My story is not as bad as many others’ because I was lucky enough to have friends who told me what happened to them when they confessed to sexual “sins” and abuse. Growing up it was an open secret that if you told your bishop you did anything sexual, he would interrogate you with questions like “Did he digitally penetrate you? How many fingers? Did you orgasm?” I was horrified the first time I heard, but after hearing many other friends’ accounts, the questions basically the same, I knew I would never confess anything to my bishop. It was even worse for my friends who had suffered sexual abuse and assault. They got asked the same questions that you got if you had “sinned,” and it was really traumatic for them. After I was sexually assaulted, I was pressured to talk to my bishop about it, but I did not because I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle him asking all the details and treating me like I was the one who sinned. I also did not go to my bishop because he was constantly harassing me and making sexually suggestive comments about my appearance. Every time I saw him, he would tell me how pretty I was. I tried to pass it off as him being sweet and awkward, but his comments became much less innocent over time. He would invite me into his office while everyone else was in class. I remember feeling singled out and embarrassed the many times he did this. He would have me sit down and every time would tell me something like “You are so pretty, Madison” and then tell me how all the boys at school were going to try to do “inappropriate” things with me. But it was never left vague, he always would specify that a boy would (for example) try to get me into his car and park with me and start “heavy necking,” and how I should call him if they tried. This happened for over two years, starting before I’d even kissed anyone. It made me feel scared and targeted and ashamed, and contributed to the desire for self harm and sometimes suicide that occurred every Sunday.
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