I have been following this community for a long time, but I have never been brave enough to make a post. I have sat here looking at this empty text box for over an hour, trying to put together what is in my mind. I hope that what follows does not offend or upset anyone, but it is my story. I have been so inspired by all of the corageous women on this site who have come out to tell their stories of survival. So I hope to add my voice to this chorus. I am half sick of silence, I need to speak out.
When I was very young, my mother said to me “the greatest gift a woman can give to her husband, is her virginity.” Those words haunt me still. They nag at me, disrupt my thoughts when I least expect it, and have caused me more anxiety than I can express.
I did not have a normal childhood, my father was an alcoholic and a drug user. My first memory is of him chasing my mother around the kitchen table, because he wanted to “take my little girl on a ride”. My mother was so concerned for my “purity” that I was never allowed to see my friends outside of school. Unless of course they were at our house. I had alarms on my windows in case I tried to escape in the middle of the night. I was chastised when I asked why I could not go have fun with my friends. “There might be a boy there, and you might end up in the bathroom with him” As if I would just sleep with anyone who looked at me.
I remained a virgin until I was fourteen years of age. As a gift for my upcoming fifteenth birthday, I was sent around Europe, and then New York. The trip to Europe was wonderful, I loved every step of the journey. My grandmother and my aunt accompanied me until we arrived in New York. I have a large amount of family there, and I was to stay with them.
After not having seen my relatives in a while, I was ecstatic to meet with them again. These were people that I had frequently been to visit as I was growing up. I loved them, and I still do, all except for one. My great uncle, who I loved dearly put me up in his daughter (my cousin’s) room. Whenever I stayed in New York, I stayed with my great aunt and uncle. My great aunt, who still had yet to retire, worked long hours, and had to leave me alone in the house. This had never caused me anxiety, not once.
It was different this time though. My great uncle came into the room after his wife had left, and stole everything from me. I never said anything, I didn’t even cry. I still haven’t cried, not since I was very young and the only stable person in my life died.
I stayed in New York for a week. When I came home, I wanted to tell my mother, but I was afraid. Afraid I was worthless now, despoiled. What in me could drive a man who had seen me grow up, to do something like that? There was no conclusions I could draw that did not end with me being at fault. So, after much thought, I came to the conclusion that I would tell my mother only small things about what had happened. I wanted to give her a glimpse, in the hopes that she would ask me more.
It did not go as I had hoped, and I cannot get her words out of my head. I told her that my great uncle had behaved strangely towards me, that he had rubbed my legs, and told me I was a beautiful girl. I hoped that maybe she would get outraged, maybe, just maybe she would comfort me. I was wrong. She told me that men when they are older sometimes become “weird” and that they can’t control themselves. She told me it was because I was a pretty girl, and that pretty girls did things to otherwise normal men.
“You’re just such a pretty girl” She said it to me, and I died inside. Then she told me never to tell my aunt, because it would ruin the friendship between my aunt, and my cousin. So I locked it up, and pretended it never happened. These words were too ugly for my mothers world, I could not tell her anything more. I was sure it would destroy her.
I have ceased to want anyone, ceased to feel any excitement, the only thing left is fear. Fear when I am touched, fear of crowds, and fear of people. I hide it well, but my studies suffer. For a while I thought I had overcome it all, but a recent event has proved me wrong.
A man at the starbucks I frequent was making very disturbing advances towards me, so I left. When I got home, I told my mother about it. She chuckled and shook her head at me, as if my disgust was amusing.
“You’re such a pretty girl, you just call them out, like bees to honey!”
I am a feminist, I know it is not my fault, I know men can control themselves, and I know that she is wrong for what she has said. Still, still when I hear those words, the fourteen year old inside me dies a little more.
I hope one day I can become strong, that I can hear the word “pretty” and not shut off. I must hope, because I must, because I have a pair of sisters who need me. Because I will not let this kill me, because I have dreams I want to see to fruition.
It’s hard though, damn hard.
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That's so sad. I'm so sorry, but I'm glad you're being strong- for yourself and your sisters.
Speak out. Speak loud. To the guys who make advances, call them out on their arseholeness. To your mom, tell her that being pretty is not the reason these guys are being pigs, and that old men don't become "weird;" that he was psychologically disturbed. To everyone, just be loud and proud of who you are.
It'll take a while. But once you get your voice loud enough, you'll never want to quiet down.
When people listen, you're in power. You make the decisions.
Good luck.
Well said. Do not be afraid to call people out. Even if they react negatively, you are doing the right thing. Your words will be heard by others, whether or not you know it at the time. The louder the better.
Thank you for sharing your story.
I am so sorry this happened to you, but so glad that you feel able to talk about it here. Know that there are people out there who won't silence you, along with those who would like to try. Please know that if my son or a future daughter or any young one came to me with a story like this, I will think back to what you've said here and be the best support system I can for them. I hope you get all the help and healing that you need.
Thank you for sharing your story it is very powerful. You are very brave and I think it is wonderful that you are able to recognize that it is not your fault, and that as you said men CAN control themselves. I am sure you are a pretty, beautiful person, and I hope that one day that won't be used as an excuse for men to mistreat you.
As starryeyed said, hold people accountable. You have the right to stand up for yourself and you have our support. Do use good judgment though, hold people accountable as long as you feel safe doing so.
