lunch with the rapist

So I’m at the library and you know I’m supposed to be studying industriously but I was up for q whole 12 hours yesterday marveling at the wonders of what a HD camera and fnal cut pro can do for you but that’s another topic altogether, if I had any ANY ANY balls whatsoever I would do my masters in fine art and fucking theory, that would be awesome but I’m thinking only of practicality…but I’ll think of specializing in something I love STILL.

Anyways I’m having lunch with the mtf Rapist..introducing the rapist.

Anyways I met this dude, hes just under thirty and I’m standing outside waiting for my friend he runs out and offers me a ride, I’m like no my friend is on her way..so he asks me the usual are you a student? Work etc to scare him off, I’m like yes, University student with a fondness for theory, hes like oh yeah what theory? I’m like huh? There are many..right now neolib/post col are my fav but my actual fav theory is the theory of false positivity and he laughs, knows what it is and can have a fucking convo about theory?!?

I’m floored, so hes not EXACTLY my type but I can feel myself getting wet already..i want his number. We go out for drinks about a week later, talk briefly inbetwn, till we meet and the fuckery begins… he ONLY wants to talk about sex, not sexuality which might have been stimulating but sex, fucking what position and shit? I’m like what do I look to this mtf? WHATTTT/ as in if this was the kind of convo/interaction I was looking for I could get from people more like my taste, as in fucking nasty shit..i tell him this and he steps it up a notch, to groping and wants to go to a hotel..…

I was already drunk and he actually was trying to take advantage which made me sad and was hilarious to me at the time..i’m like thank you for showing your hand, deep down you have no fucking respect, no fucking principles and you are NOT a bonafide Slut/ sex addict, if he was we could roll, but hes just an ass. Somehow I allow the mtf to come upstairs with me cos hes claiming drunk…when all hes had is a glass of wine, looking back and refuses to sleep on the couch, tries to fucking fuck me.

I said NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

And it wasn’t until I was threatening to kick his fucking ass and was hitting him, that it stopped and I basically overpowered him (another advantage of being a big fat woman if to say i be lekpa, i no sure as the thing for go down, no seriously twice now i’ve used my bulk to push some idiot off me – yes i know say me too i be dopemu for inviting such people into my home, my life, to partake of the wondrousity that is me..i know  ), it took me a moment cos for the first time in my life I was fucking triggered in the moment, I had a flash of someone else trying to rape me and the feeling of HELPLESSNESS and resignation was fucking overwhelming overwhelming almost took over my whole body but I had to hold on just to stay grounded and centred cos he was not safe.

My beef is why? I know it is about about power but why why? Would you want to take something that is supposed to be shared by force, how can you think that buying someone a $30 plate and drinks for like $20 value is equal to her pussy? I’m like even if I was a whore, I’m not a fucking cheap whore, if you’re going to place a price on my pussy it better be more like dinner at the finest most gourmet restaurant, $300 bottle of wines, private fucking jet and in paris…no lie

Otherwise, respect your fucking self and realize that this is about mutual respect and HOPE, here I was thinking that fucking bitches, that I had met one intellectual who was not a misogynistic asswipe instead he is the worst kind of misogynist, the kind that can pretend, has language and theory can form fucking liberal all the while using, adopting a fucking mask of masculine emasculation only to claim power. That fucking shit if scary.

As for stating the fucking obvious, i dont care if i’m drunk, high off my fucking ass and naked and gyrating on your fucking body, if i say no, FUCKING NO MEANS NO….and no just because i invited you into my home, does not mean i am attracted to you r ass and am dying to fuck and if you think its a game, that once you get up to a womans home, get into her bed then you can pressure your way into fucking then that is fucking pathetic. I am not, I REPEAT , i do not regret, am ashamed by of fear my sexuality..if i want to fuck you, i’ve decided from almost the first time i see you if ur fuckable and if i fucking like and your bitch ass will know not from fucking feminine wiles but from my overt advances or i might just tell you that i’m wet and i want to fuck you..long before you EVEN saw it coming.

Another thing its always the mtf biatches who are all about hyper, hesistant feminine sexuality that have attempted rape or that bullshit i’m touching you to get you turned on and then you’ll fuck me even if u dont want to cos ur a good girl, sometimes thats hot ONLY in role play mtf otherwise thats fuicking called COERCION if i say no it fucking means NO, it doesnt fucking mean try harder..for fucks sakes!

