I still haven’t figured out how to stop blaming myself for what happened. It’s not as bad as it use to be but I still think about it... I’ve made some bad choices but that doesn’t make it right. No matter what I did, it wasn’t my fault. No matter what I had on, it still wasn’t my fault. It doesn’t matter if I knew him before we went out, or where we went, it still wasn’t my fault, After so many years of blaming myself, it’s your fault and yours alone. May god have mercy on your soul.

Dream Merchant

I am the dream merchant. Sexually open for the world to see. I take much satisfaction in pleasing you however you my like.

Giving you what you want, I get nothing from it but your money. I don’t care if it feels good.....don’t give a fuck if I cum or not. It doesn’t matter to me; I just want your money.

I let my past get the best of me. I let it consume my mind body and soul. And that’s where I fucked up at. So I’ll make you pay for it. No time for intimacy, love or even a decent conversation. You mean nothing to me; I’m good at lying to get what I want from you. And that’s cash. But looking at me, you’ll never know it.

I will make you pay for what they took from me, by any means necessary. I fuckin can’t stand your nasty ass. The way you look, the way you smell everything about you I have.

That past four years I want........no I will make you feel the same pain I did just because I can.
Be careful what you ask for, I might look like eye candy but I will make your life a living fuckin hell...
©Golden Rays




I’m watching Bill Cunningham show and they are talking to this one female who is prostituting herself for money. She’s almost 30 and she does things for money. Well her friends are one the show to tell her how she needs to change for her daughter and how she’s destroying her life and how she doesn’t care about her child. So the one who was prostituting was like my daughter is taken care of, she’s not here, I can’t see her so who cares. We’ll all three of them are yelling at each other to the point of being loud and annoying. So then she finally came out and said what was going on with her.

She told her friends how she was tired of being raped and abused, how she was abused by her family since she was a child, how her ex-boyfriend had been abusive to her. The men she was with was abusing her. She told her friends that she prostitutes because it’s the only way she deals with the pain that she doesn’t care because she’s tired of feeling lonely and used.

Her friends response was who cares yours still a whole, you’re still selling yourself and their whole conversation ended up being both her friends calling her a weak ass bitch.

I have a lot to say about this whole topic. I understand completely what that woman is going through, I’ve been there before. I’ve hit rock bottom and almost lost my family. A lot of people do not understand the wounds of child abuse/rape and how deep they go. They don’t understand that something that happened to you when you were 5 can affect you until the day you die. It’s a wound that you can’t see and because it happens a while ago from the time we actually come out and speak about it, people automatically assume that we should be over it by now. That we have no reason to complain, that we weren’t killed so that makes it ok. They down play the whole situation and the victims feelings.

We don’t choose to carry around these feelings with us every day. If only you knew how hard it is to get up in the morning and move because it feels like your vagina is being ripped apart because the body memories you’re having from the rape you experienced as a child. Or walking around every day trying to eat because your gag reflex is so bad that it’s hard for you to swallow food because of the oral sex you were forced to perform. They don’t know about the nightmares, the flashbacks, and the anxiety that comes along with it. They don’t understand the shame we feel because it does affect our families. The blame we have when we do into a new relationship and our partners can’t touch us. It all comes along with it.

On the other hand I also understand why she started prostituting. They say that a lot of prostitutes were abused as children which make them more susceptible to being prostitutes, using drugs, being in relationships with abusive partners.



“For many women, prostitution and sexual exploitation might be the only life they know. The average age for girls entering prostitution is between 12-13. ** And studies show that 75 to 95% of all prostitutes were sexually abused as children. ***
http://www.womenslaw.org/simple.php?sitemap_id=148”

I understand how she’s feeling because after I was attacked when I was living on my own I freakd out. At the time I had so much stuff going on with me. I had just started to having bad flash backs again and one night I went out with a girlfriend, I wasn’t drinking I wasn’t smoking anything I was just me and her and I was raped. I don’t remember anything because I had been slipped the date rape drug. My ex- husband (he was my boyfriend) found me on our front door leaned up against it damn near unconscious with a bottle in my hand. I don’t drink cheap alcohol but that’s what was in the bag. I had remembered some parts of it, I don’t remember his face just certain things. Shortly after that rape I was robbed and a friends boyfriend tried to assault me. Frank had started coming around and threatening me because of my ex best friend.

