We Shatter Silence Story from Bronx

23 With a Secret…

I begin writing every time a new story inspires me but I can never find the words to tell the world what happened so many years ago. I always ask myself why am I not as strong as these other women? Why can’t I ever get the words out my mouth? Am I ashamed ? Does this define me and the choices I make? All these questions and yet I can never find the answers or seek the help that I so desperately need. I think that every girl has a story to tell, whether it is an unwanted kiss, a touch or the full blown pain of facing the truth that they’ve so long denied. Does this define who I am? Well, I don’t really know. I just assume that it does because subconsciously it is there, taunting at me… “Don’t speak the truth” it says, “Don’t tell anybody” it says, “No one will believe you” it says. But on the outside, I throb with that feeling of wanting to be wanted, so does that mean my experience defines me?

Does it mean that because I said no so many times over and over again as a little girl, yet I have grown up to want the same very thing I agonized as a child. Just touch me here, kiss me there… I plea ignoring the feeling, and thoughts that once brought me pain. Don’t be so rough, but hold me down, don’t bite me to hard, but slap me up. All the things that I didn’t want but all the things that seem so natural to me…

Six year old little me never knew when it was going to end. It started off as a game with my older step brother. “Do you know what this is” he asked as he showed me his private parts. I just wanted to show him my dolls but he wouldn’t let me. I just wanted someone to play with but he wouldn’t let me. Instead he made me do everything I didn’t want to do. Made me cry for him to stop , “You like this don’t you”, “Didn’t you miss me”. Shown the world of sex by the same devil that people talk about. Yes I’ve met him with my own eyes, yes he’s touched me, and held me down. He snuck in rooms while my mother wasn’t around, slept in my bed when the door was closed.

People asked me if I was okay when I was six years old. Little ole me just shrugged it off and shrugged it off until I couldn’t anymore. Save me please I would beg with my eyes but my mouth wouldn’t word. Save me mommy please, although deep in my heart I felt like she knew. All I wanted was to play with my dollies, all I wanted was to be loved. Was I not allowed that? Here i am now, 23 with a secret that people don’t understand. Why didn’t I say something when they asked? I chuckled it away, laughed at the pain… I just didn’t know any better. Self blame is always there but yet I choose to hide it with drinks and humorous remarks. So has this defined the life that I live? I have no choice but the face my demons with my two best friends. I explain the agonizing pain but they don’t know that this is my pain. I don’t explain it like that because I can’t show them that side of me. I’m too strong for that. Instead I say it like a story of a big bad wolf and an innocent red riding hood, except at the end I was still alive with just a part of me dead.

Soul stolen so many times each and every time, I should have said something. What about every girl after me, what about every secret they’ve held on for so long? They’ve danced with the devil too, they held his hand and felt his body pressed to theirs, his breath on them and sweat drip onto their innocent skin. I’ve let them down and that’s why I’ve held onto this secret for so long. This is why I don’t speak on it because it’s too late and the damage has been done. I am defined by the devil himself and have been marked with this tragedy. I was raped… There it goes, finally said it out to the world. I was sold into the arms of the devil. No care in the world about my temple of a body, my innocence or even how this will carry on in my life forever, like a plague. Into every room I walk in, into every relationship I become one with this story, these scars will always follow me. Always doubting any man who comes to close to me, but yet seeking protection from any man that I can. I couldn’t save myself or every other little girl after me but just wanted to tell you that it is okay to share your secret people do care, and you are strong! You just need a push.

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