ANOTHER thing, i’m like talking to my friends the ones that date african men, jamo man no go fit do that kind thing..for my experience so far no the african men in particular..its been normalized as if say thats part of the fucking game, na so dem take dey chase woman, FUCK THAT!, no biatch, i dont expect you to insult, abuse and disrespect me in my own house, keep it in your pants and your hands to yourself untill i tell you otherwise and i pity the next mtf that will try that shit cos i’m calling the fucking cops..one hand. ITS NOT FUCKING OK

I’m like give me straight up, patriach, the kind that will tell you woman stay in the kitchen have my kids and don’t leave the house, except you’re wrapped around me, that is clear that some blubbering house slave, that loves to play the fool, in this case position women as fucking bitches and vahina gentata’s only so that they can be just as fucking patriachial and myso gynistic as the other guy if not MORE..because no one is calling them on their shit and they are too fucking busy fronting like they’re down with womens lib.

So I’m having lunch with the fucking rapist, I could tie him up, bind his arms and leg painfully to a tree and beat his fucking ass black and blue till he confessed that he will never NEVER EVER attempt to fucking rape another woman or even touch another woman without her EXPRESS consent I will.

But in this case, I will have to settle for lunch, and an long tirade where I let my little girl talk to him, where this woman gets to tell him exactly what he did, exactly what he tried to do, that I see him and that I NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER want anything to do with his fucking broke ass anyways and that hes not even on my fucking level, not intellectually, not in terms of looks, energy, NOTHING. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.

And hopefully that will be the end of this rapist chapter unless he wants to

· Credit card with at least $3000 for my shopping

· Flat screen HD TV, I’m talking 42 inch

· Jewels, gold/silver/jade – gemstones spree

· Furniture shopping for my apartment

· Ticket to naija plus expenses and ALL the arrangements

Unless he’s interested in/willing to treat me like the FUCKING PRINCESS that I am without so much as a fucking kiss, so that maybe, maybe I can see his use..otherwise get fucking lost. I’m counting on the fact that he is liar and is in fact not interested in dropping a dime – even though he claims that all he wants to do is spoil me and I’m like yeah you mean fucking rape. I don’t know about his fucking definition of spoil but its definitely NOT NOT NOT fucking fish and chips at the fucking pub..imagine?

its called being assertive not selfish: notes on living with truama + relationships…

1: identified pattern: saying I don’t want to do something and doing it anyways..communicates weakness and allows people to take advantage, communicates that they can get it from me anyways, if I don’t care enough about how I feel not to do it why should they? I’ve got to learn to totally put myself first not them and its called being assertive not selfish

Yesteday’s counseling session was good for me. I got my ass kicked by my counselor and it felt good that and the fact that I took advil followed by four shots will make anyone feel good I imagine J (yes I’m fully ware of my escapism) Anyways, we talked about what it means that I have a pattern of abusive relationships and follow them one after the other, that I end up somehow communicating that it is ok for me not to get my needs met and therefore permit the abuse to happen. where and how I learnt this behaviour is written all over my childhood. As a woman living with a disability I was raised to put EVERYONE and everything else before myself, I was to ALWAYS come last if I was to be a good woman, if people were going to forget that I had a disability and perhaps look kindly at me and let me in the rant and all of my childhood abusers forced me to put their needs first. Even when I got raped I’ll never forget my mother telling me that I need to basically NEVer tell anyone if I was going to succeed in life and by that she really meant get married which I did and fucked up (by her standards anyways) so 1 for me, 1 for mom.

As an aside I really like jack..emotionally he actually takes care of me, I don’t feel like I have to struggle and fight for my needs to be met sexually and emotionally just financially na im be the prob. In fact he encourages to state my needs and tries to anticipate and meet them. With all my other lovers I feel like it’s a constant battle where people just want to take from you and will take as much as they can whether you are willing or unwilling. This makes me so fucking sad and angry at the same time because then it means they are being dishonest and don’t really give a rat’s ass…they have no real integrity. It also means that they are lieing if they say they care for m or at least what caring is to them is not what it is to me.

I was thinking about all of this because of red and my ex husband and his complete disregard for me and my needs, even the sexual/basest of needs. It looks like the same pattern is about to rear its ugly head in relation to red, I’m starting to get that feeling that I’m not good enough.unworthy and its such an alarm in my head: but it is immediately followed by double talk on my part, self doubt and hyper critical ness..(I’m like, no I know she is not him but we did have a relationship that was fucked in its own way but that I tried really hard to save from descending into the very abyss of hell, and it is the same me that she is dealing with post ex husband…) in reality I’m not used to putting myself in the centre of my own relationships with people and when I do then I feel totally and completely ill at ease..literally.

