TW: Sexual Assault

I was woken up by fingers in my pants, while you played with the private parts of my body like a piano. But you couldn’t play. In shock, I froze, not knowing what to do with the nausea I felt from the sickening smell of alcohol on your breath, spreading across the room. You were drunk and came back to haunt me in my sleep.

It was a long ride to Limpopo, where her grandparents stayed. I was excited to meet her grandmother. Filled with the excitement of a 4-year-old, I couldn’t contain it. She was close to me, and I was close to her, “why didn’t she say anything?” I thought in distress. I suppose she didn’t want to bring shame to her family. But to whom am I kidding. I didn’t know that a man did not have the right to touch me unless I said so. Perhaps that explains why I sit in uncomfortable situations and I struggle to say no. So I froze while I pretended to sleep. Your fingers lingered while I felt an uncomfortable sensation of shivering and goosebumps from the fear you instilled in me. Thank you for making me hate the feeling of a man’s fingers caressing me. Thank you for reminding me everyday of the filth you have covered me with that I worry I will spread it to the people I love. 

I’m confused. It was many years ago. I was 14 years of age and had never been touched by a man. I was afraid of my first kiss. The thoughts of sex at that age sickened me, yet, I still imagined that the first man who touched me would bring safety and security. Oh, how you’ve stripped me from that moment forever. Best friend, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t I say anything? Would they have believed me that their drunken son could potentially be a rapist? Were you afraid that you would lose me as a best friend? I lost a part of me to you, to the man that took away everything I desired to experience with my consent. 

To the man that stripped me away from that, FUCK YOU!

~Shantey Moabelo