Here lies a body of a woman, lifeless with nothing but vague memories haunting her yet the need to know crushes her soul to nothing but dust. She exhales his breath, gets dressed only to merely hide the imprinted finger prints on her body, drowns in her favored perfume to hide the embarrassment oozing out of her pores, she heads out and flashes us with her enchanting smile. “Who is this woman?” One would ask. She would respond ” no, who are these women” Mother dearest, is this normal? Pain caused by a creature called a man? Did this creature commands you to bend over too? Did he sneak up behind you and rip your underwear only to insert a lifetime curse on you too? Oh please tell me because I am confused. IAre my hips, my warm and nurturing demeanor, curves and lumps a leading door to undeserved seconds of pleasure? Oh please tell me because I can gladly rip my soft skin off and hand it over to you to toy with however you like. But I need to know, why? Man, it was nice for you huh? To take advantage of a young girl walking home. You thought “Ahh fresh, naive and young” and pleasure you surely did get. Me? I was left with wounded knees from the carpet, with hatred not only for you who I see prance freely with a title of the most respected man in the city, but hatred for my father to have been a man, myself for swallowing your poisonous saliva, my little boy who I might give birth to, my future husband, my voice for not being louder, my legs for giving up on me and not running faster and and and.
I told myself ” shhh you dare not tell anyone. Look at him? His own daughter praises him as her hero. What were you doing walking alone at 1am anyway? What did you think would happen? Sooner or later someone was going to take advantage of you with that top you were wearing”.
It’s seldom for me to say “I was raped” because I am ashamed. This does not only apply to me but thousands of women across the world. It still boggles me how someone would feel some sort of pleasure from a scream or a cry for help. Even if I was naked, even if we are married, even if I was drunk, even if you hate me, even if.
Do you not have a heart? Were we not made by the same God?
With a recent case (amongst many) of a young woman from my varsity who was raped, I could not take it anymore. It saddens me that only a handful of people knew about this incident. I was mad and asked myself, women why do we let these men do this to us and then continue to allow them to silence us? Then I remembered I myself am a rape victim and although I know who the man is, I still remained quiet. A lot of why’s infiltrate my mind on a daily basis. Why? Why? There is a lot to be mad about.
In my days of darkness I found solace in Maya Angelou and her warm and comforting words.
My favorite poem by her:
” You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise.” – Maya Angelou
Is being a woman a curse? There are so many questions that need answers in this world that we live in. The past year and a half have been so tough. Learning to love myself again, learning to trust again, learning to be comfortable around men again. I must admit I’ve still got a long way to go.
But hold on my sisters.
It is said that with every tear comes redemption. I am going to heal. Women, we are going to heal.
I have decided to reconstruct my blog because I’ve finally found my purpose and that is to tell untold stories, not only mine but OURS. I’m a narrator at heart and trust me, there is a lot I have to say.
ph: uLonwabo photography
creative director: Aluve Nguza & Naso Nguza