Red says that she wants to have intimacy cuddle, kisses, touches, caresses, no fucking, I told her from the beginning and have consistently let her know that I want to be more than friends but I can live with being friends..i want her in my life. I’m not sure about all that intimacy that goes no where. But she goes back and forth and in that process according to my counselor I’ve communicated to her by cuddling with her anyways and leaving the door so wide open (by making it abundantly clear that I want a relationship with her no matter the cost, I’ve pretty much said this to her- actual words) that I’ll do it anyways even though that’s not what I want making it harder for me to get me needs met when she can get all of her needs met. And at the same time get to FREAK out that we are having a not quite lovership type of relationship. I’m not freaked out at all, I’m like that’s the end game…I don’t know what her end game is. All I want is to have her (and she is presently a stand in for most of the relationships, future and presnt )in my life under the best and most long term conditions.

So it’s looking like it will be hard, hard to set up boundaries, hard to actually refuse to do the things that I say and know that I do not want to do, I feel fearful, that if I do not do these things or act the way that people want me to act then I’ll lose them. Isn’t that the way life is? I mean that’s basically what I learnt from the collective, that’s what I’ve learnt from most people in my life but LORD knows I’m working hard and trying to get to a place where I can be who I am and fully welcome and invite people into my life trusting that they will appreciate me for who I am, that regardless of what they do or are willing/unwilling to do I will have my boundaries solid and firm.

That’s what my fear, really is about that if I don’t do what people want or say then I wont have them in my life, it makes it hard for me to even acknowledge my needs/ wants and by the time that I do its too late. I wish I could have helped out EVEN more and did this with my ex-husband that’s someone else that I did love so much that now I’m not even willing to let him hurt me anymore, I want to protect some of the good times that we had, the warm fuzzy moments that get eroded by every nasty thing that he does, the same with red, I’m fighting to hold on to the moments where I feel I actually experienced what it means to be/ feel loved and to share that with someone. That’s all love really is, isn’t it?

dili and chi (recount..contd )

I am not sure when this happened so i’m not sure about the age but i think i’m about 5-6-7 years old.

My time markers are: this was the year that my grandmother moved to agboju market and we started spending a lot of time there. I especially spent a lo of time there refusing to go home and even going to school from there. There were some perks…my parents were constantly fighting or should i say my father was busy beating my mom so she too was sometimes at grandma’s “resting” and its not like i spent a lot of down time with her, and her shop was close ny on ojo road so under the prext of wanting to learn how to sew sometimes the driver would drop me there….that came in my early teens as more frequent behaviour before they closed/sold the shop.

Anyways in my bid to avoid okafor i started to spend a lot of time there, at my grandma’s i was allowed to HELP out in the kitchen, go to the market, fetch water..all these things distracted me they were a welcome escape. i would spend days in her t – shirts which she called blouses and she would bathe me at night and cover me with talc powder and dusting power. I was so happy there, i started to tell my mom that i wanted to move to agboju….

Then mama started going to the market and running errands and left me more and more with okwi. Okwi and i were co conspirators, he wasn’t much older than me and he’d encourage me to ask mama for milk, sugar, money for suya anything most things that she wouldn’t on if it was just him and her. He was her brothers son and his sister would be coming soon from the village. We played with makeup, he dressed me up and would wear makeup, my aunts heels and we would both me “madams” one day he got caught and they beat the living daylights out of him. I was not sympathetic by then i started to feel sike at the memory of him.

Anyways one day he invites me to his room, i never go into his room he shared the same room with my aunties, that room was huge with two queen beds in it and they were away at the university so he had thier wardrobe at his full disposal. Untill then i stayed in mama’s room and did not venture near that room cos my aunts had warned me to stay away.

So i went with him, he said he had storybooks for me to read and i stayed there and read them and then he showed me papa ajasco and hints magazine and read them to me, he kissed me and touched me on my nipples, sucked them and asked me to play with his penis..well he put my hand on it. it was soft, softer than okafors and browner and smaller. I started to cry, he begged me to stop crying.

This memory is so fucking fuzzy that i hate to remember. Anyway one day he was in my uncles room right by the parlour, i think i was sleeping or something. I noticed how quiet it was..that weekend my brother and sisters were there with us…cos one of our uncles came back from abroad. I heard voiced from his room i thought there were hiding eating all the candy, biscuit that my uncle brought back and did not want to give me any so i started banging and knocking on the door.

Okwi came out of the room with nothing on he was covered in powder and my sister/brother were in the room with chioma they were all naked, lying under the sheets and giggling? I was mortified. I knew what was happening so i asked them to get out of the room immediately, my brother, my sister. They said that they were only playing but i beat them, slapped them hard and told them that if i EVER found them playing that kind of play they would be sorry.

***more significantly, i have a displaced memory of feeling, sucking and tasting along with the overwhelming scent of talc powder okwi’s small penis**** i can’t seem to place it.

