tw: frank discussion of incest, child sexual abuse, and sexual abuse. mentions of physical abuse. discussion of dissociative experiences and dissociative identity disorder.
I am an incest survivor. I am also genuinely sexually attracted to my brother. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
A couple of years ago, before I came to accept myself, I read this book titled, “The Incest Diary”. It’s written by an anonymous author who talks about her life as someone who was sexually abused by her father from a young age. Her life is incredibly difficult. She is deeply ashamed of herself. The people around her do nothing but exploit and encourage that shame. Reading it left me feeling dissociated and despondent.
I don’t blame the author at all. In fact, I think she is incredibly brave for sharing her most intimate feelings with us despite how much she hates herself for them. Her perspective is a valuable one. It’s not her job to give me answers about how to feel. She is powerful just for speaking out.
That being said, I sought out this book because I wanted to feel understood and instead I came away feeling like there was something deeply wrong with me. I was looking for answers, and the answer I found was hate yourself. I related to a lot of what she said, so when she chastised herself for being attracted to her abuser, I felt chastised.
I am writing this to provide a different perspective. My hope is that by offering my story, I can show the positive impact accepting my incestuous feelings has had on my life. After so much pain and shame, I can finally say I love myself. My life is not over just because I want to fuck my brother.
My relationship with my brother was foundational to my sense of self, including my sexuality. Growing up, my brother was my father, my best friend, and my most vicious tormentor. I have many pleasant memories of us sharing a bed, massaging each other, playing video games, and going on insane drug binges.
I have just as many memories of him being violently abusive. He loved to dominate and humiliate me whenever I threatened his ego, which became increasingly difficult to avoid as we got older. When I got a partner, he would compete with them for my attention and then team up with them to mock me. He was, and still is, a genuinely horrible person. Arrogant, argumentative, ignorant, and incompetent.
I estranged myself from him in 2020. It was the best decision I ever made, but it was not easy. I had to sever our connection to survive. I had many opportunities to walk back our estrangement and giving into any feelings of fondness or longing could seriously endanger me.
Not to mention, I was alone. I had already spent years hiding my abuse throughout high school. I knew if people found out he had molested me, I would face further violence from both my family and my peers.
That fear did not subside once I left high school. When I moved, I wanted a fresh start. I expected to receive the same mocking reaction from anyone I told, so of course I kept my feelings hidden.
I was especially disturbed by my incest fetish. I began to realize everything about my sexuality pointed towards the abuse. What would my sexual partners make of that fact? I could not imagine a positive reaction.
I had spent years hiding this from everyone I knew, but my relationship with my brother was the most significant relationship I had ever had. It was impossible to talk about my life without talking about him, and impossible to talk about him without talking about the incest.
In 2022, I started dating my current partner. Being with him, I felt a level of sexual compatibility, understanding, and care I had never experienced before. We were truly kindred spirits.
We made a vow to each other the night we started dating to always be as honest as we could with each other. That dedication to honesty encouraged me to disclose that my brother had molested me. At first, I could only express what had happened through implication, but I became increasingly bold in my disclosures. He always listened to and understood me.
At that point, I was able to acknowledge that my brother abused me, but not the fondness I still felt for him. He was so comically violent towards me, it felt impossible to turn around after telling my boyfriend about how he had beaten, molested, and belittled me and say, yes but I loved him.
But I did! He was a comforting presence. I used to look up to him. He was always a couple milestones ahead of me, and he encouraged me to see him as a better, older version of myself. He would tell me how important our relationship was, how we would always stick together. We shared a sense of humor. We slept in the same bed. He told me he loved me. I loved him.
I was deeply ashamed of these feelings. I disowned them entirely and would not acknowledge them, even to myself.
This would cause them to slip out when I least expected it. I would accidentally call my boyfriend by my brother’s name. It mortified me, especially when it happened during or after sex. Even if I managed to stop myself from saying it aloud, I would catch myself referring to my boyfriend as my brother in my head.
