It Was Never Ok.

I was always that girl who thought she wasn’t good enough that she was ugly, too fat, too pale, hair too thin, too short. I always thought I would never get the attention of the boys and girls like all my other peers. How wrong I was.

In a morbid way I did get that attention, it was the wrong kind but, did I care? No because I knew no better. I was never told what was wrong or right in this until I finally spoke up but, by then the damage was done. How was I to know that being the first in my class to hit puberty would be a horrible wrong that I somehow committed. To them it was my fault, I just had to grow breasts, I had to fill out, I just HAD to go through something so natural to tempt them.

It wasn’t their fault they touched me no It was all mine. They were curious and I was the perfect target to test that curiosity, they would get their small touches here and there. It started in 5th grade, my own friend grew a “crush” on me. He was nice, he was sweet. He tried to force a kiss on me but, I was told he didn’t know any better. I didn’t like it but, hey it was brushed under the rug. He apologized and later became one of my closest friends, he learned his mistake.

Sadly…others did not. 6th grade I met a guy, he acted so mature, so ahead of our class. He pretended to be my friend and then came my first french kiss and afterwards he showed me just what was hidden in his trousers. He asked to see what I had hidden in return but, I in my panic managed to stumble out a good enough excuse to get him to back off, I was on my period. He didn’t need to know I was lying. It came in small spurts then, he’d pass me in the hallways always whispering dirty…uncomfortable things to me, he’d ask me just what type of nasty wet dreams I had. Then he was detailing how he knew how to use a condom and that I should come visit him. I told him to stop in a small passive voice too scared of retaliation…he laughed and gripped me by a chain I used to love wearing and used it to drag me to the boys bathroom. I would have been raped I imagine if my friend…the one I mentioned first had not come looking for me worried.

I still feel it was my fault for even “leading” this boy on…yet all I did was try to go about my school day and he justified himself with “a fat cow like you won’t get anything better than what I’m giving.”

He was expelled later for molesting another girl. The teachers did not believe my story, they had to see it with their own eyes unfortunately.

I was in 9th grade when I heard the term booty call for the first time as I was passing by a pair of upper class men in the hall alone with me. They called it out as I passed by. I thought they were just hinting that I had a big behind, no I’d find out a year later just what It meant and I would shiver in disgust.

The boy I knew in middle school was back I feared for my safety but luckily he kept away from me as boys had caught his interest it seemed not that I was glad he’d be bothering anybody else. I had wanted to expose him for who he really was but my lips were glued shut in fear. Because let’s face it, when had me saying anything ever worked?

He made friends with somebody I almost called friend, this guy who I shall just name tall and lanky began to take an all too avid interest in me. He claimed to like petite girls, girls with small breasts yet he still groped me on the daily and at times he would grope so tightly that it would hurt but, even as I cried out in pain and fear he would claim I liked it just because my body had a natural reaction and my nipples had hardened. He would say I was a slut who loved having people grope her.

11th grade a friend of mine took my words literally and he not so kindly got up from his seat and forced me out of mine and bent down to kiss my behind. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing even a friend would just disregard my space like that.

It was that same year my boyfriend at the time began to become so sexually demanding I could barely keep up. He would do it even before I said yes or no. I was confused if it was forced or not…if I did not answer him verbally it could hardly be his fault right? That’s what I was led to believe. Then once I began to grow a small backbone and tell him no and try to avoid it the sleep sex happened. I didn’t always wake up. I was told years later by my closest friend that it could be counted as rape. I cried for something that happened so long ago but I could still feel it within my soul. I believed it was my fault, I didn’t give him enough so he obviously had a right and I would never do better so why complain? Nobody would care I’d screamed at myself many a time.

Self harm followed, letting myself go, not caring anymore about my wants and needs. I thought I really was a bag of meat if I was just gonna be treated like one. I slowly grew out of it with help and a steady support base finally. I’m still recovering, I still feel unsafe by myself but, with the love of a man whose respected all my boundaries…and understands all this…and with friends who actually are friends it’s gotten better. It does get better. My point in writing this isn’t for pity or sympathy but to show girls and men like me they are not alone. With all this rape culture talk going on I felt it was a good time to come clean as can be. I have a daughter and I hope she never has to face the times we are now. I will teach her to be safe but that she also shouldn’t feel like she has to weigh every action, every piece of clothing, be careful with how she enjoys herself or acts around men. Because NO means NO.

Like what you read? Give Christina Bruce a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.