He was not a stranger in
an alley or some man I had just met so the thought of what he did actually
being rape did not come into my mind until I started to really fight back. We
had been together for three years we have a daughter who was just under two at
the time, he had a good job and brought in very good money. I stayed at home
with our daughter, went shopping all day, and kept the house spotless. Looking
from the outside, you would not see the truth within. If anything he made me looks
spoilt and would tell all others how hard his life was with me. However, all my
family (whom we lived closest to) could see the cracks. My mum could not put
her finger on it but she just did not want my daughter or me near him. She was seeing
all the control that I could not. He was smart though, he would not hit he
would use words and coerce me to his ideals and ways of thinking. He tried and
very nearly succeeded to convince me I was a danger to be alone with my daughter,
which triggered postnatal depression. He would cheat with others and make me
feel worthless. I was forever put on a diet. I was made to wear slutty lingerie
on command. Along with that, the 'sex' was on command too. Whether I consented
or not was of no consequence, it was expected so it had to be done, daily. I
would just lie on the bed dressed in whatever he wanted at the time and await
instruction as to what he wanted. Then I started to speak up and at times, flat
out refuse before the rapes started he would just storm off like a baby,
complaining and making my life hard at every turn always bringing the reason
for his behavior back to the lack of sex in our lives. One night he had been
drinking and smoking drugs. He tried to restrain me in the living room on the
sofa with his hands and force and weight of his body but I fought him off. I
made my way to the bedroom upset, scared and confused he had never been this
forceful before and I did not know what he was going to do next. My daughter
was asleep in the same bedroom so I was scared for her too. Before I could think,
he grabbed me from behind and forced me against the wall. He tried to fondle me
and kiss me, I refused and tried to push him off but somehow between the space
of the living room to the bedroom he had developed a strength I did not know
anyone could possess. He threw me by my hair onto bed and ripped the bottom
half of my clothes off me. He kept me pinned down by my neck with his forearm
pushing me further into the mattress. Tears were streaming down my face but my
sobs and pleas stifled, as I did not want to wake my daughter and have her
witness it. I cannot remember the duration of the rape but all I have now are
the flashbacks of the violence and the way my body was abused as if I was not
really in it. That was not the last time he raped me, the last time was in
front of my daughter. That is when I saw it for what it was, not what he made
it out to be, which, in his words, was all my fault.
Our Mission Statement
Our Mission Statement
1. We hope to provide a safe place for the victims of sexual violence to share their stories, in order that by doing so they may reclaim their power and cease to be the victims of their attackers due to residual intimidation.
2. We desire most earnestly to dispel the public myths about sexual violence. By sharing the survivors' stories we hope that it will awaken compassion and understanding in the public, and that blame will finally be shifted to where it belongs: on the perpetrator.
3. With publishing these stories, it is our hope that it may also alleviate some of the unwarranted guilt that survivors tend to put on themselves, by connecting them to others with stories similar to their own.
4. We hope that by openly displaying the devastating affects of sexual violence, we might not only empower those who tell them, but create a public outcry to enact new legislation, which should impose a better system to deal with sex offenders.
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