Radiation can’t fix my cancer I get blamed for my cancer I’m ashamed of my caner And I wish my cancer would Hurry up and kill my mind Since my body had already Been destroyed

Stolen

I was in school with him from
Day one until graduation
He was there even when his presence
Wasn’t known.

Because they hurt me, he touched
Me, they forced me and it felt
Like my spirit was stolen from
My body.

So many times I wished there was
Someone out there like me.

Because it kills me to pour
My soul out on a piece of paper.
It silences me to try to tell a
Story that most people will ignored
But that one person will speak up
And not voice anything

©Golden Rays

Virgin Mary

I cried tears of blood last night
And no one cared why

I screamed at the top of my
Lungs last night and no one
Heard my cries.

I sat alone thinking why was i
So stupid. I opened up and was
Gutted like a fish.

I’m still holding on, still fighting
For her, for me, for you.

And no one still knows why….

©Golden Rays

And it isn't just about you and the way your body responded either. It may also have been one of the repertoires of dirty tricks rapists use to get their victims to feel responsible. Diana Russell writes that "Some rapists think they're lovers" and tells us:(These rapists) think that if a woman is stimulated in 'just the right way' she will enjoy it. The conquest may seem more important if the rapist believes he has turned the woman on physically, particularly if it is against her will. Getting the victim to respond physically may also alleviate the rapist's guilt feelings.

I feel so disgusting right now. I don’t really know what’s going on with me or even how it happened but I feel like I’m having a minor setback. Through everything I’ve been through the past 2 weeks I’ve made such good progress with deal with panic attacks and flash backs and the anxiety.

When Banky raped me we were kissing and I let him perform oral sex on me which was so disgusting. He had finished smoking before he did it and to this day I’m not too sure what he was smoking but when he performed oral on me it burned really bad. It was painful even when I had to have the rape kit performed. So to this day oral sex is a really sensitive subject for me but  I am comfortable with it as long as I’m calm and relaxed.

About an hour later my anxiety goes up and I feel like I’m losing control over my emotions. I wanted to crawl in a hole and just cry my eyes out. The first thing I felt was Justin’s fingers inside me, after I dealt with that feeling the next thing I felt was Banky performing oral sex and then Frank holding me down and raping me. I dealt with the flashbacks and didn’t freak out but it felt like it just kept going around in a circle and wouldn’t stop.

Like my body felt like it was being violated over and over again and I can feel them touching and grabbing and I smelt every sent and my body just feels so worn out. I couldn’t even lay down in my own bed by my husband and feel comfortable. I felt like my body was betraying me and I couldn’t control it. My vagina and anal area is still throbbing and I just feel so disgusting and dirty and tainted. I know that I not but that’s how I’m feeling. I just feel so uncomfortable in my own skin, I just want to peel it off my body and find a new skin, something that’s not so dirty.

A hot bath would feel wonderful but I just feel so nauseous and so out of control. I just want to be able to relax. I feel disgusting because while I was being raped I was wet, I didn’t have any control over it and I know that it’s nothing that I did but it just feels so bad……..

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

“I think the black family itself is just so different from the white family. When a black woman is rape, it kind of weakens her as the female part in that family”***

“I think you learn it from watching your mother. Not being taught, just watching. I know my mom, when she would so something and injure herself, she’d say, “Damn.” Then she’d wrap something around it and go back to what she was doing. She’d say, ”Blood coming through there, but got to keep going.”***

“Black women are quick to get up. They may not be ready to stand on two feet, but they do it. You know? They say, “Okay. I need to put this back together. Let me get up.” Say she had this beautiful porcelain vase and say that represents her life and it gets cracked by something like… like a rape. Boom--it splatters everywhere. A black woman would do something like--she would take something like rope and put those pieces back together. It may not be as pretty as the white woman’s vase--taking all that time to put crazy glue on every spot and put it all together real nice and pretty. It may not be pretty but it works just the same. That’s the way we go about putting our lives together. May end up having some kind of little drawback or maybe we have to deal with things like anger and controlling our temper, but we do it. It may not be beautiful, but it gets fixed fast. And it works.”***

Now what my question is does it work? Does it really work to quick fix a problem that big and expect it to work the rest of your life? What is so wrong with taking our time and trying to put the pieces back together again? So what if it takes a long time to individually put each tiny piece back? Wouldn’t that route work out better for us in the long run?

