 60 men. Over the four years we’ve been going, we’ve reached out to 90. It fluctuates. Our eldest is 65-plus, our youngest 19.”

Some of the men “have got life partners and some are working, so they’re are engaged in the community”, Subritzky says. “But by and large most of our men aren’t working, unfortunately, and don’t have lifetime partners, so they’re struggling by themselves.”

A lot of men have been subjected to abuse through whānau or friends of whānau or from opportunistic strangers. Some were abused in care.

In group meetings they manage who talks and who doesn’t with a tokotoko, a talking stick that was carved for them by Richard Old.

After Mauga expressed concern about Old, Subritzky went to his house, he says.

“I spoke to his neighbour who said the police visited him and said Richie had died in his sleep and had been in his flat for about three weeks.

“Another neighbour said he notified the police because there were indications something was out of order – smell.”

And while they could not be there when Old died, Tautoko Tāne Taranaki members conducted their own remembrance service for their friend, talking about their memories of him and sharing their prayers.

Anyone wanting to reach out can call Mike Subritzky on 027 444 0109 or make contact through the website: tautokotane-taranaki.nz.