The similarities between them were certainly there. They were both two years older than me, a head taller than me, and very auDHD. What did this mean? Was I only attracted to him because he reminded me of my brother? I hated my brother! So why was I projecting him onto my sexual partners?!
I knew the comparison to my brother was not a flattering one. I wanted to reassure my boyfriend that my feelings did not reflect poorly on our relationship, but I did not have enough trust in myself to truly believe it.
I sought explanations, but all I found was more shame. As previously mentioned, I came across “The Incest Diary” and her shame was infectious. I looked into hypersexuality and other psychological labels for my ‘affliction’. Every source I found dismissed attraction towards one’s abusers as illegitimate or maladaptive. Their best solution was to shut down those feelings to the best of your ability. Failing that, they offered only pity. These were the only explanations I had for my behavior and so that is how I began to speak of myself.
I’d remember the fondness I felt for my brother. I’d be overwhelmed with guilt. I’d cry. I’d jerk off to incest porn. I’d be overwhelmed with guilt. I’d shut down. I’d call my boyfriend my brother during sex. I’d be overwhelmed with guilt. I’d hurt myself.
There was no obvious way out of this cycle. I felt the way I felt, and that was unacceptable.
The part of me that loved my brother desperately wanted to be seen. I became increasingly comfortable with my boyfriend, and the part of me that associated those feelings of comfort with my brother got louder and louder. I could not allow that part of myself to be known, and because of that, I began to have dissociative episodes.
In October of 2023, this part became impossible to ignore. He would come out during sex, and not so subtly hint towards his incest kink. After sex, I would try to find some kind of explanation that would allow me to keep doing incest sex roleplay without acknowledging it as such. After all, it was genuinely involuntary.
I was scared my boyfriend would be disgusted by me, especially because I usually described my sexual inclinations as pathological.
We had a conversation about it. I don’t think either one of us was certain this would be a good thing for me. We could not have possibly known how positive this would be for me at the time, but we took that leap of faith.
It was shocking how quickly my mental state improved. It transformed me completely. I was, within a month, more grounded. I had less dissociative episodes. I hurt myself far, far less often. I started to genuinely like myself. It was like I had been carrying around tons of metal chains and my boyfriend had given me permission to drop them.
For most of my life, I was weighed down by shame. I was divided, at war with myself. It corroded me. It impaired every aspect of my life, because I was constantly dedicating some amount of energy to dampening the most fundamental parts of myself.
When I accepted my attraction to my brother, whatever that meant, I could finally see that attraction for what it was. It does not justify what he did to me. It does not mean I am broken. I do have positive feelings towards him, but they do not indicate some kind of lingering loyalty to him. I am not corrupted. I am not brainwashed. My memories are my own. I am entitled to however I feel about them.
My incest kink is ultimately not about my brother at all. It’s about acknowledging that part of me felt deeply fond of my brother, because that is the part of me that was most deeply betrayed. It’s about allowing that part of me to connect with others on his own terms, to express his fondness, to express his hurt, and to be comforted.
My perspective is valuable, and my comics are an extension of that perspective. My comics are written thoughtfully, even when they’re lighthearted or indulgent. I think they have a nostalgic, grounded, and comfortable vibe that people appreciate. “Comet & Rudy” especially is inspired by the positive experiences me and my brother had together.
The comic I am currently working on is definitely darker and more heavily inspired by the negative experiences I had with my brother. It’s my most ambitious project yet and I already think it will be the best thing I have ever made when I finish it.
I'm always touched to read what people have to say about my comics. It's gratifying to know people are getting the same things out of my comics that I am. Knowing that connecting with myself has allowed me to connect with others brings me great joy.
I could not be who I am if I was not molested. Yes, it was tragic, but my life is not wasted for having experienced tragedy. Living with this grief has enriched me. It challenged me to question my family and distance myself from them. It has enabled me to connect with more people than I ever thought possible. I would not be who I am without it, and I love who I am.
If you can relate to me, I want you to know there is a path forward. You do not deserve to feel ashamed. Your dignity is not diminished. You deserve to be accepted. You are entitled to your grief, whatever that means for you.