Paedophilia and child assault is not something external to our culture; I should know
WARNING: This is very graphic and contains some of the harder elements of my childhood. Sexual abuse, child abuse and racism all feature in this article.
I can remember the first time I was touched.
I can remember the plastic hairband I was wearing and the way my left stocking was too tight on my calf. I was twelve years old, Year 7. My blazer is burgundy and my skirt is grey, I have two cats and there are clouds over head when you touch me on the high street at four in the afternoon. You are old, a grown up. You have glasses and dark hair and you wear an anorak when you talk to my grandmother who is waiting with me at the bus stop. I complain that I’m cold and how old my school is when you reach inside my blazer and grab both my breasts and say
You need heating in there love
You look embarassed but my grandmother is silent. Nobody does anything, nobody does anything, nobody does anything and I will ask myself again and again and again why nobody did anything, even when I am strong and tall and a grown up, like you, and no one will ever, ever make me feel like that again.
You were the first man to touch me. Not the boy I fell in love with at fourteen, not the first boy to kiss me, you, a man I did not choose and did not want, you took that from me, you stole it, and I will be forced to remember that no matter who beds me or loves me.
You were white. Not an evil wicked foreign man, a white man and it was a white community that watched you do that to me and a white community that did nothing. Islam did not make you abuse me, Pakistani culture did not make you abuse me, uncontrolled immigration did not make you abuse me, your whiteness did not make you abuse me
You chose that and you did it and I hope you lie awake every night with shame and disgust at yourself.
You must be sixty now, I’m an adult, I’m 21. I see your generation foam with anger at the outsider shadows that lurk in racist stereotypes of preying on little girls. But you did this. The irony makes me burn.
Your generation, fetishing my uniform and masturbating over women dressed as children, your culture, whistling and swarming after me in the street, your traditions, boys will be boys, men will be men and god forbid you ever look in the mirror and see the monster you are instead of the monster you paint on The Other.
Don’t you dare, don’t you dare steal the truth of what happened to me for your hate.
Hate child abuse?
Hate child abuse and end what happened to me, whatever race or religion commits it.
I will not let you create pain and hate from my wounds.