Within that short period of time (a 6 month period) I had been raped, robbed and assaulted and harassed by Frank who was the first man to rape me. I was dealing with the flashbacks from being molested, the body memories from Banky and I had no one to talk to. Me and my ex had broken up because I couldn’t deal with my flashbacks, he told me I had too many issues and I needed help. I didn’t have anyone to go to. I didn’t have support from my family. They blamed me for the rape, my friends at the time thought it was all a joke and I had lost my best friend because I couldn’t deal with the feelings from being abused.
I had actually thought about stripping. But I quickly changed my mind. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to degrade myself, it wasn’t because I thought about my morals it was I thought I was too fat and too ugly to be a stripper, that no man would pay me to take off my clothes and dance for them. So I had seriously considered being a prostitute. It wasn’t even for the money for me. I had felt like if men are going to take it from me why not make them pay for it. What am I getting out of it but being hurt? If they are going to hurt me I could at least get something out of it. I was so use to being used that it was the only thing I knew and felt. I didn’t have friends to talk to, my family wasn’t supportive emotionally, I thought my ex hated me because he was always gone and I was left there by myself all day every day I just didn’t care anymore. As much as I thought about it and as much as I planned in my mind what I was going to do. I never did it. I was never bold enough to do any of it.

The thing about sexual abuse is that it has emotional tolls that damage you more than the actual physical abuse does. If one of my friends called me a weak ass bitch it would probably be the end all of everything. I don’t consider myself weak but I have felt weak before and it’s the most hurtful thing ever to say to a victim (besides blaming them or saying they asked for it). It’s something inside you that hurts so bad that you can’t explain it to other people. It’s a piece of you that gets broken apart and now you have to spend the rest of your life trying to put it back together again. No one understands it unless it’s happened to you before. The outside world just doesn’t get it.

What hurts us more is hanging on to being used to getting abused. After a while after the attacks and emotions we often fall into that victim mode. Where we couldn’t get the help we needed at the time and being a victim is all we know. So sometimes it’s the life that we live every day. It’s so dangerous because when you live the life of a victim it does sendoff vibes to predators. It’s like they pick up on these senses, that’s what they’re good at. It makes us more susceptible to more attacks and assaults. This is not our fault but we can change it with the help of other survivors and advocates.

People may think that we are using what happened to us as an excuse but we aren’t. We don’t want to feel this way, we are just telling you what happened and how we feel about it. We do understand our actions just like you do. We know that we can get through this but telling us to get over it is not one of the ways, especially when we finally do decide to reach out for help.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention guidelines tell us it is a public health epidemic, with one in four girls and one in six boys being victimized before age 18. Pennsylvania alone has more than 3.1million victims. Nationally, it is more than 49 million. A child today has a greater chance of being sexually abused than of being in an automobile accident or breaking a bone.

Honestly sometimes I really don’t know why I even bother doing this crap anymore. Some days I wonder why the hell am I wasting my time writing and posting and spreading the word on something that people just close their eyes to. Some days I feel like just being normal. Waking up one day without having to check my schedule to make sure I don’t miss my therapy secessions. I cry about why I’m wasting energy writing in this blog.

My feelings are hurt. I’m feeling really emotional right now. I just understand how and why so many people ignore what’s going on. Especially those who I thought were close to me, who I thought were a part of my support system. I think that the more I open up my mouth and talk about it, the more people I push away and I think that’s what hurts. Like everyone expects me to be quiet about it and not say anything without regards to my feelings. But then again if I can push you away that easily by speaking the truth, then you weren’t a real friend or a support system to begin with.

