By: Charlotte Lozano Blackmore
I was born on April 26th into a very dysfunctional family. I was abused from the moment I took my first breath. My mother, who was over 300 pounds, a diabetic, and had long blondish hair, had nine children at this time: one boy and the rest of us girls. Later she had two more: one girl and then a boy. My oldest brother died at 14 months from starvation, so she kept having children until she finally had my little brother. The man listed on my birth certificate may not have actually been my father because she slept with a lot of men. The man on my birth certificate was a drug addict and had schizophrenia because he was on too many drugs. He died a very difficult death at 49 years old. My mother did not get appropriate medical care while she was pregnant with me, so due to her complicated health issues, I was born a huge baby of 12 lbs. I couldn’t breathe when I was born, so I ended up with cerebral palsy caused by brain damage.
For the first four years of my life, I was starved, beaten, electrocuted, burned, set on fire, and abandoned in the hospital. My mother never came back to get me because she would have had to explain all the bruises, marks, and burns. Nobody in my biological family wanted custody of me because I was disabled. So, after being in the hospital for eight months with third-degree burns, I was placed in the foster care system.
The first foster home had good foster parents, but their home was temporary. When I was six years old, I had to go to a new place. This mother and father had three biological boys, but the mother desperately wanted a girl so that’s how I ended up with them. I was abused by the father and oldest son physically, sexually, and emotionally. Eventually, the father called CPS to come pick me up because he no longer wanted to care for me due to my disability. In many other foster homes, abuse became a daily thing. When I spoke out about the abuse, I would just be moved to new homes. Finally, at ten years old after feeling so unwanted CPS found me a new home with a single lady who had no kids. She chose to adopt me.
In the beginning of living with my new adopted mom, everything seemed to be OK. Eventually though, life became a nightmare again: she began selling me to her pedophile stepdad for a little extra money. I was basically his sex toy. First, it started with him fondling me and sticking things into me. He thought that if there was no penal penetration, that he was preserving my virginity. Then, my adopted mom also let her boyfriend touch me and he came close to raping me at 15 yrs old. He beat me, tied me down, and starved me like a sex slave. When I was 16 years old, I had had enough and ran away. I was almost raped two different times on the streets, but I escaped.
When I ran away I ended up in downtown Long Beach, CA. I was on the streets for about one to two days before I met a double amputee man who seemed harmless. He offered to let me stay in his camp so I foolishly did for about four days. The fourth day he tried to touch me in his camper which resided at a junkyard. I started to bolt, but the owner’s son at the junkyard saw me and called for help. The older man showed up at the junkyard and slowly talked me into coming to his house. I went with him because I had nowhere to go. I figured if he killed me I’d be better off, but if he tried to touch me I’d fight him even if it meant I’d lose my life. It was the best thing I could have done because he saved me by convincing me I was wanted on earth. I lived in his silver trailer for about four days. He liked to help troubled kids by giving them a safe haven until he could find them better care. He witnessed my bruises and the other guy in the camper told him about my whip slashes on the back of my legs.
After four days living in his nice silver trailer he had his female friend, a restaurant owner, come pick me up so I could live in her house and be a nanny for her grandkids. But again I was unsafe: her drunk son tried to hold me down and rape me, he was always trying to touch me. I stayed there for six months until I left one morning because I couldn’t take it anymore. I called a friend from high school to see if I could crash at her house. My so called best friend called my adopted mom to let her know our meeting place because she was offered money, candy, and flowers as a reward for finding me. The police showed up at our meeting place.
I told the officers what my adopted mom, her boyfriend and her stepdad had been doing, but they never believed me. I was violently handcuffed and thrown on the police car’s hood saying I was a liar and that I was harming my adopted mom. I was thrown in jail for 24 hours, then put into a youth facility where I was told everything was my fault. By this time, I was old enough to become emancipated under the conditions that I work, pay rent and bills like an adult, go to therapy with my adopted mom as well as individual therapy, and attend school and family events to work on making amends with her family. Quickly, I graduated from high school and began working. For a moment, I was free from the torture of abuse and it felt amazing.
After graduating high school, I signed up for college classes and worked full time. I did a lot of volunteering at homeless shelters. As soon as I was tasting freedom, my adopted mom went back to court behind my back and convinced the judge that I wasn’t making healthy decisions and that I had psychological issues. My adopted mom still had control of me and was trying to be the guardian of my money. I had had so many horrific things happen to me up to that point, but what happened next just about destroyed me.
This one morning started like any other: I got up and started getting ready to work a ten hour shift. I lived in a small one bedroom house with a tiny backyard and front yard. The house was small, but I felt so safe and proud I was able to live on my own. After work, I was looking forward to coming home to relax for the night. What I didn’t know was that my adopted mom’s step dad and his wife were in town. I had managed to avoid the monster when I started living on my own. However, I had run into him a few times at family gatherings where he continued to try to touch me and started to threaten me by saying that he would eventually make me into a young woman by taking my virginity. I escaped time and time again and decided to not attend family gatherings when he was there.
