Which books are your favorites?
My first Book was this memoir of surviving child abuse:
"Michael, Little Boy Black & Blue: Surviving the Effects of a Poisonous Child Abuser"
"Michael’s early childhood was riddled with extreme abuse and violence perpetrated by his stepfather. Michael's father committed suicide as a young adult. He and his mother attempted suicide as well. Michael rarely let on about his struggles until he realized that there was much more going on than he could handle on his own. I was intensely moved and deeply changed by reading his memoir."
Harley Jones
"Michael, Little Boy Black & Blue," chronicles the life and the experiences of a Southern LGBTQIA+ youth who endured unimaginable mental and physical abuse and violence starting at the age of five, in the early 1960s, continuing through the gay movement of the 1970s, the AIDS epidemic and its backlash of the 1980s and beyond, which resulted in his development of severe PTSD and other health conditions.
Michael refused to be bound by his past, but he found that it has a way of catching up when least expected. His, is a story of pain, loss and torment, but it also serves as an example of hope, perseverance and resilience. Through his journey, he was able to overcome the temptations of suicide, drugs, sexual abuse and torture to become a successful artist, a teacher and a miniaturist, all while searching for someone that he never knew he had lost.
What may you find out about yourself when you read about someone else?
“An excerpt from Michael, Little Boy Black & Blue”
One day, when I was eighteen years old, I was driving Brian Keith McCann home from our high school in my cream-colored 1976 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. The year was 1980. Brian was a senior and I was a junior at Sulphur High School in Sulphur, Louisiana. We had the radio turned up loud and we were both singing, laughing, and joking. I was feeling giddy. Then, after a few radio-announcements, a song came on. Brian said, "I love this song!" He began to sing along with it. I was instantly spell-bound by him, although I had known him for several months.
I pulled the car off the road to hear him singing without the distraction of driving. He sang directly to me. I looked into his blue eyes and I watched his lips moving as he serenaded me. Inside my heart, I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with this handsome fellow, but I did not dare tell him. I knew then and there that I wanted to remember this beautiful boy and this glorious day forever.
When I was five years old, a monster brutalized me, then urinated all over my fresh wounds in the bathtub of his tiny, shitty trailer. My mother had just married the horrible man who did it to me. Thirteen years later, this new stepfather of mine, erased all my beautiful memories of Brian Keith McCann from my mind – almost forever.
"MICHAEL
Little Boy Black & Blue: Surviving the Effects of a Poisonous Child Abuser"
Excerpt: The start of CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE – Shit Just Got Real! GUY - The First REAL Punisher
Shortly after my mother left with Daddy-D, the monster told me to get up and go bend over the bathtub. I knew by now that, "bend over the bathtub" meant that I was about to get a spanking. I had several from him already. I started crying and I began asking him what I did. Guy did not respond, he just said, quite calmly, at first, "go bend over the tub." I was getting up slowly. He screamed, "NOW!" So, I jumped up off the floor and stepped into the bathroom. I kept trying to say that I was sorry for whatever I did and that I would never do it again. I bent over and reached my hands down into the tub, with my backside facing him. He took off his belt and told me to drop my pants and underwear. This time was different.
So, I stood back up to slip my pants and underwear down, I was so afraid when I bent back over the tub. I had to brace myself with my hands on the bottom of the inside of the tub to keep from falling into it. I noticed a drip from the faucet just as I became aware of my own tears falling in unison with the droplets. I felt the first mild whack on my backside. Then another. And another. He was just warming up! Then, he beat the crap out of my five-year-old butt while I screamed in agony, shock, and horror! This was the worst I had been given yet. I did not know why it was happening or when it was ever going to stop.
What had I done? Then, and this gets more disturbing, so - fair warning.... He said, "Stand up now. Aww, now stop the crying," with an almost baby-like voice to me. He undressed me all the way - somewhat gently, not so forcefully now, but I was hurting bad and I kept trying to put my tiny hands over my burning, stinging butt cheeks, thinking he was about to do it again, or something worse. I had no idea what was about to happen. Then, he said that I was going to have a bath. I could hear the rotting floor creaking and snapping beneath him as he wobbled about.
He bent down and lifted me into the tub, but he did not turn on the water. I stood there waiting to do as he instructed - whatever it takes to keep him from spanking me again. I knew that I was sniveling and crying, but I was trying to stop, to "be a big boy," for him, because "big boys don't cry." He hesitated a minute or two. I could feel him looking at me, but I did not want to look up at him and he did not tell me to. He dropped his pants and placed one hand on the wall behind me, to steady himself, as he leaned in toward the tub. Then he took his other hand and held out his scary looking uncut dick, which he positioned so near my face that I could not help but look at it, and then he just peed all over me, as I stood there in that old, stained trailer bathtub seething with pain. At first, I think that I tried to grab at the shower curtain, but he screamed at me. "Who's your daddy now!" he said, repeatedly.
I did not know what was going on. He told me to turn around while he was still peeing on me. He said that I was his own personal toilet and then he said that I needed to stop turning around and keep very still. I was only turning around because I did not know when to stop. I thought I was doing it wrong. Now, I stood still, and he finished, as he seemed to bob from side to side. I well-recall how the urine burned the areas of my butt that had whelps from his black leather belt. I think the silver metal buckle part hit me occasionally.
I never once looked at his face while he did this shit to me. I saw everything else though. Why? Why was he doing this to me? Now, as an adult, I know there is no answer for that. But I knew then that I had better do just as he said. The image of his uncut dick and that giant fur-ball of massive black bush never left my mind. I do not mean for that to sound anything but horrifying, because that is exactly what it was to me as a five-year-old. I had certainly never seen anything like that before that day! Every detail of that first incident is permanently etched into my head forever.
Sadly, I had to experience that shit again and again and again over the next two days, and then for years to come. And I knew while standing there covered in his beer piss with my red-hot whelps on my butt that it was all because I had said, "You're not my daddy!" At least, that is how I tried to make sense of it.
So, I tried, after this - I really did. I wanted to do whatever was necessary to prevent the beatings. I tried speaking only when spoken to and I tried to say everything exactly right to him, as best I could. I kept everything neat and tidy, but it did not work. It never worked. Apparently, I looked at him wrong or I blinked wrong or something. I was always simply wrong! Any time was a good time for a spanking now - again and again. He still had lots of beer left in the refrigerator and lots of beer left inside of himself.
When Daddy-D finally brought my mother back from spending a day or two with Maw-Maw at the hospital, she told me that my grandmother was getting worse and that things were really bad with her health. I wanted to go see Maw-Maw and to stay with her, but mom said that she was still in the hospital recuperating from a surgery and that I could not go see her. I thought with Mom back home, maybe Guy would not pee on me anymore, like he had been doing the whole time she was away.
I remember wanting to tell her what he did, but I was afraid he would hear me, even if he was not inside the trailer. Guy came inside after small talking with my grandfather, who was leaving now, after dropping off my mother. I heard the engine start and I ran outside. I started crying and I begged Daddy-D to let me go with him. He started waving bye to me! “No! No! Don’t leave,” I cried!
Guy ran out and snatched me up and took me inside the hovel. Through the window, we waved at Daddy-D, and watched him drive off. Then, Guy looked at us and he slammed his beer down on the table. He started questioning Mom. He proceeded to beat up on her, "for leaving that damn baby with me for two ______ nights!" I never forgot anything that happened that day.
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