There are too many of us.
We are ill-equipped to deal with the sexual abuse of our children. We don't want to face it. We turn away and hope it never happens in our homes, to our own babies. And in doing that we sometimes send a message to those babies that should it ever happen, we will not know how to handle it. Sometimes our babies are too scared, ashamed, confused, to say anything. And these babies carry this fear and shame for a lifetime.
There are far too many of us.
My mum's steward with his porn and his fingers. The man in charge of caring for the rabbits in school. The club owner down the road in Ikeja.
And that's just me.
There are so many of us. Yet our collective silence is deafening. We need to speak up, somehow, for our babies' sakes. And we need to learn to believe our babies, whether or not we were believed. Otherwise this madness will never stop.
"Little girl - little child
Little child is broken open,
Unripe,
By sick, sickening hands
Drawing crop circles on the
Foreshadowing of breasts,
In the unplanted fields of secret hairs -
Harvesting a crop not theirs
Never theirs,
Plundering the bounty
That is innocent life.
A foul scythe,
Shearing the seeds off our laughter.
A ploughing in the dark of night
A marking of the face
With tears.
Be quiet.
This is a gift.
Take this painful thing;
It is love.
Do you not yet know how to spell?
Say it like you're told;
S-h-a-m-e
That's how you spell love.
Perfect score for learning so quick,
Special child.
Have a gold star
Seared into your nightmares.
Nobody loves you better.
No one will kill you quicker.
I need you.
Make daddy feel good.
Let uncle make you feel good.
Aunty has a present for you
For later
Bath time
Bed time
Play time
A life time
Of spelling love wrong.
Help us
Believe us
Protect us
Teach us
L-o-v-e.
PS: Mikki Kendall (@karnythia) has some illuminating thoughts on paedophilia and how it works to silence victims.
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