These posts were written in 2011 and are about certain subjects that are taboo in the African American community. These are not comfortable subjects to talk about because no one wants to admit that they may have failed a child, niece, and nephew in any way. So to not deal with the “elephant in the room” they walk on every day acting as if nothing every happened and if someone brings up the subject anger rand anxiety is at an all time high. Even as I am typing this now tears are flowing and my heartbeat is faster than normal. This is my healing and my way of getting through events that happened to me as a child. If you do not want to read this then I suggest you leave this blog now.
One of Four
I am now a 26-year-old woman who has stopped living in my past. I always had nightmares but they left and came back when I was 24. These nightmares images from my childhood and I will wake up sweating and breathing hard and not wanting to go back to sleep. I still have moments when I am affected but it is everyday like it used to be. I always felt unworthy because my mother did not raise me and I felt she chose drugs over me. She was sick with a drug addiction then in addition to her mental health issues. I hated her for as long as I could remember, even after she died I still had some anger towards her.
I was forced to do my best to end the anxiety 15 years later; after I lost someone close to me. Even though I am no longer being tortured from my thoughts on a daily basis I can still remember the smell, the touch, and the pleasure I felt from when I was touched by three different “men”. I was sexually molested and raped as a child (until the age of 10) and I did not start dealing with the aftermath until 2004, the same time I started to morn my mother’s death. Going away where you have no one is hard but can still be good because I learned a lot about myself while I was away at college.
The summer I went away to college.
I met a young man that summer who I felt a deep connection with and I did not know at the time but we are one of a kind. We are the same person but in different bodies. We went through similar experiences as a child. I did not know about this at the time but he was put into my life for a reason. I remember car rides crying the whole time because I was trying to figure out why me and at the time he was just a listening ear.
I USED to be a victim; no longer am I a victim because my past does not define me as a woman.
Some family well not some probably all of my family believes that I am with a woman because of the molestation, the rape and my track record with men in the past. I will have to admit some part of me thinks that my past is part of the equation but I do not feel that is it the sole reason. I told them about my attraction to women (or girls my age at the time) starting at 13.
The responses that came from my family:
“Well you showed no signs when you were younger that you were going to be gay” “How did we not know this” “How did we miss the signs you showed”
I knew how to hide it; I was good at hiding a lot when I was younger.
At the same token.. the majority of my family also did not know about the rape and molestation, that I hated myself or that I thought about committing suicide my sophomore year in High School, and that I actually tried to commit suicide in 2004 until recently.
Not saying that they were bad parents (my aunts and uncles collectively helped my grandmother raise me) but you cannot always tell from the signs that children give unless you work in that particular field. (my point is most people who recognize hidden signs are trained to notice). I always felt unworthy because my mother did not raise me and I felt she chose drugs over me. (She was sick with a drug addiction then in addition to her mental health issues) I hated her for as long as I could remember, even after she died I still had some anger towards her. I started to morn my mother’s death until 2004 also. (Going away where you have no one is hard but can still be good because I learned a lot about myself while I was away at college)
To be continued..
Two of Four
The first time I was raped was by my mother’s boyfriend at the time. This was a foolish ass grown man who got off by touching me when my mother was not looking or high or not at home. My mother did not play about her children and if she would have known I do not doubt for one second that she would have tried to fight this man… but then again there were some other concerns. Remember when I said she had an addiction to drugs.
I remember how he looked and how I felt that something was not right with this man even at the young age of one and how I did not like to be around him. I always cried when he gave me baths, I would scream for my mother the whole time but she would not come rescue me. (My conclusion was that she thought and felt that I was just being ornery) Eventually I would just pass out from exhaustion. He used to make me sit in his lap and again I cried the whole time and would always run to my older brother when he was home or around.
Come to think of it I do not think the three of us liked this man AT ALL. But my mother was in love with this man. Why? I could not tell you. I remember her and my grandmother getting into arguments about her bf and she [my mother] yelling and telling my granny to mind her business. My grandmother was granted full custody when I was two years old. My mother was granted visitation so I was still subjected to this sorry excuse of a man until my mother found a new man to be under.
I remember going over to my mothers place after we moved into with my grandmother and the bf was rude and mean. I do not know if he was mad that he wasn’t able to really get his feels anymore from a young child or if he realized that was sick and wrong in the head. Either way I could care less and I have prayed for this man time and time again so whatever about him..
Although I cannot help to wonder if this is the same bf that my mother was with before she died. This Michael guy that she “married” and was madly in love with rubbed me the wrong was at the funeral.
He was trying to talk to me but I was not trying to hear him. I remember my grandmother scolding me at the funeral home for being rude to him but I did not care about his feelings. I was too busy trying to figure out how my mother died and who was this man that was mentioned in and on the obituary and wondered why my father wasn’t. They never got a divorce so how did she get married again? I had too many questions about my mother and worries than listening to and conversing with a guy who was with my mother last BEFORE she was gone and claimed that he did not know how she died.
Three of Four
Let’s just call this person a now distant family member who was 15 or 16 at the time of raping or molesting me..which ever you want to call it. I remember always telling him no and him holding me down or up to get what he wanted. He always ended his nut with “if you tell granny I will beat your ass”
Whelp that was enough to scare me.
This went on for four years.
Until we moved to Texas.