I don’t want to deal with this anymore. The only advantage to speaking out and saying something is that maybe someone else will listen to you. Maybe you can help another victim get through the process or even educate someone who didn’t know anything about the topic. I do wish a lot of times that I hadn’t said anything, that I only told on person and that my family and friends never knew. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of people (especially my family) by speaking out. I don’t know if the pros really do outweigh the cons especially when you have nothing to show for it.

I’m drained emotionally; it takes a toll on me. I just keep fighting and I keep getting knocked back down and I can feel my inner demons trying to come back and find me. This is how being raped made me feel. I felt like I was to blame. I was the one who had a drink, I agreed to go out with him and according to society, and I played a part in my own rape. According to them, I should not have had a drink with him, I should not have went out with him, I should not have been lying in bed with my boyfriend because everyone knows that’s how you get raped, by cuddling in the bed with your boyfriend. Damn now if that’s how you cause your own rape to happen then that would mean that every married woman has been raped because before she was married she did lay in bed with her husband cuddling………

How much logical sense does this make? I’m really starting to grasp the concept of there’s no one in this world to protect us but us. There’s no written law to officially protect any victim of rape from being raped. Hell a man can still rape his wife here and not go to jail because she’s his property.

For the past 20 years I’ve had different men had control over my body. I’m just now getting back the feeling that no one can control my body but me. That no one has the rights to my body but me and now some pathetic excuse for a man wants to tell me that if I get raped and get pregnant I have to carry my rapist baby? That if a 13 year old girl gets pregnant by her father, uncle, brother she has to have their child. That there’s no way a woman can get pregnant from a legitimate rape because a woman’s body has a way of shutting the whole thing down. A man is telling me that if I’m not forced down and don’t have any bruises it’s not rape. That if I don’t say no, it’s not rape. That if a 34 year old man has sex with a 17 year old girl that it’s not rape because the age of consent is 16 and 17 is legal and statutory rape applies to 15 and younger.

I’m pissed off and angry. This is really happening people; I don’t want anyone telling me what I can and cannot do with my own body. It’s none of their damn business and they need to butt out.

Talking about it doesn’t hurt, it’s the rejection, the victim blaming, the talks, the politics, the ignorant comments, stares and snares that you face every day that hurt. I’d rather quit and do something a lot less stressful but then I think about how I was feeling when I was looking for someone to turn to. I had searched the web up and down looking for another black woman I could talk to about being raped and about being molested and for years I couldn’t find one or a website of one who is openly talking about it.

I think about my daughter. I’ve been raped enough times so that she shouldn’t have to go through what I’m going through. Everything is out in the open and up front. Everyone’s feelings are on the table and no one is looking down to see them. It’s like that big pink elephant in the room that everyone’s ignoring. I do understand it’s a sensitive and still a taboo subject to talk about BUT ITS REAL. It happens all the time, every day, minute and second of the hour.

Closing your eyes and turning your head does not stop that woman from being raped

It means remember a time when you did not have the power to protect yourself. It means remembering your shame, vulnerability and pain.

"Not having that little girl in your life means that you have lost something. You have not had access to her softness, to her sense of trust and wonder. When you hate the child within, you hate a part of yourself. It is only in taking care of her that you can really learn to nurture yourself."

So in this healing process i have decided to start from the begining of it all. Lately i have been jumping all around trying to put the pieces back together and ive found out that its just not going to work out for me if i do it thisi way. So as painful as it might be, I'm starting over from the start.

Because of everything that is going on with my "mother" and daughter, I found this to be bring back flashbacks of emotional abuse from her and feelings that I had after I was molested. After years of trying to figure out what I had did wrong, why didnt anyone protect me, I realize that none of it was my fault. My "mother" knew that I was molested and she knew who had molested me but she did nothing about it. I had to find this information out from my sister when i confronted her about it. But then again there was no logical reason why I should really trust her on issues like this because all she does is back my mother up in ever single circumstance. "Mother" can do no wrong, shes God of all Gods.