Okwudili was easy to forgive, i think one day he asked me for forgiveness….after that day i never talked to him, hung out or anything. I avoided him like the plague…i was cleaning my fathers bathroom when he came upstairs to say hello he was in secondary school by this time. So was i but he was a senior and very tall and handsome. His voice got shaky and tears welled in his eyes and he said he was sorry. I didn’t ask for what, i didn’t ask why. I was happy that he’d apologized, i had respect for him, though the disgust didn’t really go anywhere and that was it.

We lived around each other but were never close again.

****it is important to note that my brother went on to continue to “play” i suspect with my sister, myself with my sister, my cousins and brothers at diffrent points in my life. If not for anyone else’s sake i MUST remain anonymous. This stuff, thee stuff that i cannot blame on anyone, the things that i remember doing like a zombie indeed, the things that i felt compelled to do when okwi, okafor and everyone else is what haunts me because up untill i became a teenager…i perpetuated the cycle. Even as i wished that they would stopped what they did to me i did not think/it did not occur to me that what i was doing was WRONG, would create hurt, would do the same to them

Psychology has explained away this phenomenom with relativity, the attempt to normalize ones psyche, life and what one has lived through by passing on the pain. The theory of domination/power/ is simply a way of achieving balance by stealing power from another person and therefore becoming the dominator. I dont know how to forgive my teenage self or my young self for the things that i continued to do to other people, to other children even as i had managed to stop the abuse in my life.

Worse i have found little or no resources for talking about this, people have threatened me, lost all respect for me, attempted to call me a monster, attempted to blackmail me for things that they themselves had done, once they have found this out about me but the reality is that this is me. If i am to fry for it one day then i shall fry. I am doing all this now, saying all this now because i have to find a way to free myself. I am in “bondage.”  I remain bound by the pacts of secrecy that existed/exists among all of us. I want to live my life, i need to give myself permission to live and mean it.

AND it must stop. IT MUST STOP. IT MUST STOP. this bullshit that has been going on in my family, that has touched us, someone must talk about it, i will not live in fear that one day i will touch my kids or that i will be blind while someone else does or that someone else will because i am too busy hiding anything to do with sex from my children, it must stop. Starting with me.

I think that is why the whole way, current and very popular method of conceptualizinf “healing” and survivors must be reconceptualized…because the present explanation of coping/learnt behaviors does not address the fear that i am trying desperately to debunk: that since i was touched, licked, kissed and tasted and consumed by the tainting damaging hand of EVIL, torture and abuse then i must have changed become deformed, ugly and equally monstrous..that i learnt this is no consolation AT ALL because i am now and will forever remain condemned as monstrous…+disability and theoretically the vision/story is not much of a leap..doesnt take people long to make the connection, this i can see in my life. It has manifested itself before me…like a monstrous shadow that i cannot hide/run away bury my head in the sand as much as i wish…it is thier preconcieved notions of me, they give it breath, it is created before my very eyes and it takes on a life of its own….

What to do with the monster/ghost: either we vanquish it for all eternity or we simply live with it…normalizing it, acknowledging as she is transformed and we are transformed recognizing shared connections/similarities till we cant help but start to see ourselves as ugly, familiar, monstrous as the monster/ghost….not sure that made any sense..not that anyone is reading REALLY!

Oka…(recount)

Okafor came to our house in lagos at the time from the village..i remember hearing everyone describing him as a village boy who was ugly. He shared a room with one of my uncles, all the uncles shared one room, it smelt like them, the room was lit with a yellow bulb and was full of boxes of paper. Looking back it smelt mostly like aftershave and old paper.

He used to bathe us, well me and my brothers and sisters.  When he was bathing me his hands always lingered around me nipples and too long in my vagina, i complained once and he told me that i was dirty i needed to be clean down there and thats what my mother told him to do.  That is how it all started. Till today i wonder if he touched or did anything to any other of my siblings. We had come to agreement much later on when i was eight that he would use only me and that he would in turn get full cooperative access to me.

When i was three (i calculated how old i was from the year we were still in our first family house before we moved to our present family house in lagos) I was three.

I used to dance to ABBA really loud while he cleaned for some reason that day i was home alone with him. He had finished cleaning for the afternoon and watched me danced to dancing queen. I flounced around the room imitating my mother, my aunties and then i noticed that he was watching me closely. I moved to him and started to dance for him, I remember twisting and rubbing myself on the wall and looking at  him to make sure i had his attention and he was staring.

later that afternoon Okafor took me into his room, it was dark, he was sweating profusely, there was no light and he was naked. he asked me to come to the bed he kissed me for a long time..i didn’t feel anything…cannot recall the image i just know that i kissed him, i remember his lips..i remember thinking that they were so big and so black compared to mine. he smelt of saliva and sweat…i sat on top of him  lay naked beneath me and he was rocking, moving, my head was stuck in his armpit and my whole lower body was covered in white stuff…i fell asleep.

