when i was 11, i learned to survive being “touched” by my cousin, who would later say he didn’t rmember doing so.
when i was 12, i told the first person i was touched. i didn’t yet know the word for it. she went and told everybody that i had made out with my cousin.
when i was 15, i got groped by a carpenter, and just moved on like nothing happened.
when i was 19, i was assaulted by my first boyfriend.
the same year, i was raped by a classmate. in response, my boyfriend told me it was my fault and i was unpure. many of my friends refused to believe it happened and he got away by saying that “she didn’t say no loud enough”. i was soon hospitalized in a mental ward.
three weeks ago i tried to kill myself after i was groped by an auto driver.
i was told it gets better. i never moved on.
now i am 21. and i am here. and to everyone who has become a part of the #metoo movement, I love you. to those who do not wish to speak out, I love you.