I knew and understood fully at a young age that no one in my family would protect me. My "mother" being the Malignant Narcissists that she is did everything in her power to tear me down to the ground to her level. She wanted to have absolue control over everything I did, from what I ate, what I wore, to the way I wore my hair to the music I listened to and why I had chose that particular type of music.

At the age of 5 we were walking home from my elementary school(I was in kindergarden at the time and the school was maybe a 10 minute walk from my house) and she had my hair cornrowed with beads on it. While we were walking I had flipped my hair back over my shoulders with my hand(everyone else in my class was doing it so I guess I must have picked it up from there). She completely flipped out, she told me that I wasnt a little while girl and only little white girls flip their hair over their shoulders like that. And that if I ever did it again she was going to cut all of my hair off.

Really was that reacion really nessicary? I was 5 and who cares how I flipped my hair, I WAS A KID. To get so hostile and threatning over a flip showed me her true colors. I knew at 5 that she was a monster. I think it was about a month later i had started being molested by an older boy who rode the bus with me. I didnt tell her a thing. I remember one time she asked me if anyone had touched me and I told her no. Why the hell would i want to tell her someone touched me in my privates? She threatned to cut off my hair because I flipped it, who knows what the hell she had in store for me if I told her this.

The molestation went on until I was in the 3rd grade. He never raped me or made me touch him but he always had his fingers inside of me and for some strange reason he would always rub them together and smell them. Every time he did that it made me sick to my stomach.

I had to take a break from writing this post just now because it brought back so many other memories that I have not delt with and that I had pushed back just to continue to life. Ummmmm....Im actually at a lost for words right now.....

I bought the book, "The Courage to Heal" by EllenBass & Laura Davis. It is a really good book and has helped me deal with being molested, i have been through some of the chapters already but its just so much information that its taking me a while but thats ok too.

I guess i never really thought that being molested would affect my life but it has. After I was molested I had became so quiet, shy and emotinal in school that alot of times I couldnt concentrate with anything in school. My grades were never the greatest even though i knew the work like the back of my hand, i was too busy working on trying to keep the memories hidden so that no one would find out. On top of my grades falling I didnt have that many friends in school. The only person who wanted to play with me was the boy who was molesting me so I tried to cling on to the other kids and would always cry when no one would play with me because I didnt want him to play with me because of what he did. My teachers would send notes home from school saying that I was crying in school again. My "motoher" being the type of "mom" that she is, never asked why i was crying or if anything happyened that made me cry. Her only response was stop being such a cry baby. You would cry if you were molested too. I was 5 and no one cared.

My dad was always working and my sister was younger. It was always them against me. I never was the person my "mother" wanted me to be and im so happy of that. I would hate to be living a life like hers. I have enough anger, sadness adn pain in my life without someone elses. I feel as though if someone is wrong, they are wrong, there are no ways of going around it or justifiying it either. I dont believe in keeping peace at all costs or protecting someone who is hurting your child. Excuses are not a subsutitue for an "apology",

so thats it for me for now. Hopefully by monday i will had a list of everything shes done wrong when it comes to my childhool and compare that with the happy moments.....

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. She who loves roses must be patient and not cry out when she is pierced by thorns.~Kenji Miyazawa~

I had spent 30 minutes crying my eyes out because of my daughter. After dealing with my own molestation and emotional neglect from my family. I realize that I cannot protect her forever. That I can’t hold her hostage for the rest of her life from the boogieman.



Then it hits me. Because of the ignorant world we live in, she could go through the same thing I went threw. That sickening feeling started to engulf my body then the tears started streaming down my face.


I do read up on child abuse and the prevention, warning signs, and all the pre-cautions. I know my daughter like a book, from head-to-toe and front-to-back. I am a firm and avid believer in I will always believe my child over everyone else, no matter what she says to me. As she’s turning 1, it just gets scarier every day.


