The Female Side to Rape by Ejura Salihu

Last week's letter 'Dear Aunty Timi' was a heart's cry. If you haven't read it, please read HERE. That letter pictures the pain some have been forced to endure for many years. The scar is carried all through childhood to adulthood with little chance of total healing because the world is not listening to the cries. The muffled screams from a little girl next door while her body and innocence is taken from her forcefully by someone who should protect her, goes unnoticed because everyone is too busy to care. 

Scenarios may differ but the crime remains the same with the child growing up to be an adult with sad broken memories and a stolen childhood. As Miss J narrated her ordeal, the first thing I realised was how she seemed just as frightened as a little girl again, the broken trust still rang through her words. Her only question still remains 'Why Aunty Timi?' There are so many articles, stories out there about abusive uncles, but aunties rape too. It is harder to imagine and easier than you think for it to happen to any toddler. As a parent, when you need a maid, you feel safer getting a female maid since stories of male helps abusing girls is so rampant. A relative calls informing you of a planned visit and you heave a sigh of relief that its your younger sister. Your precious little daughter should be safe right? Hmmm...sadly that is not always the case. Aunties rape too! Female helps molest young girls too and even boys (we will talk about that some other day).

Real Rape: What Nobody is Telling You

He ignored me. He betrayed me. He broke me into a million pieces. It was as if someone had cut me open, slashed deeply into each of my organs and stitched me back up again to live a nightmare-bleeding from the inside out. I didn’t know I had become a statistic for a crime that you never hear about.

We, as a society, hear the word rape and picture a woman being attacked in a dark alley by some drifter. We, as media-educated drones, envision a college co-ed going to a party and being assaulted by a gang of frat boys. We, as women, imagine some sicko holding a knife to our throats to get what he wants. Is that rape? You bet. But, all those scenarios account only a few percentage of the cases reported.

That leaves 72%* of rapes that don’t fit the stereotype. Huh? How can we not know what most rapes are like? That doesn’t make any sense. What we know as rape isn’t the majority. Why? How can it be that so many rapes committed aren’t what we know rape to be? No one wants to talk about real rape. No one wants to put it out there for discussion. No one wants to admit that our society has a large majority of rapes that are unspeakable, let alone unthinkable. Or even worse, society just doesn’t think the majority is as bad as the stereotype. If that’s the case, we’re dead wrong-every last one of us.

Standing on the Sidelines By Ejura Salihu

In the chaos of the terror we know as Boko Haram, we are awakened everyday to the reminder that over 270 young ladies live the nightmare of rape, abuse and violence per hour. The helplessness makes me mad, we keep hoping the nightmare ends soon but its been over 50days and hopes must be diming in the minds of these precious angels. I keep hope alive though knowing one day these young ladies will be survivors sharing their stories with strength and undiminished soul like the women of valor I have met on this blog.

I keep praying for continued strength for all survivors and all going through every form of abuse. Some people believe if it didn't happen to you or it didn't hit close to home, its not your business but I disagree! I don't think this fight is for just survivors, some of us are here to chant your praises when you get scared to speak, cheer you on when discouraged and weak. We will always be here to listen and pray for you. I have never claimed to know or even be capable of imagining what being a survivor feels like. I can't claim to know the pain you have dealt with. I do know its not easy for you to heal and speak up, I do know its not fair for it to have happened in the first place, I do know more should be done to stop the scourge and I do know you possess a strength many of us could never dream of possessing. 

I am proud of every single survivor. You are Phenomenal!

This is My Story

We have been calling for (rape) stories that express courage, strength and bravery. We have had many survivors share their story (read some HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE), this is one from Aduke. Enjoy the read.

This is my story….it’s not a movie... it’s not a script… it’s my reality... it’s my story. I was 8years old... Yes 8years…I’m 32years old now but 24 years would always seem like yesterday when I was deprived of being a child… I want to be a child, crave for it but I’ve lost it forever.

I remember it vividly... My elder brother Emeka had returned from school, he was in the university, we were all excited and happy. We had all gone to the boy’s quarters to stay and greet him… he bought kwili kwili and other northern varieties not common in the east where we lived.

My sisters where there and uncle Obi was there too. Uncle Obi had come from the village not too long ago to live with us he was about 25years old. The same age with my eldest brother. He used to call me his small wife and I would giggle and we would all laugh… I was too small to be his wife but he always would buy me sweets and chewing gum and other things for school. My dad used to give us all those nice things too, so it was no big deal for me.

