Jk

I still have trouble sleeping in a new place. I hear every sound and wake to every light. I have to double lock the door. I am afraid to take anything to help me sleep because as a child, whenever I was sleeping soundly, I would wake to being sexually assaulted in my own bed. I would fight him off when I could get myself awake but you know how hard little children sleep. Our bedroom was just feet from my parents and my mother would wake up to every sound EXCEPT the sound of my sibling assaulting me and my fighting him off. This older brother beat, threatened, manipulated, stole food from us and assaulted me and my younger siblings. We all told our parents. I told neighbors, pastors, grandparents, teachers and friends. Nothing was done. We were not protected or believed. I am told that I must forgive and forget by my parents and my brother. I have tried. I have prayed, I have done the work but my brother will not ever say he is sorry or that he did anything wrong. My parents still stand by their enabling. He still stares at parts of my body when I see him….I feel invaded again.
As an adult, I found out that his male friendship group all molested their younger sisters. Some of them were my friends. I wonder how many girls suffered because my parents would not stop him. “Boys will be boys.” they would say. They would accuse ME of being dirty minded or crazy. They were worried if they disciplined him that it would ruin his manhood. What about me?!!

I was told as an adult that my case was too old to take my brother to court but then he had children. Did he molest and threaten them? I hope they were okay. I tried to secretly check on them often. Now they are adults and I hope they are okay. I did try to call the police but they were not willing to do anything for such an old case. He volunteered in a church with children but I couldn’t find out which one. I tried calling churches in that area and I couldn’t find a way to stop him.
I attended a workshop where we were to teach children not to hit. I wish someone would have told me it was okay to hit. I was taught over and over that good girls don’t hit. I stabbed my brother with a fork one time because he stole my food and I was very hungry. My entire family was right there and did nothing. When I stabbed him with the fork, I was beaten severely. It was worth it. He was not punished because “he was just hungry.”

We went to church and they sang the song “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost”. My brother smiled in a malicious way, leaned towards me and said “See, you have to do what I say.” Now this song has become the song of bullies and pediphiles in my mind forever.

What I did not know until now is that when I finally was big enough to fight him off, he just moved on to my little sister. She kept the secret. She kept it so long that she has cancer in her throat and is dying. My mother complains that my sister was terrible to her because she cried out once when she was being raped and it kept her awake. She was mad at my sister.

A librarian quietly helped me find books I needed to help me. I don’t even know her name. Books that were kept behind the librarian’s desk on feminism, psychology and dysfunctional family. A respectful, gentle intelligent boy fell in love with me and gently escorted me far from this place. He married me and stands beside me everyday. My grandmothers felt there was nothing they could do….but they did more than they know. They listened. They kept me near them whenever possible. They let me stay with them for weeks on end. They made sure I had enough to eat and held me close. A first grade school teacher who brushed the dirty hair from my face and wiped my eyes and gave me that extra attention I needed. I was fortunate enough to get therapy, education, and a safe warm relationship and home to live in.
A few people can make a huge difference.

Be there for someone please. My life was saved by those people. Now I hope to be there for so many more. Please, you don’t know when your kind action will make all the difference. You don’t always know what another person is going through.