Wednesday, December 7, 2016

A Letter and A Prayer


When I was six years old, I gave my first bl*wjob.“It’s a game”, said He. “Don’t you want to play?”
It was too big, and I threw up on him.
He said I’d do better the next time.

When I was seven years old, I watched a group of fellow second graders cheer as a boy in my class tried to kiss me. He hugged me from behind, giggling all the while.
I threw sand in his eyes, and was sent to the Principal.

When I was eight years old, I had an elderly teacher ask me to stay behind in class. He carried me on his shoulders, and called me pretty.
“Teacher’s Pet!” my friends declared, the envy visible on their faces.
They ignored me at lunch that day.

When I was nine years old, an older girl on the school bus would ask me to lift my skirt up for her. She was pretty and kind, and told me that I could only be her friend if I did what she said.
I wanted to be her friend.

When I was ten years old, a relative demanded that he get a kiss on the cheek every time we met. He was large and loud, and I proceeded to hide under my bed whenever I learnt that he was visiting.
I was known as a rude child.

When I was eleven, my auto-man told me that we would only leave if I gave him a hug every day.
He smelled like cheap soap and cigarettes.

When I was twelve years old, I watched as a man on the street touched my mother’s breast as he passed us. She slapped him amidst the shouts of onlookers telling her to calm down.
She didn’t calm down.

When I was thirteen years old, I exited a restaurant only to see a man visibly masturbating as he walked towards me. As he passed, he winked lasciviously.
My friends and I shifted our gazes down, aghast.

When I was fourteen, a young man in an expensive car followed me home as I walked back from an evening class. I ignored his offer to give me a ride, and I panicked when he got out, only to buy me a box of chocolate that I refused. He parked at the end of my road, and didn’t go away for an hour.
“It turns me on to see you so scared.”

When I was fifteen, I was groped on a bus. It was with a heart full of shame that I confided in a friend, only to be met with his anger and disappointment that I had not shouted at the molester at the time when it happened. My soft protests of being afraid and alone were drowned out as he berated my inaction. To him, my passiveness and silence were the reasons why things like this continue to happen.
He did not wait for my response.

When I was sixteen, I discovered that Facebook had a section of inbox messages named ‘others’, which contained those mails received from strangers, automatically stored as spam. Curious, I opened it to find numerous messages from men I had never seen before. I was propositioned, called sexy, asked for nudes, and insulted.
Delete message.

When I was seventeen, I called for help as a drunken man tried to sexually harass me in a crowded street.
The people around me seemed to walk by quicker.

At eighteen, I was told that sexism doesn’t exist in modern society.
I was told that harassment couldn’t be as bad as us women make it out to be.
That I should watch what I wear.
Never mind you were six, never mind you were wearing pink pajamas.
That I should be louder.
But not too loud, a lady must be polite.
That I should always ask for help.
But stop overreacting, there’s a difference.
That I should stay in at night, because it isn’t safe.
You can’t get harassed in broad daylight.
That I should always travel with no less than two boys with me.
You need to be protected.

That it can’t be that hard to be a girl.

I am now nineteen years old.
I am now tired.

By Anonymous
Artwork by Mayka



Eloquent, Heartbreaking and for those many who are Blind to the World - Very, very Common. This does not shock me - I have heard this life story from hundreds of women, all with their own unique, sickening twists. I also have my own horror stories. Very few women have the luxury of fearlessness in the day-to-day. I am working on giving my fears to God - but that doesn't mean I am safe. It just means that when I get hurt - He has promised to Heal me.

God doesn't promise our hearts, mind and bodies won't Break in following Him. In fact - He warns us that they will. But He does promise to make us anew every morning. Every Moment of Every Day God is putting together the pieces that have been Broken. He is making us into the Most Beautiful Masterpieces - the likes I cannot even Imagine. And although my heart is still broken, my mind is still shattered - and people are constantly stomping on the pieces - or I am throwing them across the room in Rage. He is God. He owns my very Soul and Guards it with His Life. Sacrificed His Son's Life to Save it.

He's basically Santy Clause on Heavenly Steroids. Despite how much work there is to do to in a limited amount of time, He is easily able to keep up. And He ends up being Ahead of Schedule too! I swear I would NOT have believed you last year if you described who I am today. And so - Life becomes a Cha-Cha: I'm dancing across the Ballroom - Two steps Forward and One step Back. Slowly, but surely - I will make it through this Life.

I don't ask God for much. And I Certainly do NOT ask Him for something as Naive as General Safety. My Number One Prayer Request is that He reminds me why this Life is Worth It. I ask Him to Prove to me why I should care when it's Rough. And He does. Every Time. He doesn't have to - but He does :') And that is Enough. You can go through Anything when He answers a Prayer like that. Thank You my Lord.

Thank You for Your Faithfulness to a Scared, Weak, Rebellious girl - who, like so many others - is often Tired. Tired of this Game called Life. You give me the Strength to not only Survive it - but to even begin to Enjoy it. I never asked for that. Never expected that to even be attainable. But you saw not only what I needed - but also what I wanted.

Now I cannot Imagine how anyone who has You as their Savior - could possibly want anyone but You to be in control of their life! How do we - How do I - so often forget that you have me covered?! Don't let me forget Lord. Even if it hurts - don't let me forget why I need You. Why I love You. Don't let me run away EVER Again. Don't let me even want to! I beg You Lord, let me Live for You and Only You, all the Days of this Life.

Amen
<3 Not the End of a Prayer - simply a Pause between Prayers <3


No comments:

Post a Comment