If You Are Healing...

If you are healing from sexual assault and you get out of bed in the morning, you are doing well.

If you are healing from sexual assault and you hold down a job, you are amazing.
If you are healing from sexual assault and you are still remotely pleasant to others, you are a lot nicer.
If you are healing from sexual assault and you cannot always be there for a friend, you need to think twice, your friends and families need you more.

If you are healing from sexual assault, and find it difficult to care for yourself, but still find the strength to care and love your family, then you are strong as well.
If you are healing from sexual assault and you decide to tell your story, you are brave.
If you are healing from sexual assault and you decide that you are not ready to tell your story, you are also brave but you NEED to #SpeakOut before its too late.

Free At Last: The Concluding Part

We started this series and this is the concluding part of her story. For those who missed the first part, read it HERE. We hope you enjoy how the story ended.

After the well wishers had all gone and left us to enjoy our wedding evening, I slipped into the balcony with a bottle of wine, I didn't even bother with a glass. Settled on the chair at the corner, gazing at the birds, flying home as the stars began to make their appearance.

Life must be so easy for them, I thought as I sipped the wine absent-mindedly. Never having to worry about complicated relationships, love, hatred, fear, insecurity! Never having to wake up at night, screaming from a nightmare, almost every night. Never having the man they hate most for a father-in-law! I wished I was a bird, flying high, without a care in the world. As free as a bird. I felt the tear flow down my cheek.

I jerked as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around in shock only to look in the eyes of my least favorite person. What was the mans problem? Could he not just stay away? Or better still, trip on the Ikeja express and be crushed to death by speeding cars? God help me but my life would be so much easier if he decided to just kicked the bucket! I'll even buy him the best coffin!

Free At Last: The Tale of a Rape Survivor

I couldn't be happier. Yesterday, we were formally introduced to our families. Sam comes in to "thief fish" from the pot of egusi soup. He is so naughty. He hugs me from behind and whispers in my left ear, 'I can't wait for this to be permanent.' 'I can't wait either.' I say amidst chuckles. 'Thank God we don't have too long to wait anymore.'

'Yeah. Thank God. He must love me sooooo much he gave you to me.' I laugh even more. Sam and his sugar coated tongue.

The doorbell rings. 'I'll get it.' I say as I leave the kitchen. I rush to the living room to open the door. Blood drained from my face leaving me as pale as death. The smile on my face is replaced by a look of shock as recognition sets in. Cold shivers run down my spine and memories race in.

'It Can Only Get Better,' says a Survivor

Hello everyone, thanks for always taking time out to visit our blog. For those of you who are familiar with our #SpeakOut sessions with various survivors such as @Abdulhabiba12 (read HERE) and @Smartsensitive (read HERE), you would have noticed that we've been posting inspirational and educative/nformative articles they themselves have written (read HERE, HERE and HERE). This is from @Smartsensitive, we hope it ministers to you.

Writing has always been my passion. For a long time after I got raped all my creativity was stifled including my voice. I couldn't wake up in the morning and smile, I used to drag my body out of bed and look dowdy everyday and be like, 'at least no one wants to rape me now.' That's one of the signs of abuse; you could say some of it was PTSD. It is a form of depression army or marine offices sometimes get after being in the war. You could say rape is a kind of war, you deal with the after effects afterwards, one thing you know is that you want to get better, you just don't know when your emotions will get back in place. If I can get better, I know that you can.

My Sexual Assault Story: A Survivor Bares It All!

I didn’t want to write this story after all. How could I even begin to talk about the shameful acts? I grew up in a middle class family, a close knit one and a place where laughter rang out fairly often. I had everything I wanted and grew up to become an avid reader.

The Beginning

The sexual abuse began around the age of seven or eight and even though the ‘uncle’ didn’t go as far as having sex with me, he made me touch him on his private parts and also touched me. Little girl as I was then; I didn’t know what was going on and I was never to tell my mother. Thinking about it I don’t think my mother would have understood how I felt. She would have made me undergo a deliverance session and sent the ‘uncle’ away. The abuses continued till he left and another took his place, this time my cousin and he did exactly the same thing the ‘uncle’ did.


He left and another cousin took his place but this time it was a female, she made me touch her breasts and private parts but never touched me and gave me strict warnings never to mention it to my parents.