You were nine when he cornered you and made you show him your vagina.
He said the only way he’d stop nagging you to go play with him and his brother was if you showed it to him. You were exhausted and creeped out by how he kept showing up in your room. More than anything, you just wanted to go back to reading your book. You lifted up your skirt, stretched your underwear and he giggled. Later that evening as you sat in your veranda, watching the sun caress the hills beyond as it set, you whispered a prayer that he wouldn’t tell his friends at school the following day. School was already hard enough being the introverted, misunderstood nerd, you couldn’t add vagina-flasher to your list of sins. He was eleven, and even though you couldn’t label that knot in your stomach as fear, you were scared. Because after-all, he was kind of your friend. No one is scared of their friends. If boys that age could harass you, the teachers in school would have told you. Your mother would have told you.
You were nineteen when this guy, claiming he liked you, pressed himself way too hard against your breast as he hugged you.
As far as you could remember, you’ve never liked people touching you. People sitting next to you makes you anxious and queasy. But you liked this one, hell you even wanted to kiss him. So why did this hug feel so wrong? Were you not being a crazy bitch for feeling offended when just a few seconds ago, you didn’t mind hugging him, not so much anyway. Was this harassment? Did it count if you liked him? If he liked you? What kind of indecisive person says yes to a hug, then gets offended mid-hug? A few weeks later, he dared you to kiss him. He was tipsy, you were sober. You agreed to a kiss, he caressed your breasts. You told him to stop, but he was tipsy and you were pressed against a wall. Later in the shower, scrubbing your breasts profusely, cursing your lapse in judgement; for being alone with him, you promised all the deities that were listening that you’d remain celibate for the rest of your life if they shrank your breasts somehow.
Read more of this here.
If you have the Issuu app, just search Arts & Ink.
Or download the pdf version :Issue 1
Pardon that heading but I am wailing. In excitement of course.
So my friend Sandra and I partnered up to bring you our very first attempt at a digital publication. It is a commentary on sexual violence, something we feel very strongly about.
I can’t even hype it up properly. I’m too excited!
Please dive in. You might shed a tear or two. But please comment, let us know what you think and please spread the word.