My biological father began molesting me when I was five. He made me lick his anus. He sodomized me, choking me from behind on the floor of our bathroom.
I told my mother when I was 10 years old. (She now tells people that she did not know about the molestation.) She even cried and told me she did not know.
My mother is a dark-skinned black woman. My father was a very light skinned black male. My mother now tells anyone who will listen that, "she was married to a white man." This seems to be the main reason whey she has such low self-esteem and the reason why it was okay for not only my father but my sisters and her to make me a victim. I use that term because, I am the darkest of the children. And anything my father did to me was okay. When he attempted to molest my youngest sister by faking a heart attack, my mother told people she would kill my father if he hurt D.
My father used to promise me that he would beat, (not whip but beat) me if my shoes were dirty when I came home from school. I would lick my shoes before entering the house. My father would be standing in his closet whistling while selecting ties and belts for my beating. He would strip me and tie me securely to the chair and beat me. He beat my sister Janelle so badly one time that she defacated on the floor and had whelts all over her body. She was my mother's favorite so that stopped. It never stopped for me.
I have cut ties with my mother and sisters. They even dislike black people and prefer only white people. My sister Lola became angry when I reminded her that her father was black. They all lie to themselves. But, according to them because I have "dwelt" on these small matters, I am crazy. I am 45 years old now, I am black and Dear God, I am here.
by Andion 29 Sep 2004
When I was 14 my mum and dad were out and my older brother had a party. I went to the shop because these two blokes were annoying me and asking me personal questions, touching my legs and trying to kiss me and touch my breasts. I had to get out. No-one noticed this was happening and all I can think now is that it wouldn't have happened if someone had.
On my way back from the shop I was grabbed from behind and dragged down a passage. I heard two voices and it was the blokes from the party. They ripped my top and pulled off my trousers. I was being held down. Then one of them pushed himself inside me so roughly I couldn't even scream because the pain was so bad. He made me feel disgusting. He was making such revolting noises and the other was sniggering and trying to suck my breasts. I can't believe the feeling of helplessness. When he finally finished I just felt relived it was over and I could go. But they swapped. It happened all over again. Struggling made it more painful.
I ended up pregnant and miscarrying. I tried to kill myself but it didn't work. So of course my family know about it. They have been very supportive but I found this place and it feels good to know I am not alone, although in a way I wish I was because this shouldn't happen to so many people.
Take care x
by Amy on 27 Sep 2004
I am 17 years old and last year I was raped by my 31 year old brother. I was always so close to him and he had to do this. It was a hot day and I was in my bikini at my pool. My brother had came from a hard days work so he got a beer took of his shirt and pants and jumped in the pool. At first we were just talking and stuff but then he told me that he didnít want sunburn and told me to rub some tan on his back. I had no objection to this and I rubbed. We started talking and later he told me if I wanted a massage. I agreed, and he started rubbing my back. He started saying how beautiful I was and how I had a trillionaire body.
Then slowly he started fondling my breasts. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He then rubbed is face against by a*s and started to take out my bikini with his mouth. I struggled but it I couldnít do anything. He was muscular and at least 70 pounds more than me. He then flipped me around and while taking my bra out, he started to finger my vagina. I started screaming but no one was at home and his wife wasnít there. Then the worst thing happened. He took out a gun and said that if I didnít listen to him, he would kill me. So I had to abide by his rules. I took off his pants, shirt, and underwear, and started to suck his penis. He forced me in a 69 position so he was sucking my vagina at the same time. After this he performed oral sex for 20 minutes, and then told me to spread my legs apart. I struggled but he had the gun. He put his penis in and started fuc*ing me. He did this for 2 hours, and then laughing he left. I knew he had ejaculated to me, and I called the police right away. He thought that I was too scared to tell but I did. That sorry excuse for a brother is behind bars now, and I am starting to get my life back again. I had to quit school because of harassment, from other girls, and I sympathize with all of you. Thanks for letting me share my feelings.
by Thanraj mohanarajon 26 Sep 2004
I can't remember when it started - I must have been between five years old and seven years old. It continued for years, until I was twelve and a half.
My Dad sexually abused my twin sister and I for years - without my mum knowing. My mum died when I was 22, and I never told her the truth. I was numb, I was just too scared.
My dad was and is a very clever man. He touched us sitting on the couch, giving me an orgasm when I was so little I didn't know what had happened. He then asked me if I was alright. Bastard. I believed it was my fault - I felt the shame that I was somehow responsible.
He would come and 'test' us on our times tables while we were in the bath - but the worst was the simulated sex that destroyed me, but still left me a virgin technically.