I never went to his room again. I avoided him, no more dancing to abba, no more dancing, no more skirts/dresses if i could afford it. When we moved into the new house it was harder to avoid him, by them he was the master houseboy and we had other househelps that deffered to him, so he would insist on bathing me, insist on making my lunch, insist on lifting me up when i came back from school so that in front of everyone he would stick his fingers into my vagina and then put me down but by then i was often in tears. Okafor was beloved by my parents, they said he was honest, no girls around him, worked in the shop, didn’t steal and he was learning the trade very well.

Whenever he was bathing me he would stick his soapy fingers into my vagina. I told my aunt and my mother once that he had put his finger into my vagina with soap and that is why it was paining me. My aunt called me aside and begged me to be sure of what i was saying because they were going to beat okafor and send him away. (now i look back with a clear conviction that she knew but instead sympathized with him or was the power drug denial and her hope that it was not true that led her to encourage me to sympathize first and foremost with him and everyone else but myself ) So i never mentioned it again. At other times he would force me to play hide and seek by following me around and i would run and hide, trying to escape and he would corner me behid the curtains, under the dining table, behind the couch and play with my vagina. Sometimes i got wet, i felt aroused…i didnt understand. He would smile and tell me to stop pretending that i liked what he was doing. Over the yearsi simply gave in, would let me do as he pleased and when he took me to his room in the boysquarters, whipped out his penis, I did. all i remember was his hair, the coarse hair, the smell of his sweat and com. He always smelt like onions.

When i was 9yrs old i travelled to london england for christmas and there as another girl touched me and her brother confronted me and asked me if she had touched me and told me that she had touched/touches others i realized that it was all wrong. He gaved me words to think about it all. I started to hate myself, hate the fact that sometimes his mouth on my nipples felt good, that he gave me extra eggs in the morning or whatever i wanted, I hated him. When i got back from england he chased me down the house and i fought back, i threw a can of baked beans at him and he stuck his fingers into me by force, i bit him hard..he enjoyed it. I withdrew i wondered why nobody noticed. I still do.

Then one day i took the kitchen knife that used to cut green sometimes and i told him that i would tell my mom and dad and that i would cut him the next time he tries it, i cut him, not hard enough..that day he was even rougher.

So i stayed away, slept in my aunt house and i started to steal so they’d blame it on him, i stole perfume money and it worked. Then one day i closed the glass divider, i was playing. Okafor heard a car at the gate and ran to open it, he ran straight through the glass. I was happy, he bled everywhere, they took him to the hospital, his face bore numerous scars from the stitches. He never touched me again. After that incident he came back for a little while but they settled him.

The next time i saw him i was 12, i came back from church and there he was in my living room with my mother in a white caftan and his new wife from the village. He said how beautiful and all grown up i looked, my mother said i could make abacha now and wouldn’t i make some for him.

I oversmoked the oil, the abacha was hard, dry and burnt. i served  it to him and his wife. My mother said that it was strange, that my abacha is usually good. He said it was perfect he and his wife ate it. When i came to collect to plates, he stared i picked them up and took them to the kitchen. lost in thought, i was so angry that he had the audacity to come back and pretend that everything was ok…the tray dropped from my hand the glass, the plates they’ used to eat were broken.

I was glad i didn’t want to wash the utensils and dishes that he’d used to eat.

** i try hard to black the images from my head, i wont let myself relive them to the fullest cos they were painful, they hurt, i felt taken advantage off, i felt left alone. I have been told later on in my life (boundaries, promiscuity, lying, cheating, stealing become coping behaviors, this view HELPS ALONg the survivors are monsters theory that i thoroughly despise and disagree with, to state from obvious i could have learnt picked up these behaviours from anywhere as a young girl growing up in lagos or anywhere else in the world for that matter) that i learnt very many disturbing behaviours from everything that he did to me the emotional manipulation, the abuse, my present eroticization of fingers.., i have not oVERCOMe anything, i Have not become more than anything because my lived experiences are a part me, the same way i cannot/will not overcome any day soon the pain the small of my back, okafor stays**i used to feel consumed in a way by his fingers like they blotted out every thought in my head, squeezed out everything that was me – displaced in my own mind/head.. this is really what i’m battling. From Okfor to everyone else that has attempted to utilize my body/ embodied self for thier own purposes.