“Why did you stay silent for so many years?” is my favourite question among all the others I often receive.
For a long time I claimed it was my fear of him, my family, or what people would say about me, but the truth is that I was only eight years old when it all started.
I would never be the "popular" girl in school, and I would never be the girl that the "Popular" girls would want in their circle. I was different; maybe I came off a little weird. I was "soiled" and was embarrassed and confused by being exposed and having my sexuality awakened as a little girl by the man who was supposed to be my protector. Could my peers those Popular girls I observed from the sidelines who I was enamored with by the beauty that their confidence brought out of them could they see the dirty secrets I was forced to carry inside of me? Was I the weirdo that at times was the topic of unkind conversation and laughter in their exclusive group? It would take a lot of living life and many experiences well into adulthood that I would recognize that I was more than my sexuality and more than that little girl with shameful secrets.
I am 21 years old woman and it is just the perspective of my, young woman, who are not against all men, view.
I can start with statistics and all the data around the world about how many, how young girls have been sexually attacked, insulted or just manipulated by opposite of sex. Even though, this time I am going to talk just about my experience.
I know what it is like to be molested. I know how it feels to be violated by a family member and a friend of the family. I know what it is like to have to keep the secret out of fear that you will get in trouble or hurt if you tell. I know what it is like to be molested by someone of the same sex, and in turn become confused about your own sexuality. I know what it is like to think that you were just ‘playing a game’ when in fact someone was stealing your innocence. I know how it feels to be so ashamed that you cannot even tell your closest friends, because you do not want them to look at you or your family differently. I know what it is like to feel as if you are going to throw up when someone touches you in the same way that an abuser touched you, even if that abuse happened 30 years ago.
My First Kiss
Two weeks before High School Graduation I finally got the courage to talk to the first guy I ever felt feelings for. I was warned by friends that I should be careful. I said I would take it slow and I did take it slow. After High School Graduation we discussed our first date. During this time I lived thirty minutes away from him and neither of us had our licenses but we were both 18. We were just late bloomers when it came to getting a license. For the first date we agreed on a place near his house so met each other there at the place.
There’s something from my past that I’ve never really talked to anyone about. I’m not sure that I want to talk about it now, but I think about it every day. Despite this, I haven’t told anyone. Not a friend, not a boyfriend, not a relative, and most certainly not the internet. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have the right to talk about it, since I write erotica. Someone stronger than me would say that it doesn’t matter what my occupation is, he should never have touched me. I started writing the erotica after this event, but not because of it.
As a freshman in college, I had never been to high school, and therefore, really had little to no social life experience. I associated with adults primarily and didn't know how to interact with kids my own age (17). I had never really had any experiences with alcohol before and didn't really know what it would do to me.
Everyone has a dark past. Including Maryam. And hers is something too humiliating to tell. Too vivid to forget. A memory she so desperately prays to erase from her mind. Maryam always prays. Raised as a Muslim, she was taught and trained to oblige and beseech for God’s forgiveness. Five times a day. Yet she can never seem to shake off her past. It keeps lurking around. Stalking. Waiting to pounce and stab her in the back. The more she tries to break away, the more it strangles her. Her dark past is one odd story. One with no marked beginning nor definitive end.