I'm glad your sisters have you.
*HUGS*
For totally different reasons, "pretty" hits me wrong, too. So, I know - people intend a compliment, and it just hurts instead.
There is no one way to heal. Please don't buy into that. Be strong, be weak, shout it out or not - it's about you, and what's right for you. And I wish you peace.
I also have a weird reaction to 'pretty'. For some reason I just HATE that word. I think because of what it represents.
I hate that word too. It makes me feel all squicky and violated. :(
OP, I am so sorry you experienced this. Thank you for sharing your story with us, I hope it helps you heal.
Please remember that he didn't steal anything from you. No one has that power.
You are still whole, you are not broken, and never let anyone tell you that you aren't.
I'm so sorry. I hope you are getting the support you need. You are strong enough to share your story and that is a victory. Please know that you are perfect the way you are and did not deserve to be abused and raped by some one you trusted.
Joan
Thank all of you for your kind words. I was really frightened to post, but now I am happy I did. This is the first time I have spoken out. In the future I hope to receive counseling, but as of yet I become too frightened to speak.
Delaluz, I know you were frightened to post, but it's the post that's frightening, and it should be. That the world could do this to a person is scary, and like so many above I'm sorry it happened to you. I agree with Analogue - he didn't steal anything from you, he didn't take anything from you, he hurt you and it should continue to fuck up no one but himself; if his actions tainted someone, it tainted him.
I hope you receive that counselling you mentioned, and that your counsellor is a good, compassionate person.
My mom was also obsessive, although not that obsessive, about guarding against rape/sex when I was young. I wasn't harmed in that way, but not thanks to my parents; of those measures were completely ineffective. It drives me crazy that people put all their efforts into trying to prevent largely unpreventable and rare stranger rape; it takes away focus from the people who really do often hurt children, ie others in the family.
Sometimes I wonder if that's why even patriarchal, sexist people continue to promote "rape vigilence" like not walking in the park at night, etc... because it tricks you into wasting your time, restricting your own growth and desires, and most of all letting the men most likely to molest you go about undetected.
I forgot to add:
OK, the little heart icon just doesn't show up I guess.
Delaluz, thank you for sharing your story. Don't stop talking and don't stop standing up for yourself. You are strong and he didn't steal anything from you. You are not spoiled, and you are not less than you were before. You are a whole, strong woman.
Delaluz, you are truly an awesome, courageous women. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us. I hope this has helped your healing process and that things get better from here out.
Thank you for your story - it was most touching and enlightening. Only if every "virginity is holy," "men are just that way" mother and father can read this, I think they would change their worldview on how to better love and protect their children.
That said, this post, while very poignant and touching, also makes me happy - you posting it and giving yourself a voice, I think, is exactly what the founders of Feministing intended when they create this blog.
Thanks again to you, and also Jessica and the rest of the crew, for providing a forum!
Sometimes I feel like a personal unarticulated pain of this magnitude is like a bubble surrounding your whole body and making you feel disconnected from everything and everyone around you. The longer you keep it locked up inside you, the more that bubble grows until it engulfs your whole being. Every time someone who doesn't know touches or says something to you that triggers those painful memories, the bubble inflates a little bit more, until you are forced to push people further and further away from you as the bubble creates a huge barrier between you and those who think they know you. The pressure inside the bubble is a constant reminder of its presence, but every time you are triggered, the pressure increases so that your lungs feel compressed in your chest and it is hard to move, speak, or even breathe.
But the first time that you take the huge leap across the gulf, and tell a willing person something of the inner turmoil inside you, a little bit of air is released, and you feel, for the first time in as long as you can remember, that you can breathe a little more freely. And every time you venture to share a little more of yourself with someone you can trust, a little more air is released, and a little more pressure is reduced, until, finally, the bubble begins to shrink below your head and above your knees, and your limbs begin to feel freer than they have since that day, and the more you let it out, the smaller it becomes, until it is just a little marble sized ball in your chest that you almost don't notice on a good day at all.
You are amazingly brave to have taken that first step, and I hope that you did feel, even just for a moment, the lessening of the pressure that letting it out can provide.
Now you have started, I hope you never stop talking to those who you feel you can trust, whether they be close friends, a counsellor, or the friendly ears and open hearts of your fellow Feministing-ers.
I can't promise that the pain will go away completely, and it might take you a very very long time, but you do have all the time in the world. Your well being and personal self-love and self-esteem is the most important thing imaginable, and that cannot ever be stolen from you. It can, however, be locked away in a little box deep inside you, trampled down by feelings of anger, guilt, fear and pain, but it will never leave you, and, with help, you will find the key to open it again.
I wish you all the happiness in the world. You are an amazing, complete person. And no-one, ever, has the right to tell you any different.
Dear Delaluz,
Thank you very much for sharing your story. I have been through something similar and I understand how difficult it must be for you. It's funny how several minutes can affect you for years afterwards. It was very courageous of you to post, and I am confident that you will continue to be strong and find your way.
All the best,
Brenda
Again, I thank you all for your support and understanding. It means more to me than I can put into words. When I read the comments, it makes me feel that there are people who understand. I can't say thank you enough, for the first time in years I feel hope again.