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Lifelines: The Power of Fiction to Tell the Truth

© Regina Sewell

Some books have the power to break through the barriers of social isolation experienced by people who are marginalized, providing them with a sense of connection to a larger world. This is especially the case when the books give voice to groups who have long been silenced. Debra Stang's recent book, "Visiting Grandma," does both. "Visiting Grandma" provides an empathetic look at the horror of sexual abuse and the pain of anti-gay harassment. Danny, the lead character, is a thirteen-year-old boy who is dealing with peers who gay-bash him and his mother's boyfriend who physically and sexually abuses him. With a great deal of courage, resilience and "pluck," Danny overcomes the abuse that he suffers, leaving readers feeling empowered and hopeful. Further, "Visiting Grandma" counters the victim-blaming messages that permeate our culture, making it clear that sexual abuse is always wrong and never deserved.

Perhaps this book resonates with me so well because Danny's experiences at home and school parallel my own. I was isolated and alone and struggling with sexual abuse and peer rejection. When I was Danny's age, my family moved about a hundred miles in distance and a million miles in culture from where we lived before just before I was going to start the eighth grade. After we moved, my father worked what seemed like 24-hour days, and when he was home, he was grumpy and unbearable. My mother was not happy with the move, angry at my father for working so much, stressed about trying to adjust to a new job, and depressed because she missed her friends. My brother was angry and resentful about moving and took it out on me. If things didn't go well at school or he was otherwise in a bad mood, he picked fights with me, which often ended in rape. I wish that someone had been there like Danny's friend, Josh, or the director of nursing at his grandmother's nursing home, Kathy Moore, to tell me that what my brother was doing to me wasn't my fault and to help me get out of the painful situation.

There are also parallels between my life and Danny's at school. Like Danny, homophobia rendered me a complete outcast at school when I was in the eighth grade. I didn't understand the gender rules for adolescents. I was a tomboy: I didn't wear make-up or spend hours on my hair and nails; I didn't understand the fashion scene for teenage girls; and even worse for my social acceptability ratings, I was not interested in boys. This, in addition to the fact that I was smart, liked to read and actually did my homework turned out to be a recipe for social death. I was a walking, breathing reject waiting to happen, and it did, every time the bell rang to change classes, go to lunch, or go home.

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