I was free from forceful sex of this family member who irked my soul and who reeked of funk and had the nerve to talk about the smell that I had because his foolish ass forcing his penis into my 4, 5, 6, 7 year old vagina.
I loved sleeping in the bed with my grandmother because I knew I was safe next to her, but she got up early and I was not safe the moment she left her bedroom and went downstairs. There were times when I woke up with hands pulling down my panties and looks that spoke the words that he was not able to say for fear of someone hearing him.
I remember when we moved back to Chicago in 1999 (I moved the summer of my eight grade year granny did not come until the middle of August) and I did not want to move back to that house because I knew he was still living there. I was able to avoid him for most of the summer because I was staying at my auntie house until granny moved back. It was the end of August, one week before school started. I was in the kitchen washing dishes, granny had just left to go to the grocery store. I knew that I was home alone with this creep. I had to finish washing the dishes before I could leave with my aunt and before granny got back or else I would get in trouble later. I was trying to rush before he came in to to kitchen and planned on waiting outside until my aunt pulled up.
I was not moving fast enough, I had about ten more dishes to wash and here comes the 22 year old “man” coming to solicit sex from a 13 year old..
I remember the exact dialogue:
Him: What’s up?
Him: So I see you filling out.
Me: Blank Stare at him with some eye rolling
Him: So do you remember that special thing we had
Him: You know, what we used to do
Him: You wanna go upstairs and rekindle?
Me: Leave me the fuck alone before I scream
Him: Well damn, you don’t have to be a bitch about it, I was just trying to see what you were going to say. You better had not told anyone or I can still beat your ass plus you’re ugly anyway and probably still smell like piss.
He then proceeds to walk past me pushed up on me AND slapped me on the ass then walk out the back door.
I digress again.
Four of Four
This last person is the most sensitive and I feel that it would be better if he would admit to his wrongs and apologize. That would be him admitting to himself that he was “odd” or enjoyed this as a young boy, so instead he runs and acts as if I am wrong. That is okay because I pray for him and our relationship daily. I hate that this situation has hurt our relationship but it is what it is. I cannot make anyone face their fears. When he wants to he will and that will not be until he is ready. Just because I was ready does not mean he should be. We all grow at our on pace. I was in the wrong just as much as him though..I did not say no. I still have nightmares from those times because it’s a sad situation. At times I do not want to go to sleep because of comments that he has recently made that he should have never said. BUT he acts as if he is justified in his comments and that bothers and hinders our relationship.
I remember going to counseling after I tried to commit suicide my freshman year in college and talking about the past of when we used to play around and he would touch me and I enjoyed it and instead of saying stop I would encourage the actions and this confused me for quite some time. I did not know this was still an act of molestation at the age of 19 and I never acknowledged it until then. One of my homework assignments after counseling was to call this individual and demand an apology. The whole purpose of the apology was because I was younger than him and he knew that what he was doing was wrong. I remember telling my therapist that I did not think this would work and she pumped my head up saying that it will, you have to demand respect and once that happens it will come.
I remember this whole conversation also:
I texted him saying that I had something to talk to him about and to call me when he got a chance.
Two hours later
Him: What’s up?
Me: Do you remember when we were younger and you used to touch me?
Me: Well I know that you did not mean to do that but you did it and I want an apology
Him: What? I did nothing to you. I never touched you. I do not like little girls. What the fuck do you mean? I do not have time for this shit. You know I was fucking raped by a babysitter. I never raped you. Don’t fucking ever call me again because I refuse to talk to someone who accuses me of raping them. When you see me act like you do not know me. click.
I sat outside on the bench of my dorm crying for two hours because I just lost someone I looked up to.
And so I did not call him and he did not call me, we did not talk for seven months.
Our relationship eventually got better.
BUT then got rocky again when I came out.
He did not agree with me being in a relationship with a woman even though he’d been calling me gay for the past seven years along with other family members. They loved to joke about it but when it became real and something that was no longer a joke it was like a rude of awakening for them..
“Damn.. She really is gay.”
I have spent many nights these past five years crying my eyes out and healing but mostly crying. The healing did not really start until three years ago. I am not done healing. I am no where near over everything. I will continue to heal through prayer and therapy with my pen. I am telling my story to help others tell their story. You never know who you can help someone heal. I make sure that when I am walking down the street I say hello to everyone.. one hello can make someone’s day.
I am very conscious on the thoughts I have, the people I place around me because I cannot deal with negativity. It can place me back into a depression that I cannot afford to be in. I keep toxic at an arms length.
Again, I cannot make someone want to change. People have to want change for themselves.
I pray more than read my bible more. I cannot let other individuals insecurities stop me from my life’s journey. What God has for me is for me. God does not place more on you than you can bare. He puts you in situations to help teach others. In my case I am helping my family become UN-homophobic. African Americans claim to be liberal but in reality they are NOT. If you have issues with homosexuality and you treat someone less than human because of it you need to look at yourself.
And one of the scribes came and heard them arguing, and recognizing that He had answered them well, asked Him, “What commandment is the foremost of all?” Jesus answered, “The foremost is, ‘Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ “The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” (NAS, Mark 12:28-31)
If you are reading this know that I love you and wish you nothing but the best in your endeavors. You are a great man and will eventually become a great father. You have issues that you need to work through and as soon as you do so, your life will become better than it already is.
Thank you all for reading part of my story, there is more to come.
This is only the beginning.
Remember to treat others as you want to be treated.
God is Love.