Wednesday, 3 October 2012

Pieces of shattered innocence

This strong poem came in today from someone who wishes to remain anonymous.













(c) photo by khulud kh, 2012

PIECES OF SHATTERED INNOCENCE

You stole my innocence
My first kiss, second, third,
Fourth kiss

Twelve years old and trying so damn hard
To turn my face, let your lips hit my cheek
But you sought out my lips
Gave me a slobbery, drunken, closed mouth kiss

Was it because I was an easy target
A young disabled girl forced to choose
Avoid you or see who I thought of
As a second father
I chose the latter, but didn't deserve
Your drunken violation of my unkissed lips

I can't remember how many nights it happened
This assault I blamed myself for
You kept coming to parties, were a friend of my parents
(Still are, though you've moved)
I'd hide in my room, but never feel safe

A decade after I became your prey
I saw you at a Christmas party
You with a new wife, me with my parents
Talking in a group, just the five of us
You kissed me again
Once on the mouth, then started on my neck
I'm not strong, and pushing you away was difficult
I guess you missed your easy mark

After leaving the party
Before my parents or I made it to the car
I told them what you did, what I had to do
They blew it off as a misunderstanding
Maybe I mistook your actions, they said

You kept coming to parties
I kept hiding
You were hired to do some work at our house
When I said I didn't want to be alone with you
I was told how much my words would hurt your feelings
I wanted to cry
What happened to my feelings of safety
Of comfort or trust

For too many years, simply hearing your name
Would spin me into a panic attack
Attacks I was forced to hide

I'm better now
Able to write these words
Without uncontrollable panic
My PTSD under some control

Kisses to my neck still trigger a reaction
But I'm living
I didn't choose to be sexually assaulted
Preyed on
But I chose to move on
Deal with my demons

I chose survival

(c) All rights reserved to the author of the poem, who wishes to remain anonymous. 

Sunday, 18 March 2012

tribute to my brave child

the following personal story was submitted by nuria from spain.

no one has looked to you with loving pride... I do

I am swimming in the beach with my family... holidays, sunny day, fun... ooohhh... I'm drowning... somebody is pushing my head down... can't make it... BIG fear... it's so strong... I kick and fight... I want to breathe... I'm dyyyying... I can't yell for help... a huge burst of anger... I kick, I fight fiercely... I'm drowning, can't shout for help... I struggle so hard... I'm very angry... what's going on???... no thinking... kick... I fight for life... is my uncle!!... he keeps on drowning me in the sea...what, what???... he is touching my pussy???... he is laughing... kick for life!!... he does it and does it again and again... I finally get rid... I swim desperately to my father's arm... mmmm, warm & shelter... daddy's protection... but... but... what happens??? he pushes me away... he throws me back to my uncle's arms... 'you silly girl!!'... aaaahhhh!!!!! back again in my uncle's arms... blank... silence... no more memories... locked... only the taste of sea salt in my mouth... only know, I some how, got to the shore. I am 6 years old.

list is long... worthless... abandoned... guilty... anyone can mistreat you... you have no right at all... shame... silence

I'm 45 years old... my little girl bursts in anger again... I see her red face kicking fiercely a sandbag... I get through and see her deep hurt... desperate... wound bleeds... fear comes... is this never going to heal??... what else can I do???... ok, breathe and stay with her... I get her in my arms and rock her... what is she saying now??... oh I am being disloyal to myself, to her... I will find the way...

the journey is long... the wound is deep... and bleeds in the most unexpected situations... step by step awareness heals... many things have been affected, and show up in diverse circumstances...

long list too, of which aspects affected and still affect in my life... how many things have occurred me...

I made the choice to be me... to be free... to live life as I deeply believe... to honour my essence...

and there it comes... life brings what you need in many different ways... surprising experiences to move forward and gain what you want...

one of the most important things to go through this healing process... to conquer our birth right, that is ours and no one has to give it, WE HAVE IT, WE OWN IT... is sharing our stories, our wisdom from them... we have to regain this... the power of supporting... the natural power to transmit life values, life knowledge, life sense...

and this is what has been so strong to knock down all what I had built and be loyal to me and my will... 'walk the talk'... no more shame... SHARE

my loving, pretty child... chispeta!!! I don't abandon you... I listen you... I protect you... You were so brave... You did it so well... today I am here because of you... thanks my love & joy!!!

nuria :: barcelona :: spain

small note: sexual abuse is the biggest trauma, it impacts to the physic, psychological and soul. 3 over 5 children suffer it. Redefining sexual abuse is also important, it is not only penetration; exhibitionist, touching, coarse language or manners... it has had a long tabu history filled with many topics... time to rise our voice!

Thursday, 2 February 2012

WHAT PART OF ‘N-O’ DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?

