I was never a terribly happy child in elementary school. I was beat up for being “smart” and relegated to helping staple papers because I already understood the differences between the letters A, B and C.

Any action taken to reduce the number of children who are sexually assaulted is a step in the right direction. (Hello Turkey Toe, Creative Commons)

That is, until Ms. Cook entered my world. Ms. Cook was a substitute for Mrs. Alvarez—my usual teacher—for three days in second grade while Mrs. Alvarez was out getting Botox. 

In her three days of substitution for Mrs. Alvarez, Ms. Cook managed to make me genuinely happy in school. She offered me new assignments and questions, listened to my answers, and even brought special science toys for me to play with. I was happy. Unlike Mrs. Alvarez, who was a mean, rude and uncaring teacher, Ms. Cook seemed to actually care about my wellbeing. 

Which is why, when she told me she had a special surprise to show me during lunch on her last day there, I was excited. I was expecting some new experiment or knowledge that I could actually apply to my daily existence.

In a way, I got was I was hoping for: during lunchtime on Friday November 2nd, 2001, Ms. Cook raped me in room 202. I was seven.

It has been more than a decade since that happened, and while I don’t like to say that it’s been a defining moment in my life—because who wants to be defined as a seven-year-old rape victim—it has. I hate it, and I hate Ms. Cook.

But that’s not what this is about.

To everyone who knows me, I’m a normal person. I’m involved, passionate, well-spoken and, by most standards, successful as an undergraduate. I talk about sex like everyone else, and share my feelings—perhaps slightly less than most, but nothing out of the ordinary—like everyone else.  I am, for all practical matters, well-rounded and well-adjusted.

This isn’t true, however. In fact, quite the opposite is true. When I see my peers blundering through haphazard romances, one-night-stands and romantic relationships, I can’t help but feel a deep envy, mixed with an extraordinary amount of want—a want to be normal. 

Because of Ms. Cook’s actions, I have an extraordinarily difficult time trusting anybody in a remotely sexual context. I am repressed, extremely, and while I do enough thinking about sex, I’m afraid to ever act on any of these thoughts, both because I don’t want to be a Ms. Cook for someone else and because I’m afraid of another Ms. Cook.

These thoughts are not right. I know that I am not Ms. Cook. But despite that knowledge, I have never touched or been touched by anyone other than Ms. Cook. I have never kissed anyone other than Ms. Cook, and I have never seen a woman naked, other than Ms. Cook. 

But again: that’s not what this is about. Everything before this sentence is foundational—an attempt to keep those who will read and inevitably comment on this article at bay.

My point in writing this is neither for pity, nor to ask for help, but instead to defend the American Psychiatric Association’s classification of pedophilia as a legitimate sexual interest. 

While I do not want to dissect the semantics of the word “interest,” I do believe Ms. Cook was attracted to me sexually. I believe her actions are deplorable, but her orgasm and her drive to rape me are indicative of something more.

Her attraction to me was real; I have no doubt. And while her actions and words are inexcusable, it does make me believe that there are people in our world who, like Ms. Cook, are sexually attracted to children. 

I am not a pedophile, but I sympathize with those who are sexually attracted to children. I sympathize with the pain of wanting to express yourself, but not being able to. I sympathize with the feeling of being completely misunderstood and lost in a world that seems so caught up in fucking and exploring your sexuality.

This is not me saying that it’s okay to act on these desires. I will never forgive Ms. Cook for what she did to me and I am in no way condoning sex with children. Children cannot consent. I would know. 

But I do believe that the sheer volume of children raped and molested everywhere is evidence that there are individuals in our world who are sexually attracted to children, and that we as a society need to accept these people as more than just “sick, twisted fucks.”

What Ms. Cook did to me is sick and twisted. Her actions to gain the trust of and then rape a 7-year-old boy are wrong. 

However, this doesn’t change the fact that there are people who are sexually attracted to children who don’t act on their urges. For these people, I am sorry, and I can only hope that you may get the assistance that you need. 

Repression is terrible; I understand that. Does that mean that it’s okay to have sex with kids? Absolutely not, and I am unbelievably sorry and sympathetic for those who are sexually attracted to children, because they cannot express their love in the way that the vast majority of our species does. 

But I do I genuinely believe that the classification of pedophilia as a legitimate psychological state is a step towards helping those who are attracted to children. I can’t honestly say that people who feel this way will ever truly be accepted. But I know that they do need help, and any action taken to reduce the number of children raped and molested is a step in the right direction.