Call it what it is!

Hello people of earth. I'm not very good at small talk so I'll just go straight to the point.

Today has been one of those days when I was forced to sit down and contemplate the meaning of humanity. There is so much going on, there's so much evil and pain and suffering that one cannot just sit down and keep quiet, so I'll do the only thing I know how to do best, I'll talk.

From the George Floyd murder to the murder of Uwa in a church in Benin, there's so much to talk about, but I can't talk about everything at once, so today is for rape and abuse.

42.2% of rape victims were under the age 18 when they were first raped. What this means is that even a child with barely developed sexual organs is not safe. What this also means is that you probably know at least five people who have been sexually abused as children (both male and female).

You can't leave your 5 year old with Uncle Tunde because you never can tell where and how Uncle Tunde will touch her. You can't even leave your 7 year old son with your house help because Aunty Shade might be too horny to resist a little boy. A few days ago, I came across a story on Twitter about a 3 month old  baby who was raped and I have to ask why? What could a 3 month old possibly have to offer you? What pleasure could you possibly derive?

What exactly is the problem? Where did we go wrong?

The world is no longer a safe place for women and children, not that it ever has been.

When I was in 100L, a friend of mine told me about how he went for a graduation party at Auchi Poly. He said before the girls got there, the guys had injected all the bottles of coke with Spanish fly and other things, which I've been told increases arousal in a woman. Unsuspecting girls took the drinks and got very horny and high because of the other things that had been mixed in the drink. Needless to say, the guys had a filled day, they had sex with the girls and the girls couldn't even say no, they weren't even given the chance to decide for themselves if they wanted it or not. I was angry, I was livid and when I said so, this so-called friend said that the girls shouldn't have come to the party if they didn't want to be raped. This is the part where I shouted. 

What this means is that I can no longer go to a party without being afraid. My father told me to never leave my opened drink unattended in a party, but that doesn't even work anymore. I can no longer trust a sealed bottle of coke offered to me by a so-called friend at a party.

Needless to say, I am no longer friends with this individual.

Uwa's story means that I can no longer feel safe in a church. I can no longer go to the house of God to find peace.

Let's not even talk about the children raped by law enforcement officials, pastors and imams every day. Or the ones raped by their fathers, their brothers, their uncles, their housemaids and so called family members.

I am most disgusted by the women who help in perpetrating these heinous acts. Women like those at that party who stood by and watched their friends drug girls like them. I watched a documentary of a prostitute who said she was first raped by her foster father when she was 6 and her foster mother knew about it. She knew about it and turned a blind eye.

Why?

While we're on this, we should also talk about the guys who use emotional blackmail and gaslight their victims. We should talk about the tons of girls in abusive relationships and the ones who doubt their sanity because they can't even explain what is happening to them, we should talk about them too.

Let's not also forget the ones who are too scared to talk about their scars, the ones who have nightmares because of their memories.

My heart goes out to the unheard voices, the ones whose tears will never be seen, the ones who will never talk about their pain and their experiences because they are afraid of being called liars or attention whores.

My heart goes out to the victims of violence everywhere.

My heart goes out to the women and children being abused right now, wherever they may be.

My heart goes out to those whose stories will never be heard.

Today is for the dozens, hundreds, millions of women who no longer feel safe in their own homes. Today is for the ones whose stories will never be heard, for the ones who are no longer free to walk on the street at night, or even in day time. Today is for all the women who have been groped or touched without their permission. Today is for all the women who live in fear of being abused. Today is for the women who no longer have the courage to talk about their experiences because they are afraid of being called liars. Today is for Uwa, who was raped and brutally murdered in a church. Today is for the 12 year old who was raped by 11 men in her hometown. Today is for the girl who was raped and murdered by her brother's best friend. Today is for the three month old who will never be able to understand why she went through what she went through. Today is for all the children who live in fear of their uncles and aunties that touch them in all the wrong places.

And if like me, you no longer know who to trust anymore, if you no longer feel free to dress the way you want, to go out when you want, to walk where you want without fear, if you live with childhood traumas because of abuse, if you no longer feel free to leave your child, sister, brother, cousin, niece, nephew, friend, with anybody, this is for you too.

Uwa might be dead, other victims might be dead, other victims might be too scared to talk about their experiences, but I'm not.

My voice is not dead and while some people might say, what could talking about it possibly do?, I know that I can't possibly just sit down and keep quiet.

Have a nice week.

Please, be kind.

©May