When we were kids (GenX) there was a popular song in heavy rotation on the radio. "Hey. Teachers. Leave those kids alone." -Pink Floyd Sadly, I was
When we were kids (GenX) there was a popular song in heavy rotation on the radio.
“Hey. Teachers. Leave those kids alone.”
-Pink Floyd
Sadly, I was not naive to how evil and wicked people -who seem so ordinary otherwise- can be towards children,
but even I had no idea…..
This has to be said plainly, because boys are being harmed under the cover of silence.
What is happening to Black and brown boys when grown women—women who know their ages, who teach them, supervise them, see their birthdates on rosters and report cards—cross sexual boundaries with them is not romance, not temptation, not confusion.
It is adultification.
It is grooming.
It is abuse.
And the way the world responds tells the truth.
A child’s face blurred for “privacy,”
but his shirt pulled off in the story photo.
A boy’s name hidden,
but his body put on display—
muscles emphasized, posture framed, puberty turned into an alibi?
As if a growing body cancels a growing brain.
As if melanin and muscle grant consent.
As if being Black or brown makes a child older, sturdier, less harmed.
This is a lie that has been told for generations, and it is killing something precious.
These boys are not “mature for their age.”
They are not “lucky.”
They are not responsible for the desires of adults who had years, power, authority, and full knowledge—and chose to ignore every line they were sworn not to cross.
Biological curiosity is not consent.
Admiration is not permission.
A child responding to attention is not the same as a child initiating harm.
When an adult woman exploits a boy and the narrative shifts to his body, his curiosity, his supposed maturity, what is really happening is this:
Responsibility is being dragged down the hallway and laid at a child’s feet because it is more comfortable than naming an adult’s betrayal.
And boys absorb that.
They grow up believing:
I should have known better.
I wanted it.
My body betrayed me.
My manhood began with shame.
That is not strength.
That is not initiation.
That is trauma dressed up as “experience.”
We need change—not the loud, punishing kind that forgets the child afterward—but the deep, corrective kind that says:
Boys deserve protection, not reinterpretation.
Boundaries protect children of every sex.
Adults are responsible for their restraint, always.
Compassion for these boys means telling them the truth without hesitation:
What happened was not your fault.
Your body did not invite harm.
Your curiosity was not a crime.
You were a child, and the adult failed you.
Ending this requires clarity.
Clarity in language.
Clarity in media.
Clarity in communities and schools and homes.
Stop sexualizing children to soften adult wrongdoing.
Stop treating Black and brown boys as if they are born halfway grown.
Stop confusing exploitation with validation.
To the boys who were groomed and then blamed:
Your life is not defined by what someone took from you.
Your worth was never up for negotiation.
And to the women reading this—especially those who are tired of watching harm get renamed and repackaged—remember this:
You do not need permission to see manipulation.
You do not need approval to protect children.
You do not need silence to keep the peace.
Drawing boundaries, telling the truth, and insisting on protection does not weaken humanity.
It preserves it.