This is A Twenty Year Old Story...Why Bring It Up Now??

Some people wonder why I am bringing this up now.  They assume that because this is a twenty year old allegation, everyone knows about it, investigated it and "taken care of it."
Really?
What do they know?
Whom have they spoken to?
Not me.
Do they know that about thirteen years ago my father was reported to the authorities by a therapist who was seeing a former student of his?  This therapist believed that my father had molested her client.
The investigator told me at the time that he believed my father was guilty, but, "The community is stonewalling me.  No one will talk to me because I'm a goy.  An outsider."

 The charges were dropped for lack of sufficient evidence. In the minds of the Rabbonim this somehow proved my father's innocence.

None of them have ever spoken to me or my therapist about this or even tried to.  No one  has taken me seriously or bothered to contact me in the past twenty years.  They are relying on the Rabbi's word that THEY investigated carefully and decided that I was not credible, simply because I was hurt and acted hurt as a teen and young adult.

  I was suicidal at the time that they decided this and wasn't sure myself what had happened to me!   I was so confused by my family's denial, never mind my own!

Until relatively recently I didn't really believe that I was a real person who existed.   It's hard to know you exist when you have always been taught and treated like you aren't real.

 I had only three therapists since the age of twenty five, who all worked with me for multiple years and all believed that I had survived serious sexual abuse by my father.  No one in my family or the community has ever asked to speak to these therapists.
Why?
Perhaps they prefer to rely on the Baltimore Rabbonim who have no interest in speaking to my therapists.
Why?
 BECAUSE THEY DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH!

Rabbi H. decided that it is acceptable to kill me off, to destroy my relationship with my siblings, in order to try to keep me quiet.  What is Rabbi Hopfer and my family so afraid of?  If I am crazy or hallucinating why do I pose such a threat to them?

 My father did terrible, unspeakable, things to me as a child.  He is still abusing me by treating me, and allowing me to be treated by my family, as dead  in order to protect himself.  As long as my father is the principal of a school, and I am cut off from my family, and ignored by my community the abuse continues...MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS LATER THE ABUSE CONTINUES! 
For my own sanity and healing I will no longer play dead.
I bring this up again twenty years later with the full support of my therapist and my rav.

Child sexual abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum.   A family has to be unhealthy for incest to happen in the first place.
 I was systematically taught from a young age that my experiences and needs were not real and that I could not trust my own eyes.
Here is one example:
When I was ten years old I needed glasses.  My mother refused to get me them telling me "You see well enough."
When I finally got glasses a year later in order to, "get the teacher off my back not because you really need them,"  they were a badge of shame in my family.  I didn't really need them, I just wanted attention.  My siblings would snicker about my glasses and my exaggerated need for attention behind my back.   I remember being sent out of the room after my eyes were examined. (I must have been 11 or 12.)  I overheard the discussion between the opthamologist and my father.  My father argued with the doctor that he and my mother did not want me to have glasses because I read too much.  They wanted me to play outside more.  I remember the doctors incredulous voice saying, "I can see by the shape of her pupils that your daughter is very nearsighted!" Do you want your daughter walking around in a blurry world?!" 

The answer was, and still is, YES.

My parents, siblings, and the Baltimore Rabbonim want me walking around in a blurry world believing that I am not real and that I can't trust my own memories and experiences.

The saga of the glasses was long and agonizing.  I was perpetually frustrated in school because I couldn't see the board properly.  At one point one lens of my glasses broke and I walked around with only one lens for a year.  The result was a serious convergence insufficiency.

 When I was eighteen and got a new prescription my mother took my new glasses away from me because she said, they "looked too thick."  She wanted me to have a weak prescription and not the one my doctor said I needed.

 At that point something inside me snapped.  I broke all family rules of submission to parental authority and went to the glasses store myself to get my proper prescription.

My mother would tell me often that I had no reason to be sad or angry and I should put a smile on my face...She would chant the following quote as if handing me pearls of wisdom that someone had given to her:

"My face I don't mind it for I am behind it."

She seemed to be implying that I should not show negative emotion on my face as I was not the one who had to look at me.  My face was not for me but for the benefit of others.  No one wanted to see my negative feelings.
She shared this quote with me many times over the course of my childhood when I was angry or sad and let it show on my face.

Even my face did not belong to me...

Never mind the rest of my body and soul.