Being a parent is the scariest thing in the world. I would give up my life, my heart, my world if it was a guarantee that it wouldn’t happen to her. While I was crying, I started having visions of what would happen if it ever happened to her. I saw myself asking my daughter,” Who touched you?” I saw myself in the dream hugging her tight, telling her everything will be ok. I had felt myself break down crying for her, trying to take her pain away. I’m so glad it was just a dream but it still hurt me to my heart.


People don’t truly understand what sexual abuse/violence [molestation & assault] does to the human spirit/soul. It takes a piece of inner most private places [that hiding spot only you are suppose to know of]. And rips it to pieces. That’s something that you just can’t get back. That piece of innocence that you had stolen cant be brought back. No one deserves that kind of life because it’s not something that you chose to happen, it’s not what you ever imagine, it’s not your fault. But living with a life sentence is an enough burden for an adult to bear, let alone a child.


What scares me is that it seems to run the family (Sexual Assault, Rape, Molestation) like its caner. Through each generation and it seems it’s still such an unspoken word. Nothings changing, nothing is being talked about. No one seems to want to acknowledge what’s right and what’s wrong.


The statistics say that 1 in 4 women will be raped/ assaulted by the time she is 18. I cry that I was that 1 in 4 for her. I plead to be that 1 in 4 for her future generations. My sorrows are so deep and worn in that I pray all the abuse that I had went through is enough to protect my own family and spread knowledge and awareness. My heart screams and beats just to be the 1 in 4 woman for her.

Mama said that some sacrifice comes without permission, that some sacrifice just comes without fair warning.That God can't always protect you from the boogieman so some baby girls will reach the pearly gates and she, she won't be tall enough to turn the handle. Mama said that some men, some men will just be too guilty to claim innocent with Christ. But what did, what did I do?

If you focus on the survivors of child sexual abuse, rape, domestic violence, sexual assault, sexual harassment…, it’s NEVER complicated.” ~ Lisa Factora-Borchers

So I’ve been procrastinating for over 2 weeks now about writing this particular entry. It’s taken me that long to contemplate about weather I should even write about this but if I really want to do this healing process and get through to other survivors then the only thing I can do is tell it all, even if I have to cry and break down in the process….

I was 5 years old when I was molested. I first met him on the bus C-7. I can still remember the bus drivers name, an older white woman who was so nice, my father cried on my first day of school. We still tease him about that to this day.

At first he was my friend, we talked and sat on the bus together. There wasn’t that many kids in PM kindergarten who rode my bus, it was many 10 of us so the bus was empty most of the time. The first time it started I had on this dark pink polka dot  skirt with a matching top and pink shoe strings tied around my braids. He put his finger in my anus the first time. I don’t remember how I felt at the time. From then it just kept continuing.

Underneath the saddle on the play ground was when he put his finger in my vagina. After that incident in the classroom we were doing sand art and I had knocked over all the sand. I remember Mrs. Miller grabbing my arm and pulling me into the “circle” yelling at me how I had spilled the sand and that she didn’t have anymore for the other kids and what was she suppose to do now. The next morning my mother was getting me dressed for school and I remember her asking me has anyone been touching you and I said no. Me and him had rode the bus together for the next two years. All I remember is him putting his fingers in my vagina and anus until I finally got away from him in the 3rd grade.

“Come on, I’m not about to let a good man go down” Franco Harris Defense attorney for Joe Paterno.

The Penn State case is what made me tell about what happened to me. I just don’t understand why so many people are still naïve to what is going on. Everyone wants to blame the children instead of the adults.

I agree 100% that Joe Paterno should have been fired. I also agree that Mike McQuery SHOULD be fired. Why did McQuery watch Jerry Sandusky molest that little boy in the shower and not stop him? If you saw him touching that child and didn’t go over to grab the child? I understand that he reported it to his superior which was what he was suppose to do but were you thinking about the child? How could you walk away from that little child and just leave him there with that monster?

