This diary may be considered a complement to this diary, which was prompted by a comment from a man who had never met a rapist in his 50 years of life. It started me thinking that maybe my extra 8 years of life have broadened my circle of acquaintances. You see, one of my childhood friends was a serial rapist.
I was 15 years old when it sank in that my friend Kenny (not his real name) was a serial rapist. It was the summer of 1971 and I lived in an all white working class neighborhood in Michigan. A girl I liked, Lucy (name also changed), who was 14 at the time, told me one day that she had gotten married to Kenny a few days earlier. Twice. I asked what she meant and she told me.
First, a little background on Kenny. He was 18 and a hoodlum. That was not unusual in my neighborhood. My oldest brother, Mickey, was a member of a motorcycle gang and had been in and out of juvenile detention, county lockup, and ultimately, the state prison at Jackson. In fact, the only photo I have of Mickey as an adult is from his prison ID. Both of my other brothers spent time locked up, too. I was the white sheep of the family. I never went to prison.
But back to Kenny. He owned a motorcycle. He was very athletic, good at baseball and football. And for a small guy, maybe 5' 9" and 150 pounds, he was one heck of a fighter. In some ways, he was like another big brother, because he looked out for me in a tough neighborhood that wasn't always kind to bookish nerds like me. He helped protect me when my brother Mickey was in prison and later on, too, after Mickey was shot to death. Kenny also knew how to throw a kickass party and he was a good source for scoring dope. Anything from grass to heroin.
As I mentioned, Kenny had a motorcycle. And that's where the story Lucy told me starts: With a motorcycle ride.
If you're familiar with the rapper Eminem, you've heard of 8 Mile Road, which is the northern border of Detroit. Although I was born in Detroit and spent part of my childhood in the Charles Terrace housing project, my family had moved up in the world by the time of this incident. All the way to 9 Mile Road. Anyhow, Kenny took Lucy for a ride on his bike and they ended up some 35 miles or so north of 9 Mile. Way out in the boondocks back then. And Kenny pulled a "Put Out or Get Out" (POGO) on Lucy.
POGO is where a guy takes a girl for a ride in his car, or his motorcycle in Kenny's case, to a remote area and threatens to leave her there unless she provides sex. No gun, no knife, no beating necessary. Simply a choice. Between sex or possible death at the hands of strangers while walking 35 miles home. Lucy decided to surrender her virginity. Another name for POGO is rape. Maybe Republicans wouldn't consider it to be "legitimate" rape, but sane people would.
I'd heard rumors about guys who did that to girls. It was a kind of an urban legend back in the day. I'd even heard whispers that Kenny had done it, and more than once, but I didn't really believe those whispers until Lucy told me about her experience.
Shortly after hearing her story, I left her house and never went back.
Here's why, I think. When I was seven years old, I'd been molested by my older sister. It was no big deal and I quickly put it behind me. I mean, other than suddenly going from A+ student to hardcore troublemaker constantly in the principal's office. The forced trip to the psychiatrist. Oh, and that other thing, where I was an emotional zombie until I was in my 20s. So basically, no aftereffects. As long as I didn't think about it. Surely Lucy would be fine, too, and I wished her well.
I'd like to say that I told Kenny off and refused to have anything further to do with him, but I'd be lying. We stayed friends of sorts, although not nearly as close as before. Two summers later I was a seventeen year old high school grad doing Army boot camp in Fort Knox, Kentucky. On my way to a better life thanks to military training and the GI bill.
I'm sure you're expecting a happy ending to this story but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I never saw Lucy again. I don't know what happened to her, although I do know that her older sister was involved in a "train" (multiple guys lining up to have sex with her) this one time while she was having her period and it got kind of messy and grossed the boys out. A little. Not a gang rape per se, as she was a willing participant. Willing to have sex with multiple boys in exchange for acceptance and a little affection. Perhaps she'd even been POGO'd when she was younger. Those are the kind of things that went on in my neighborhood and, I suspect, many other neighborhoods across America.
As for Kenny, well, in his early twenties he cheated a biker gang on a dope deal and his dismembered body, garnished with hacked off penis stuffed in his mouth, was discovered in four plastic garbage bags left at curbside for the garbage man. Poetic justice, some might say. Perhaps so. And Lucy, if you're still out there somewhere, please forgive me for not being a good enough friend. You deserved better.