(Logan Gifford) – This year, I stood before a Clark County family court judge and asked a question I’ve carried since I was a teenager: Is my younger brother also my son?
That question exists because I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.
When I was 10, my mother began sexually abusing me. That abuse continued for seven years.
I reported it at 16. She was charged with sexual assault of a minor and incest.
She took an Alford plea to attempted sexual assault charges. On paper, that’s a victory.
In reality, it represents a fundamental failure in how our justice system treats male survivors.
Nearly 1 in 6 boys experience sexual abuse before age 18—that’s the reported number.
The real number is higher.
Boys are five times less likely to disclose abuse than girls, not because it hurts less, but because when we speak up, we’re met with confusion, disbelief, or worse.
The uncomfortable truth: Women abuse children, too.
Studies show women commit approximately 14% of sex crimes against boys, yet receive sentences 30-40% shorter than male offenders for similar offenses.
Only about 1% of imprisoned sex offenders are female, suggesting massive undercharging.
The myth that women can’t be predators—that maternal instinct protects children—isn’t just a misconception.
It’s a get-out-of-jail-free card for perpetrators.
When I came forward, I faced disbelief. Abuse by a female perpetrator, particularly by a mother, doesn’t fit most people’s narrative about sexual violence.
Up to 36% of child trafficking victims are boys. Yet only 15% of trafficking shelters have programs for male survivors.
Boys are labeled “runaways” and “troubled kids.” We criminalize their trauma. We miss the cause entirely.
An Alford plea allows a defendant to maintain innocence while accepting punishment.
For survivors, the person who harmed you never truly accounts for what they did.
Worse, I was excluded from critical decisions about plea negotiations.
The system treated me as evidence, not as a stakeholder in my own accountability.
Years later, when it became clear my younger brother might be my biological son, born during the years I was being assaulted, I pursued a court case to secure his future legally.
Our family courts proved catastrophically unprepared to handle the intersection of sexual abuse, paternity, and guardianship when male survivors are involved.
Nevada needs immediate changes.
Train everyone who works with children to recognize male victims—law enforcement, CPS workers, teachers, and doctors.
Our protocols are designed for female victims. That’s not good enough.
Mandatory victim input in plea negotiations before non-admission pleas are accepted.
Judicial training on trauma and non-traditional abuse dynamics.
Eliminate gender bias in investigations.
Fund trauma-informed services specifically for boys.
Mandate genetic testing in incest cases.
I’ve spent my adult life trying to rebuild what was broken.
I’m married. I’m raising the boy who might be my brother, might be my son, but is definitely the person I love most.
I’m giving him the childhood I never had. That’s my healing. But it’s not justice.
Justice is fixing the system so no other kid has to survive what I survived. I didn’t survive because the system worked.
I survived, despite the system. I got lucky.
But luck isn’t a strategy, and children shouldn’t have to fight this hard to protect themselves.
These reforms aren’t revolutionary.
They’re basic accountability measures—acknowledging male survivors exist, that our experiences matter, and that justice should treat us with care equal to any other victim.
What happened to me in my family was a tragedy.
What happened to me in the justice system was a choice—to proceed without adequately centering my voice or my needs.
That’s a choice we can change. Nevada can lead on this.
We can acknowledge what the data shows: male survivors are common, our cases are often mishandled, and reform is both possible and necessary.
If my story can open doors that wouldn’t otherwise be accessible, then the most complex parts of my life can serve a purpose beyond my own survival.
That’s what accountability looks like. That’s what justice delayed finally becoming justice served looks like.
And that’s worth fighting for.
The opinions expressed by contributors are their own and do not necessarily represent the views of Nevada News & Views.