According to Penn States code of conduct, teachers/coaches only have to report sexual abuse to a higher authority i.e., their supervisor. Legally they are not held responsible after they report it. Now what I’m wondering is because they have this code of conduct ,doesn’t that give the university the free-way to deny that it was every reported? doesn’t it give them the chance to protect the coach? Keeping a good name clean?

People are so caught up with Sandusky and Paterno that they forget about the victims. This grown man has come out and said,” I was showering with a 10-year old boy after hours but we were just horsing around”. Seriously people? And you still deny it? Ummmm……this sounds like Michael Jackson and Never land Ranch in his backyard. What NORMAL adult man has an amusement park in his backyard for kids when he had no kids at the time? Stop being so ignorant and in denial about what’s really happening. OPEN UP YOUR EYES.

“Children who are sexually abused typically will not fully learn the developmental tasks they would otherwise learn during the period when the abuse occurs. Sexual abuse reduces children’s feelings of self-worth, often resulting in self-degradation and difficulty in accepting themselves. The children also lose a sense of their own competence, as the assault comes from a powerful force outside herself.” ****

After I was molested I remember always feeling so ugly and insecure. I cried all the time in school because people wouldn’t play with me. My teachers would send home a note saying I was crying again and my mom telling me to stop being so sensitive, stop being a cry baby.

I’m so happy my daughter is so beautiful and not “ugly” like me. Maybe she wont have to deal with being called ugly and people pretending to be nice to you just to use you. No I know I’m not “ugly” I just don’t feel “pretty”  some days. Being called ugly and fat for so many years does hurt and still to this day makes me teary eyes. My self confidence have gotten stronger over time, I just never realized it would take this long just to acknowledge the problem.


I remember having to go to school after I was molested. Going to PM kindergarten and still having to see him every day was the worst. He was just a year older than me but still twice my size.

I had just started to remember being molested when I was in middle school, 8th grade. Having to ride the bus and sitting behind him because we had assigned seats. That day I told my 2 best friends and having this sickening feeling at the bottom of my stomach when all these feeling came back to me.
It just amazed me so much how I could remember every little detail from when I was 5. From that dark pink skirt set with black polka-dots to the pink shoestring in my cornrowed hair. Its scary how at 5 years old I kept it inside and didn’t tell anyone for over 10 years.

He lived on my street, he still lives in my neighborhood. The molestation went on for over 2 years and I have just started to try to avoid him. I think the part that pissed me off the most is that the adult in the neighborhood knew that he was molesting other children and no one did anything to stop it. He has tried to rape someone I knew and assaulted him on many occasions. 10 years after he molested me, he started molesting one of the my friends little brothers. They were about to jump him and that’s when he moved away for a year but came back..

Years after it happened apparently my mother knew who was molesting me. That has got to be the biggest slap in the face yet. You would think because shed been raped by her brother she’s be more protective of her daughters but that’s just not the case. Is it wrong to me? Personally…..yes.
But I’ve learned to accept that I cant change how other people react to certain situations, I can only control me.

I believe the cycle of abuse begins and ends with the parents. What you say to your children will carry on into the next generation until someone stops it. Having an ignorant “back in my day this never happened” mentality helps no one. We all know about your “Uncle Russell” in the family which no one talks about but keeps inviting around all the kids and steadily ignoring the cries of your children. The rumors going around the family that you purposely try to keep a secrete.

So now at 25 a mother of a 10 month old girl I find myself scared out of my mind. So terrified that some monster will hurt her the way I was hurt. However I am doing everything possible to be as education as much as I can. When my daughter is old enough to understand I will teach her also.

Every time I look into her eyes I see such innocence that it breaks my heart. Knowing that I can’t possible protect her from everything in the world but I can do whatever it talks to keep that innocent look in her eyes until she chooses to give it away.

****Recovering from Rape by Lind E. LedRay, R.N., P.H.D