Constance Garcia-Barrio waited many years before confronting her abuser, an uncle, and was then criticized by some relatives for doing so.

by Constance Garcia-Barrio

At a post-performance discussion of “The Bluest Eye,” Toni Morrison’s novel whose stage adaptation is now at the Arden Theatre, an ugly side of my family history compelled me to stand and speak.

In the play, Pecola Breedlove, a black girl growing up in the 1940s, yearns to have blue eyes like Shirley Temple. People will love her then, she believes. Self-rejection casts a long shadow in “The Bluest Eye,” but another issue looms larger. Pecola’s father rapes her, and she becomes pregnant at age 11.

When I spoke, I congratulated the Arden for taking on the taboo of incest. Survivors of Incest Anonymous (SIA) defines incest broadly as a sexual encounter initiated by a trusted person who damages a child. Sexual abuse can lead to alcoholism, drug addiction, self-injury, eating disorders, depression and other troubles, SIA notes.

Such abuse happened to me. I’m hardly alone. “At least one in five boys and one in three girls will suffer sexual abuse before age 18,” according to SIA statistics. Characters in “The Bluest Eye” are black, but incest cuts across lines of race, class and religion.

It took me years to gain the strength to confront my uncle, my abuser. Psychological counseling, prayer and healing services took me a long way. Re-evaluation Counseling, or RC, a process that frees people from emotional hurts so that they can resume full human vitality, also helped.

So when I heard that my uncle was in the hospital yet again due to complications from diabetes, I had the emotional wherewithal to confront him before he died. I left at the crack of dawn on the day in question and drove 200 miles to arrive the moment visiting hours began, the time most likely to give us privacy.

At the hospital my uncle greeted me with a smile. After all, I had seen him at weddings, picnics, dinners and reunions, and I‘d always spoken politely. I felt shaky that day, but I dove right in. “You molested me when I was a little girl,” I said.

His face froze, and the silence seemed to clot between us before he said, “No, I didn’t.”

“And I wasn’t the only one,” I said. I had begun bringing up the issue with cousins as well as older family members — the generation that would soon die — to learn as much of their truth as they would tell me. I hoped that if we started talking about sexual abuse, we might build enough awareness to protect our children and grandchildren.

“I never touched anyone,” my uncle said. He shrank as far from me as the bed’s railing allowed. He denied everything but then did something startling that affirmed me. While I sat in a chair near the foot of the bed to wait for my cousins, who’d said that they would visit him, my uncle let his hospital gown fall open so that he exposed himself.

The aftershocks of the confrontation came fast. One of his daughters, my cousin, accepted what I’d done, but the other one berated me. Later, she wrote me a 12-page letter about everything she considered wrong with me. I burned it. That beloved cousin hasn’t spoken to me in years.

My mother, my uncle’s sister, didn’t attack me directly but said that some of our relatives were saying that I was crazy, a troublemaker and that the confrontation could have killed him. It didn’t. He lived another year.

One can expect losses, but one can also expect gains. Both silence and confrontation have a price. I’ve gone forward feeling less angry and burdened, more whole, more able to speak up for myself. My reputation with some family members as a certifiable nut spread, and that, too, has had plusses. One young relative came to me and told me about the bladder infections she’d had in childhood due to incest. I supported her, mentioned how much counseling had helped me and said it might benefit her.

That’s the point of discussing incest in families, said Lenore Jefford, a licensed professional counselor and therapist certified by the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapist.

“It’s critical to discuss incest in families to empower victims so that they don’t feel responsible for what happened, and for them to know that they have allies in the family to support their healing,” said Jefford, who has a practice in Mt. Airy. “Discussion can allow victims to call out the abuser as someone who has committed a grievous act.”

As far as I can see, there’s no perfect time or place to broach the subject of incest or to nail perpetrators. A friend told me that at a family dinner, the man who’d molested her had the gall to condemn sexual abusers when the topic arose. My friend became enraged and let loose all hell right at the table. Chaos followed, but the truth was out. The abuser later apologized to her.

The Arden’s production of “The Bluest Eye” tells the story from a child’s viewpoint. It also handles the rape scene in a way that’s clear but sensitive so that it’s unlikely to trigger anguish in someone who has suffered abuse. The play provides a doorway into a discussion of a painful topic. I wish I could take everyone in my immediate and extended family to see it.

Constance Garcia-Barrio is a long-time resident of Mt. Airy, author and retired West Chester University professor of Romance languages. “The Bluest Eye” is running at the Arden Theatre until Sunday, April 8.