A lot of us take that route of temporarily trying to fix a problem and in the end it always comes back up and bites us in the ass.That vase eventually gets shattered again, even if its by something minor and minuscule.
Those thousands of pieces that were tied together by that rope shatter again.

How many times are we going to wrap a cloth around a broken bone and expect it to heal? Ignoring the pain only allows more time to pass while the anger manifests in your soul. Then you start taking it out on other people. Trying to do your daily, “normal duties” with that mask on your face pretending that nothing is wrong.

Just because we get raped, it does not make us weaker as women, as black women. Because we end up in violent relationships, it does not make us weaker as black women. What another person does to your body is their blame to carry around, not yours. IF you choose to seek help, you are NOT weak. IF you choose not to seek help, you are NOT weak.

Often times we rely on family for advise and how we should handle certain situations. Family IS NOT ALWAYS RIGHT. Just because they are related to you does not make their advice remotely right or even in your best interest. I have experienced this in a negative way. My family chooses to ignore my molestation, my rape, my feelings. They chose to try to keep it in the family, that infamous don’t air dirty laundry tactic that black families are famous for. Hell my father told me not to tell anyone about what happened. When I was raped and he had to come home from work the only thing he kept saying was what am I going to tell my job. Like he was ashamed because I was raped.

Now I find that very hilarious.

I know that families “try to keep your best interest at heart” it does not mean they are going about it the right way. It was always drilled into your head that family should be number one in your life and no one should come before them. THAT’S BULLSHIT to me.

My family only made my healing a more difficult process. Once I finally saw the truth and how they really were that’s when I started to change myself and didn’t care if they liked who I was becoming.
  My families ignorance is their own burden to carry not mine, I cant change anyone else but me. I choose not to be close to them because of that ignorance that was hurting me, that’s my own choice.

I’m not obligated to be involved with them just because we are blood and I think that’s wrong with black families now. When someone is hurting you stay away from them. SOME black families have this no matter how much family is hurting you or what they do to you still be involved with them. No, I don’t believe in that idea. If the victim doesn’t want to be around the person who has hurt them then they shouldn’t be criticized for protecting themselves.

We just need to open our minds and hearts and actually look and understand reality. Accept that black women get raped and its not their fault. Accept that black children get molested by family members and friends and its not their fault. Accept that some black men do rape black women and black men and its NOT the victims fault.

Stop being so ignorant and blaming the victims because you want to protect your family.

A Little Girls White Dress

My white dress has been
Covered in blood.
My beautiful white dress has been
Beaten so much
The back is ripped and its
Seam is torn.
My sparkly white dress is
Smudged whit unearthly prints
And stains that can not be
Removed.
My innocent white dress was ripped
Apart into pieces and
Carelessly put back together again.

I’ve tried to burn it, drown it
Pour alcohol on it to set on fire
And it still finds its way to the
Front of my closet
Dirty, fire stains, muddy, smeared with
Blood reeking
Of Jack Daniels, holding on by
A thread.

Sitting in front of what use to be
My white dress, I scream, I bellow
And finally I cry.

Realizing the blood, the torn seam
Smudges and pieces were only visible
To me.

The damage I had done to my own
White dress can be fix,
Even if I can get the blood out.
©Golden Rays

***Excerpt from Jacqueline a survivors of rape, the above quoted text was taken from the book “surviving the Silence Black Women’s Stories of Rape” by Charlotte Pierce-Baker