And so I became a ho (Part 1)
One day I realised that for way too many of the wrong years I wasn’t having sex but I’d been raped most of the time. It sucks. I was so shocked, I was feeling like maybe I should just die.
I couldn’t believe that I consider myself a person after people had just violated my body and raped me like I’m not a whole person to say no and be left alone. I wanted to die. I still feel that way sometimes, like I should just die because every day, everywhere I exist – not everywhere I go but wherever I dare to take up some space and exist – people rape me.
I grew up being made to feel like if I express my explicit desire to fuck, I’m gross. I’m wrong, I’m not doing what ladies do. Makes me wonder if that means ladies must be raped and never have sex?
I had q’wuestions.
I started to wonder what the fuck kind of fucked up shit is this? After all that time I’d spent being violated. I thought that the way “sex” happens is that someone kinda forces me to do it, that’s what they mean when they say that we shouldn’t come out right and want to fuck. I stopped hanging out with rapists a long time ago; I stopped chilling out and talking to men like they’re not some kind of “psycho” who’s just plotting to rape me eventually.
That previous sentence isn’t even a lie. Every time a nigga steps to me I think he’s just trying to buy time before he can rape me. Then people want to talk shit and be insensitive about rape like we’re talking about someone breaking your windscreen – a whole human life being treated like some fuck thing from a bin?
I am angry, I’m angry and bitter as fuck! And whenever a dude is trying to talk to me about MY body and what to do with MY self?! As if it is not my very existence the reason that I’m being raped – not that I was drunk out of my mind and wearing tight clothes.