Don’t tell…

I’ve often been asked
why I did not report
the times I was
sexually assaulted
as an adult.

Until now,
I had only known that
my silence was because of fear.

But I didn’t really know 
the source of that fear
until today.

Watching a show on women 
accused of 
the false reporting of
sexual assault and 
subsequently being imprisoned.

(Imagine being a rape victim

imprisoned for reporting your rapist!!)

 

I realized
at this moment 
that
I never reported
what happened to me as an adult 
because 
I was a child sexually assaulted 
many times, 
as well as physically abused.

And no one ever believed me then
either
when I told.

My most significant
childhood memory 
is telling my mother

(when I was sixteen)

that her father was molesting us,

my five sisters and me.

I thought she was going to kill me

I can still see her enraged face, 

her hands ripping the hair out of my head,

screaming at me because 

I was 

accusing a great man

of such heinous acts.

I was a lying whore, 

in her estimation

for my imprudent words.

An interesting assessment

as I was still technically

a virgin

at that point…

(no thanks to her fucker of a father).

The kid me got the message:
don’t  tell 
or 
you’ll be severely punished

or maybe even

die.

The adult me

got the message too.

The adult me

never told 

either

though the world 

did a thorough job of

punishing me

anyway.

(“Victim/Suspect”, 2023, airing on Netflix)