That night though after unlocking the door, I came in and took my coat off. I went over to the sink to get a glass of water and noticed there were dishes in the sink. This was strange because I always washed my dishes, as I prefer to have a super clean house. I walked into my bedroom and before I even turned on the light, someone grabbed me. I was scared out of my mind. He intentionally took my strong arm (the one not affected by Cerebral Palsy) and I couldn’t fight back. The next thing I knew my clothes were being ripped off and something was being shoved in my mouth. My hands were tied together and my back was facing the monster. I was stripped naked and trying to scream my head off when I heard the all too familiar voice of the monster: my adopted mom’s step father. He was ready to take what he’d been wanting.
Then he threw me on the bed. I tried to fight, cry, and scream, but could do next to nothing with my hands tied. He had his fun touching me then whispered to me, “I’ve been waiting to make you mine.” He then took the only thing left that I still had from years of torture: my virginity. Once he was done he untied me and thanked me for making me his. When he left I curled up in a fetal position and became hysterical. I didn’t go to work for a few days and was so frightened he’d come back that I just laid on my couch sobbing. I couldn’t sleep in that room anymore and had horrible nightmares.
Four weeks later, I found out the monster got me pregnant and my world was turned upside down. I moved out of that house three weeks later. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I was two months pregnant, but with the nightmares and stress I had a miscarriage. I started going to therapy to try and work through the many horrible abuses of my past and this recent rape. My adopted mom kept threatening to prove I was mentally ill, so I would be forced to return home to be her cleaning slave. She told me I better do what she said or my life will be torcher. In fear, I went to clean her house.
I was very scared of her and felt very vulnerable not listening to her. She threatened me with deadly harm numerous times. She somehow through psychological therapy managed to convince me in front of them I was not stable, and everything was always my fault. So, I agreed to clean her house. I turned on music and went to clean her bathroom. I just wanted to get this done quickly and get out. While I was on my knees and cleaning the bathtub, I was grabbed again by the monster. What he did to me was very traumatic. Four weeks later, I found out I was pregnant again. I lost the second baby through an infection that almost killed me.
By this point, I was very depressed and attempted to kill myself. Luckily, my friend saved me.
By this time, I had met a true friend who agreed to let me stay with her and her mom. I stayed with her for four years. Her family gave me the love, kindness, care, and joy that I had been craving. She taught me to speak up for myself and let me talk to her about all the things I had to endure. She gave me emotional support as well as physical support. Between her and her mom I felt so free and so loved because they didn’t judge me. Instead, they encouraged me to be my own person without guilt. They let me express myself, feel real love by showing me how to trust feelings, as well as how to embrace love from others and believe my thoughts and feelings counted. I gained confidence in myself and started expressing my feelings like I had never done before. Through their love, I was able to find myself.
Finally, when I was 26, I met my first love. He gave me the attention I craved at first. He was my best friend’s brother from high school. We connected so well. He grew up with an alcoholic father who was terrible to his mom. Eventually, his mom threw his dad out. He had a difficult time coping with these traumas. I got pregnant accidentally and had a son, who became the best gift I had ever received. Eventually he cheated on me. I was 26 years old when I had my son. Our son was three months old when I found out, so I moved up north with my adopted grandma (her husband, the monster, had died four years earlier).
Eventually, I met my husband at his part-time job as a car part store manager. He purposely ordered my brake part four times so that I’d keep coming to the store so he could get the guts to ask me out on a date. We dated for a long time and he was very good to my son. Long story short he became an amazing stepdad to my son. Not only did we get married, but we had our daughter when I was 35 years. Unfortunately, welost three more babies to miscarriage. We had our ups and downs as a couple, but are now a strong team together. He not only makes me feel special, but shows me that not everyone is evil or psycho like my adopted mom and most of her family.
My husband taught me to no longer be afraid and to put my needs first. He taught me to not let him or anyone else control my life because I was in charge of my own life.Since I’ve been married to him, I took control of my own thoughts, beliefs, and opinions. As my husband jokes in a loving way, “I opened up a can of worms and now she kicks ass to those who try to dare control her.” Eventually, I was able to cut my abusive step mother out of my life.
It took me years to be where I’m at now because I believed I was guilty of letting all the abuse happen. I believed for many years that I did something bad to deserve it. Starting at a young age I wanted her or the monsters or both to kill me so I wouldn’t feel like a disgusting and pathetic broke girl who was damaged. Do I feel that way now? After years of help through my husband, therapy, and good friends, I don’t feel that way anymore.
I became passionate about working on anti-bullying programs, disability awareness, and services for abused foster kids and homeless families. Then, after my daughter had been sexually abused by her peers, I got involved with Casa, an organization for teens and children abused physically and sexually. I wanted to wake up the world and let them know what can happen with your kids. So I went around schools all over California teaching good touch and bad touch plus taught them not to be afraid to tell when something didn’t feel right.
Eventually, I started my own organization called Voice for Charlotte. I have also published three books that share my story. I hope my story can help others know that they can become survivors not victims. I dream of a world with NO victims ever. I want to inspire others so much and hopefully I can help someone in someway through this journey I had to go through.
Charlotte Lozano Blackmore is the founder of Voice for Charlotte. She’s a successful author, activist, and mentor. She seeks to help survivors find their voices by sharing how she beat the odd’s as an abused person with a disability raised in the foster care system. Today, she knows that her children and her are loved so much. She is honored to welcome you to her story.