Mum was a midwife - and dad would have everything planned. He would stop at our door where we had been asleep for a couple of hours (mum left for work at 11pm) and ask us who wanted to come to his bed for a 'cuddle'. I felt guilty, pity, compassion I suppose, and I would go with him so he wouldn't be lonely......don't kids have such big hearts?
He had a towel already in the bed to catch his sperm...and waited for me. He would be dissappointed if I had knickers on under my nightie, and I didn't want to disappoint him. He would run his rough hands under my nightie and touch where my breasts were starting to develop. He would touch my vagina and after a few years, commented on the growth of my pubic hair. He was very careful not to enter my vagina - so there would be no evidence against him. He would get excited (while I would lie there and think about prostitution)then he would hold me to his chest (horrible flashbacks) and masturbate between my legs...holding them close together, catching the sperm in the towel. I would lie there, sometimes struggling to breathe (I was so little my head didn't reach his shoulder...and sometimes he would forget about me under the covers, so I would fight to get my head above them).
It continued in many ways, even though that was the most common.
He would wait outside the toilet in the middle of the night for a look at me when I went to the toilet. I would panic that he would be there.
He masturbated into the toilet in front of me, telling me factually about sex. I din't know at the time that this was abuse as well.
I was in the bath and he undressed and hopped in with me. I was stunned. He asked me to touch him. As I felt his balls, he leant back and groaned with pleasure. I was pleasing my dad - and that was important to me...I never wanted to rock the boat. I was such a shy and awkward girl who got teased at school and just took it. I had no self esteem.
I used to think I was the one who was wrong. My dad asked me to take off the bottom of my togs and he would drag me around the pool by my ankles. I finally did, and then struggled to get free when I realised he was looking at my vagina. I told him I had noticed where he was looking....and he said that that was why he had asked me to take them off of course. I felt stupid.
Mum had been sexually abused when she was little - and she ended up marrying a monster like this. It was horrible - we were going to church and looking like the perfect family......I tried to act normal.
My sister developed bulimia and depression, while I was 'fine'...until mum died. that year hI got drunk for the first time, slept with a guy I had only met twice (staying with him in a relationship for several months)...then straight onto my next boyfriend.....I was clubbing, drinking, smoking...I needed sexual attention to feel alive. I felt at least I could be good at something.
Now I am married, and I am still struggling with depression (on medication at the moment)....but I HAVE CONFRONTED MY DAD! BOY IT FELT GOOD! I CALLED HIM A WANKER. TO HIS FACE....I did it properly - with his counsellor, and a support person for me....he said he doesn't remember some things....but I am going to read my angry poems to his face until my anger has drained.
(He went to counselling when I threatened him with police involvement - such a nice family man doesn't want a record......)
by Sarahon 25 Sep 2004
Well I am 16 years old, and you can call me Lena...you can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you feel the need for any reason...to talk or whatever, ask questions...
My story started a long time ago, Iím not ready to talk about those wounds right now, not that I haven't ever, but they're closing up so I don't feel like bringing all of them up. Just a few for now. The main one...he was 25, I was 14. He didn't exactly force me into anything, just demons coming back to me about him, about myself. A lot of it is not that bad, he could have been ok but it haunts me sometimes by the way he would try to be degrading to me at that time in my life, at that age. If it would have been just sex, it would be weird a little still..but he would twist me in ways he shouldn't have, tell me he was going to get with my mom, make all kinds of jokes and scenarios up and he'd laugh if I got mad. Then he really did start talking to her, but it was just to fuck with me, she didn't even look at him like that. He liked that shit. He liked it.
At first, I hated it, but I went through so much before that, you donít' even know, but a part of me was looking for something from him..a few weeks before this, I slept w/a 22 year old and I started feeling guilty, told him to stop...but he wouldn't. He just kissed me on the face and said to wait. Bastard. So even though I can't say he raped me, something in me changed for a little bit...I didn't turn down his advances...I mean, we were cool, it's just when he was a bastard that bugs me...he would dig his elbow into my leg and wouldn't get off me, I couldn't get him up, then he'd laugh, dumb shit...but who would get off on doing that to a little girl's head? Because he did. I was 14/15, the only thing that made me think about this again is reading an entry in my diary...I was like a baby still though.
by Lenaon 24 Sep 2004
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This site is offered for support of other survivors, it is not meant to be a substitute for any kind of professional help. I don't have any qualifications or training in therapy, I am by no means a professional. I claim no responsibility for the use of this web site, use of content, or content of any links leading from this site. If you are in a crisis situation I urge you to contact your local rape crisis center or health care professional.