Poetry, Quotes, and Ramblings

When You Grew Older

Warning: Mentions of rape (not explicit) and language. Proceed at your own risk.

when you were seven, you liked a little boy with curly hair and a shining smile. you snuck glances at him out of the corner of your eye, like you were looking at the sun. he caught your glance, once, and strode over to you, already brimming with confidence. he smiled, but instead of introducing himself, he reached out, his arm lightening-fast, and pulled your hair. your beautiful, long hair that you were so proud of had a boy's grubby hands on it. you promptly burst into tears.

when you got home, you told your mother about the rude little boy, tears still in your eyes. your sweet, loving mother, instead of comforting you, laughed. she laughed and told you, "he's only kidding. if boys pull your hair or tease you, he obviously likes you." this lesson would stay with you for the rest of your life.

when you were thirteen, you had your first kiss, even though it was rough and awkward. the boy gripped your wrists and tugged your hair as he kissed you. you tried to push him away and said no, but he laughed. you weren't kidding. you felt disgusting, but your mother's words echoed in your head: "he's only kidding. if boys pull your hair or tease you, he obviously likes you." And you wanted to be liked.

when you were fifteen, you lost your virginity. it was at a party where everyone was drunk and there were no chaperones. the boy was oblivious to your whimpers—"i don't like this"—and all he said was "c'mon, it'll be fun, relax". he enjoyed himself, eyes roving up and down your body like it was his. but didn't he realize that no, no matter how soft or polite it was, still meant no?

when you were eighteen, your father and uncle called you a grown woman. later that night, they snuck into your room. this time, your no was not soft or quiet, but your mouth was covered and you screamed and screamed and screamed, but no one came.

when you were twenty-one, you had a boyfriend, and you thought you loved him and you thought he was the best thing that ever happened to you. however, he didn't think the same, as he used you, then threw you away, like a tissue. you forgot how to say no and remembered how to say yes.

when you were thirty-five, you watched on the TV as many women came forward and accused a man—he was powerful and rich and (almost) invincible—and you saw how he was ripped to shreds. you saw how no meant no, how consent was important, how you did not deserve to be treated like garbage, how respect was needed, and you cried. you cried and you cried, and you began to heal. you began to heal because you understood you were important and not a toy for anybody else.