#metoo hashtag has swept almost the whole world after the Weinstein scandal. This made me reflect back and think of all the times I have been molested, abused, harassed or even publicly shamed.
Although I recently learned how to come out and share my story, still I only managed to speak out privately. I am working on healing part of this journey and experience.
I remember laying down in bed, telling him how my first experience was when I was four-five years old. I remember as if it was yesterday. My cousin was older, he was around seventeen at that time.
He would put some painful muscle joint menthol called ‘Robb’ inside my vagina and rub it all over my vagina. This shit was super painful and I developed painful sores. I couldn’t understand why he did that to me but I was supposedly not to tell anyone.
He also did put sharp sticks, salt or even african pepper inside my vagina. At one point he put sugar and licked it off. I was five then.
Sometimes I want to feel pain and cry myself for three or four days thinking why would a human being do this to a child. Yet, when the story of Weinstein broke, I felt anger and hatred towards those who said shame on those women who didn’t speak out. I hated these people with the same emotions like I hate my cousin and every man who is abusive in any form.
Of course it is easy for them to say why didn’t these women speak out? It takes courage to speak out. It took me courage to say what happened to me, first to my ex boyfriend because he expected me to be a virgin.
It took me even much more to tell of the stories recently. Sometimes, I told my story laughing because I have cried for years reliving all those memories. I still cry today.
#metoo did not only open my wounds, but also made me remember all those instances that I wanted to kill myself as a child because of this.
Especially when an uncle also abused me. I got dick in my mouth when I was eight. Plunging all his load inside me and telling me not to tell anyone. I obeyed and never said anything.
Next in the line was a neighbours son who twice forced me to kiss him as he touched and pinched my vagina. Of course, he threatened me not to tell anyone or else my family would lose access to their toilet (latrine). My family did not have the money to dig a latrine and therefore depended on our neighbour’s. George would pinch my nipples everytime he would meet me and I said nothing. I was still eight years old.
Already at nine years old, I was already molested more than twenty times by family members, a neighbour’s son, schoolmates and one time a church youth.
It was also at nine years, that I felt broken and made some puppies lick my vagina. I still remember this incident. I would put sugar into my vagina, just like my cousin did, and make our puppies lick the sugar off. I am glad they didn’t bite off my clitoris. Even though, my clitoris was already in danger of being taken away by the tradition of the community I lived in, as they practised Female Genital Mutilation.
I carry so much pain and anger inside me and I hope one day, children will live in a world where they do not have to face this. It is my hope, that one day, when women have been abused and harassed, nobody will ask them why they did not speak out.
Today, I salute those who spoke out about sexual harassment and abuse. You have no idea what strength and courage it gives me.
To many who read this, do not pity me but instead, feel happy with me today and as I dry away my tears, let out with me a big sigh of relief.
They didn’t break me.