It has been a year and a half since the #MeToo movement began exposing the world to the insidious reality of sexual abuse and harassment. But one demographic of predator has seemingly slipped through the cracks: female sexual abusers.

Last August, allegations emerged that Asia Argento sexually assaulted a 17-year-old in a hotel room at the Ritz Carlton in Marina Del Rey, Calif. Close enough to Hollywood to be considered ground zero for the #MeToo movement. The accuser’s name was Jimmy Bennett. He played Argento’s son in The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, a film that she co-wrote and directed when he was only eight years old. She claims it was mutual. He says she abused a position of trust and authority to coerce him into sex. She also happens to be one of the first voices of the #MeToo movement and an alleged victim of Harvey Weinstein. Some will use this as an excuse to attack the credibility of survivors, if not the cause itself. I would rather take this as an opportunity to expand it. To widen its scope to include male victims of female abusers. Victims like me.

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In the summer of 2016, a year before #MeToo went viral, I was in couples counselling. My marriage was on the verge of imploding and I was in a dark place. Donald Trump was campaigning for president. I don’t recall the exact moment it came back to me, but I had a flashback — a snapshot that felt too real to shake. Rather than going away, it grew. A felt sensation of physical form. Therapy with my wife gave way to therapy with my childhood demons. Gradually I pieced together the fragments of my shattered past and uncovered the horrible truth. Over the decades I had sensed the incongruity, the aberration behind the curtain. The thingthat had loomed over me my entire life. I had been sexually abused when I was four years old by my teenaged neighbour. Her sister babysat me and helped her cover it up on one occasion.

Sexual abuse is something that occurs in secret. Its continuation depends on the silence of its victims. There is no distinction between the refugees left in the wake of its arbitrary destruction. Whether one is abused by a male or a female, the consequences are just as devastating. And that is why it is so important for male survivors of female abusers to take this moment and add themselves to the tally of those affected by sexual abuse. Until now they haven’t. Not because they don’t exist but because society has not been ready to hear them.

That would require an uncomfortable reshuffling of gender stereotypes. It’s far easier to relegate sexual predators to the ranks of drunken frat boys, Hollywood moguls and creepy men in white panel vans. It’s a lot scarier to imagine a teenage girl enticing a child playing outside on a sunny summer day into her home with the promise of games, only to sexually abuse him in a closet, as happened to me. It was the extinction event of my childhood, sending shockwaves through the rest of my life. It took 30 years to deal with the trauma. It’s a stain that never leaves. A shadow that darkens the sunniest day.

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Sadly, mine is not a unique story. Nor are female sexual abusers. It is easier to pretend that babysitters have no ulterior motives or that teachers are only interested in the minds of their pupils. It is difficult to imagine a female Bill Cosby or a female Harvey Weinstein. But female sexual predators and pedophiles do exist and the trauma they inflict is real and life destroying.

So why aren’t more men and boys coming forward with their stories? Look no further than the disgraceful treatment of Jimmy Bennett on Italy’s Outside the Arena TV show. His trauma was reduced to a question of “Did you finish?” They might as well have patted him on the back and congratulated him for his abuse. This mentality is rooted in our subconscious. The paradigm of male strength and superiority is so steeped in our culture and media it may as well form the foundations of our society. Men are the stronger sex. Men always want sex. Men are not emotional. Men are supposed to be stoic and silent. They are not supposed to feel hurt or vulnerable. The apex of this line of thinking is called toxic masculinity. Like a malignant cancer, it disrupts the system and attacks any trace of perceived weakness in men.

Every survivor struggles to be heard. Female accusers are slut-shamed and called gold-digging liars. Their credibility and motives are questioned and attacked. Male survivors of female abusers on the other hand often don’t even get that far. They are dismissed ipso facto. If they aren’t dismissed, then their trauma is downplayed and minimized because a female abuser is seen as being “less bad” than a male one. Female predators are still taboo. Imagine if people’s first response to hearing you were the victim of sexual abuse was to say: “Well, at least it wasn’t a man.” Or worse yet, to congratulate you for it. Imagine if your abuse was viewed as some sick affirmation of your manhood. Reverse roles for a moment and imagine telling a female survivor that she got lucky.

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So, men keep it to themselves. They bury it deep inside behind layers of armour and try to forget it ever happened. They find unhealthy coping mechanisms through alcohol, drugs, eating disorders, pornography, sex and work addiction. Anything to numb the pain and forget. Anything to exert some form of control. They kill themselves figuratively and literally to escape a reality they can scarcely describe because men aren’t taught to communicate or be open or self-reflect or simply be what they are not supposed to be: human.

I write this from a place of recovery thanks in no small part to the support of my wife, my family and the incredible work of my therapist. It took a long time to find someone who could help me with my issues. Sexual abuse has ripple effects throughout your life and relationships. It robs you of safety, security, self-worth, meaningful connections, intimacy, and even your cognitive abilities. It steals fathers from children, husbands from partners, children from childhood and men from themselves. You don’t just brush yourself off and move on. It took me a year and a half of intensive therapy to get to a place not filled with anxiety, rage, despair, dissociative episodes and thoughts of suicide. It was worth the battle.

Women have shown amazing solidarity and support for one another through this. Men, on the other hand, have been almost mute — stoically swallowing our emotions and suffering in silence. It’s time for male survivors of female abusers to come forward and join the chorus of those reclaiming their lives from the wreckage of sexual abuse. It’s time we move past the mythology. It’s time to acknowledge that men can be victims and that not all predators come with an XY chromosome.

The author has chosen to remain anonymous to protect his privacy.