I Was Molested

A lot of the memories from this time in my life have been repressed. A devastating impact was wrought. Thus, before you continue reading this entry, I offer you this caution: this revelation pertains to a defining moment in my past — my sexual molestation.

I was 10.

17 years have come and gone, but the trauma from molestation is an “unhappily ever after”.An innocence short-lived, requisitioned by predatory but woefully common events. It was middle school, I was in the 6th grade, and him the 7th. The access was all too convenient — an everyday occurrence on the bus ride home from school. From my waking moments in the early hour of 6 AM until the dusk of school at 3 PM, my days overflowed with anxiety, loneliness, bullying, school suspensions, fear of my molester and my father (another topic for another entry). I’d been tormented by the other kids due to my obscure accent/dialect — I was still pretty “fresh”, having been born and raised in Jamaica.

My parents always told me not to fight back, but I never could abide by it. I ended up fighting a lot, in self-defense. Either way, it meant I was suspended a lot. Being suspended 70% of my 6th grade school year was, at first, the only reprieve from my molester. That was until he developed a convenient thirst. One in which he’d come to my mom’s door (who couldn’t be home very often as she operated as a single mom for quite some time), for random glasses of water.Why didn’t I tell an adult? I tried to muster what I could. There was an opportunity one day for me to speak to my bus driver before “he” got on the bus. I asked her to make him never to sit next to me again (we didn’t have assigned seats).

She asked me why.

I couldn’t verbally answer. I did the only thing I felt strong enough to do. I looked into her eyes, and it was as if she’d seen into my nightmares in that moment, and saw the utter fear I had. At least, that’s what I thought, so I didn’t actually say anything else to her. I sat down in my usual seat, and he sat next to me.. as usual.

The events that followed had become customary. He’d wait until the bus pulled off from school. For the first five to ten minutes he’d ignore me. I always attempted to pretend he and my environment didn’t exist. I’d curl as close to the window panel as I could, looking through it, watching the cars and trees pass by. It was only the calm before the common storm.

He’d move his hand to my leg, and then to my groin on top of my school pants. And then he would play “the grabbing game”, sometimes missing, but often succeeding. The visceral, physical reaction was not indicative of my emotional or psychological state nor desires. But what did he know, or care? He was only doing what I allowed him to do, right?

This happened for the majority of the 4 (of 9) school months I wasn’t suspended.

I’d been suspended so much for fighting back. I was almost always outnumbered by my bullies, having once fought 5 kids at once (I lost that fight viciously). Why couldn’t, or wouldn’t, I fight my molester? It’s an answer that has eluded me. But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s an irrelevant question.

The question I look at now is “Did it destroy you?”Thankfully, the answer is no. Though, it definitely could have. In high school, I embarked down the path that is often created by the gateway of having been molested. However, no matter what your spiritual belief is, or isn’t, I now equate it to God’s grace over my life.

He provided healing when weed, alcohol, sex, and money couldn’t.
He provided comfort when a warm body, food, and tears couldn’t.

And he provided value when rewards, accolades, volunteering, and education couldn’t.We are not alone. And we have nothing to be ashamed of. We are valued, and loved, and we will always have someone to turn to even when we feel like no one can help us.

This is the beginning of me using my life as a means of sharing the love I’ve experienced from God, and his redemptive power.

Pain and suffering festers and grows in the midst darkness and shame, but healing and recovery begins with the light, and the love of Christ.

If you ever need someone to speak to, I will do my best, in my human capacity, to be there for you.