My brother and sister, both more than nine years older than me, were sexually abused by our father before his death. That haunting fact destroyed almost all the light from my childhood. It destroyed my mother. I was spared our father’s abuse, but some of my earliest memories are of being sexually abused by my brother, for about two years, until he ran away from home. I rarely saw him again; he died a few years ago.
When our mother died, my sister took me in. I was still a teenager. I felt indebted to her, but she made it clear that she thought I “got off easy” and resented me for it. Our relationship has left little room for my own pain — I’ve never felt permitted to discuss our mother’s death, let alone my own trauma. I know her attitude toward me is the result of an unhealed wound, so I’ve tried not to take it personally.
I kept my brother’s abuse a secret until years into my marriage, when the burden became unbearable. For 25 years, I protected my mother, my sister, my brother and others by hiding this shame, which should never have been mine to carry. Now, on my healing journey, I long to share my story with someone I love who might understand what this abuse has cost me — the broken parts of myself, the life it stole. I want that person to be my sister.
But our complicated relationship makes me fear her reaction: What if she doesn’t believe me? What if she pushes me further away or hates me for tarnishing her last good memories of our brother? What if she blames herself? Part of me still wants to shield her from this painful truth. Does my sister have a right to know? Do I have a right to be fully seen by my family? What truths must we face, and when is the price of truth too high? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
I’m so sorry for what you and your siblings have endured. You mention a healing journey, which suggests you may already be working with a professional therapist. If not, I would encourage you to seek that support. These questions — about what to share, whom to protect and how to make sense of your experience — are best explored with someone who knows you and your history in real depth.
As for the ethics of disclosure, I generally lean toward candor, especially with those closest to us. People cannot make sense of their lives if they’re kept in the dark. But the central figures in this episode — your parents and your brother — are gone. For your sister, what remains are memories, not continuing relationships. That might suggest, at first glance, that it’s too late for this particular truth to be of use to her.
At the same time, she does have a living relationship with you. And relationships are shaped as much by the stories we withhold as by the ones we tell. Your sister’s misapprehension that you “got off easy” has marred your bond. If there’s even a modest chance that sharing the truth leads to understanding, it’s probably worth trying.
And if your sister’s response is disappointing? The value of speaking the truth shouldn’t depend entirely on how she takes it. “Teach us to care and not to care,” T.S. Eliot wrote in his poem “Ash Wednesday.” You can act with love and intention while holding your expectations lightly — not staking your sense of self on your sister’s reaction.
If you do choose to speak with her, express your gratitude for her support after your mother’s death, and approach the conversation with gentleness, for both of you. It might also be wise to involve your therapist — not just in deciding how to proceed but perhaps in also being present for the first conversation.
Whatever you decide, I hope you find the support you need as you move forward. We can’t banish suffering from the world, but with kindness and a little understanding, we may be able to keep it from turning into bitterness.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a male reader asking about whether to share the story of a past relationship with a man who is now a prominent politician and denies being gay. He wrote: “Many years ago, I had a brief relationship with another young man. We had sex once, and he wanted to continue but asked me to keep it secret because he was in politics. I was a hotheaded gay activist, and I refused on principle, ending the affair. He went on to become one of the most prominent politicians in his country. He was a single man for a long time, but when asked about his sexuality he denied being gay. He eventually married a woman and lives a putatively heterosexual life.
“I am a writer. Is what happened between us my story to tell, or is it his story to (still) hide?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Why now, after all this time? What would you hope to gain from this disclosure? … Is what moves you a belated desire for recognition? … Sexual intimacy presupposes a measure of respect for the privacy of those involved. Would your brief encounter have occurred had you announced in advance that you felt free to publish the names of your sexual partners? And there’s an ethical weight that comes with holding in your hands another person’s private life, or an episode of it, anyway. … Do you really have good reason to change course and stop honoring the intimacy of your youthful affair?
“Once a story like this reaches the media, especially social media, it can spiral far beyond your control. … You can send a story out into the world, but you can’t call it home.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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I think the real question the writer needs to ask is: “What kind of person do I want to be?” The individual in question engaged in a one-time interaction without deception, hostility or malice. Sharing this story now could cause significant harm to someone who has chosen to keep that part of their life private. No one has the right to inflict cruelty under the guise of truth-telling. — Alison
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He may not consider himself to be gay. Sexuality is often a bit fluid, and it is not someone’s whole identity. How you label yourself is your own choice — bisexual, heterosexual, homosexual — these are all just positions on a spectrum with no clear boxes. — Paula
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Unless this man would be putting his former liaison in personal danger, he certainly has a right to talk about it. If the person is a public figure and is lying, then he would be exposing him as a hypocrite. Hooking up with someone does not bind them to secrecy for life about what happened between you and them, unless you took a mutual vow. If the man who sought your advice were writing a memoir, then it his story to tell. I would ask permission before naming my former partners. But if they were famous and out there denying who they are, I’d be inclined to name them. — Andy
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What does he think is going to happen? Nothing good, that’s for sure. It may ruin the political career of the man and end his marriage. More than likely his accusation will be weaponized against him in social media for years to come, which could result in severe negative consequences. Harboring vengeance for some perceived slight that occurred years ago is no way to go through life. — James
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Despite the advances made so far, some people still do feel they must hide their homosexuality. The “hiders” are among the victims. In the war against oppression, not every victim is up for the battle. That’s how oppression works. Please keep fighting the good fight, but don’t force another gay person to become a sacrificial lamb on the altar of progress. — Genevieve
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People are bisexual. People are experimental. People do not always want to continue with their experiments in life. Why try to cause issues for a person who maybe respected you but did not intend to ever encounter you again? Don’t let anger or regret or other emotions become involved. Forget it live and let live. — Deborah
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected].
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