"It’s always our fault.
We provoked it.
We behaved in a way that was not good.
We did… they just could not handle it.
Bad, bad women!

Men?
Like sheep. No free will. They just follow you everywhere… You invited me! You shouldn’t trust anyone (not even me!). I couldn’t stop myself – YOUR fault.

I am VERY lucky.
I consider that I haven’t been raped. I didn’t want it, two or more times (I know it happened), but in the end I decided to let go and think of something else.

I definitely had even invited them…

I’m a bad woman.
Middle class, very educated, professional, married, kids. After 25 years, my husband and I decided to make it an open relationship. Like millions of other Western couples.

It doesn’t really work, but that’s another issue.
Sexually active, they call it. Having fun, some say. Enjoying myself, I called it.

I calculated my risks. Lots of strategical thinking, too.
- What if?
- Did that sound right what he just said?
… Double-checking: We’re in a Hotel… If I really want, I can just scream or make a lot of noise…

Anyway.
Dating! Of course, you can never know!
There are bad people out there…
And, come on, you wanted to have sex, what more invitation could that be?

Right, but in my case, clear limits were set.
What? That kind of..? And you are talking about rape???

No, Ladies and gentlemen, there are rules for this. Clear rules.
A Safe Word, agreed upon before. Not ‘no’ – that’s too common. Say “house”. When you say “house”, I will stop, at any time.

Right, and you believed that crap?
Come on, that’s what you came for! That’s what you wanted.

No. And I had made it very clear beforehand.

Why could 99.9% of them stop when I said ‘house’ or any other word we had agreed upon? Why just ‘he’ couldn’t stop??

Men seem to have no responsibility and no free will.

Indeed. We are so much stronger, girls!
We all know that if they would have to have kids, they’d die at the first contraction.

Once, on chat, after repeated attempts to make him understand that – no! – I did not want to open my cam – and when he still did not get it (and until I blocked him) – I asked him:

WHAT PART OF ‘N-O’ DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?"


submitted by Maria (pseudonym), Israel/Palestine

If she had only believed it

"If only it had been someone other than his mother who had found out.

Of course she couldn't look at the evidence and see that he was hurting me. She was his mother!

She looked at the evidence and saw what she needed to see. That I, a child, was leading him astray. That I, a child, was causing him to do things which were out of character. That I was a dangerous child, corrupting her poor son.

I was to blame for the decline in moral standards in society, she said.

I, a child.

She should have saved me, she should have helped me.

If she had only seen beyond what she needed to see, to what was actually happening, she could have stopped it. Instead she just reaffirmed to me, to him, that he was right and I was wrong.

I was the (child) temptress, I was the (child) slut.

Poor boy. Poor rapist boy."


submitted by Patria (pseudonym), UK

and... we begin

I started receiving stories from women. So far, I've received two - one from Patria (pseudonym) from the UK, and the other from Maria (pseudonym) from Israel/Palestine. I hope that these first two will encourage you to share yours with us as well. For we want to create safe spaces for girls and women around the world - spaces free of any sexual violence.

By sharing our stories, by making our voices heard loud and clear, we are refusing to remain in the position of victims. Not only that, but by sharing our stories, we are contributing to making this world safer for girls and women.

So - here we go! Next post: Patria's story.

an open invitation for women around the world

This is an open invitation for women from all over the world to take part in a unique project of “Creating Safe Spaces for Girls and Women.”

Most of us have experienced some kind of a sexual molestation/ assault/ abuse/ attack/ harassment at one point or another in our lives. It could have been a single incident or an ongoing molestation. It happened on the street, at the pool, at a relative’s house, or in our homes. It was a family member, a family friend, someone from school, or a stranger. There are so many stories, and many of us carry them within ourselves. Many of us share our stories so that we could prevent these assaults from happening to other girls and women. But still many of us remain silent.

Yes, there are probably many websites, books, lectures, workshops on this issue. But still, we need more. In order to create safe spaces for girls and women, we need to tell our personal stories over and over, in all available forms.

I am inviting you to share your own personal story in any way you wish – it could be sharing a specific incident, describing your feelings of helplessness, fear, pain or guilt, how you cope with it in the present, how has it affected your life, how to transfer this knowledge to young girls, or any other thoughts you wish to share with other girls and women around the world. It can be as short as one paragraph or as long as several pages. You can focus on only one aspect of sexual molestation, or on several. It can be written in any style you wish: facts, poem, creative writing. You can remain anonymous if you wish, or you can tell us about yourself as little or as much as you wish.

There’s no deadline for submissions. Right now, I think this will be an ongoing, long-term project.

Where to send your story: khulud.kh@gmail.com

Please help spread the word and pass this on to as many women as possible. To receive the invitation in a PDF form, please email me at the address above.

© this is an independent project initiated by khulud kh, January 2012