The Cruelty of Female Genital Mutilation & Beyond: A Poem
When I was little
My mother took me for the candies
I was happy…
In a dingy lane, she
Showed me to an old lady
They murmured and hushed something…
I was a bit intimidated
But happy for the candies!
A seemingly happy day, it became my worst nightmare
She opened my legs, and
Cut off a lump of meat
From my pubis
I SHREIKED in pain
I forgot every good thing
I didn’t recover…
I lost my clitoris
It thought it was the worst thing that
Could ever happen to someone
But I guess there was more to come…
I wasn’t more than a robot
Everyone could take control
Rip and twist and roll
Years later, my old man found me a man his age
He came to see me…
When I was barely eight plus eight
That man looked too old to be my husband
In my family…
Everyone does everything
To be more respectable
To please society
So my parents ruined my life and visions for the future…
With pomp and show
My mother took me to the corner
And gave me a white sheet
She told me I must bleed
And submit in front of my old god
Society would praise and clap for this act
I wasn’t ready for this official rape
I begged my old god
He gave me two days to prepare…
But I think, he too, was pressurized to prove his manliness
He showed me what his previous wives had seen
I was ready to bleed
And to give the world a souvenir
It had been waiting for…
When all the forced pleasure came to an end,
I saw nothing on the sheets
The man next to me was disappointed and angry
I couldn’t figure my mistake
I was scared
I wished the rose petals on the sheets turned sanguine
I wished I had a knife to rupture and prove my sanity…
The next day, I was taken back to my parents…
Because apparently, virgins who don’t bleed are liars
My father’s pride was hurt…
How could I tell I was innocent without proof?
I was innocent and only sixteen…
I hoped I wasn’t born at all
Neither trusted my creators
Nor obeyed them, or loved the lollipops…
One night, I ran away…
Chasing the life I was deprived of…
Setting an example for my siblings I left behind…
I thought no one loved me
People hated freedom fighters like me…
It’s okay, I told myself
I have left everything behind…
Sadly, there are millions like me
Some dead, some alive, the rest aren’t born yet…
Who is to blame anyway?
The tormentors, the victims, or the people who see everything and still choose silence…
Do you have a story about a health condition or medical procedure? One of those you tell people at parties, and everyone bursts out laughing at your misfortune? Or maybe one of those you’ve never shared with fear of being a downer? We would love to hear it! Contribute to Innards, and join the team.
