From Silence to Voice: Preventing Abuse In The Frum Community

My Story! לא תעמוד על דם רעך

My name is Leiby. I grew up in Rockland County, the youngest of seven. On the surface, my childhood seemed okay, but I always felt like I didn’t belong.

On September 11, 2001-the day of the deadliest terrorist attack in U.S. history-I experienced my own personal terror.

There was a well-known man in the community, someone powerful and respected. I went to him for advice, feeling confused and scared. His son let me into the house. That day, I met the man-who turned out to be a monster. He abused me.

For the sake of readers, I won’t describe what happened. It’s too graphic. But that abuse lasted for five long, unbearable years.

Finally, about a month after my bar mitzvah, I came home very late one night. My mother asked where I had been. I told her everything. She broke down in tears, hugged me, and told me, “Never, ever go back to him.”

The next day, I went to one of the town’s official rabbis. He believed me and told me the same thing: “Don’t go back.” About a year later, I even went to the chief rabbi’s house. He did absolutely nothing.

Two years later, I moved to Brooklyn and enrolled in a new school. I was incredibly lucky to attend an amazing high school/yeshiva. There, I connected deeply with two incredible rabbi/teachers who supported me. They were more than educators-they were mentors who truly cared.

After I graduated, I made a decision: I would go to the police. I wanted to arrest the man who had abused me and bring him to justice. Unfortunately, he was let off. But people still believed me-and that made a difference.

Let me be clear: I’m not writing this for sympathy or empathy. That’s not why I’m telling my story.

I’m writing because something must change-urgently-in our communities.

We need to raise awareness about child abuse. We need to talk about it openly with our families, in a healthy, honest way. One of the biggest reasons victims stay silent is because they fear they won’t be believed. And sadly, they’re often right.

It breaks my heart to hear stories from other survivors-stories told in whispers, in silence, in fear. It’s easier for people to pretend abuse doesn’t exist than to face it head-on. But that silence protects predators, not children.

I’m not here to point fingers or assign blame. That’s not my purpose. I’m here to say: it’s time.

It’s time to believe our innocent victims. It’s time to talk about abuse-not in whispers, but out loud. It’s time to take a stand.

Today, I ask you to do one thing that makes a difference. Speak up. Listen. Learn. Protect.

If you’d like to contact me, please reach out through FrumNews.