BEHIND THE CLOSET

Why didn’t you shout when you were raped?

If I had hundred Naira for the time I have

heard or read this question being asked after a

victim has narrated a rape story, I would not have

to work another day in my life.

As a girl, you sometimes feel like a sea shell

beautiful, intricate, thrown up from the

underbelly of nature, but belonging to the world.

Neighbours, friends, strangers, and family

members. Unfortunately, in no way akin to

beautiful sea shells, your br***ts and va**na are

sources of electric conversation and unintelligent

analyses for people who have neither seen nor

touched them. You almost want to apologize for having a reproductive organ. Maybe your mother will stop being so angry with you over nothing – as she seems to have been since your menstrual cycle made an appearance. Perhaps your father will smile at you

a little more and not get grumpy when you

receive innocent phone calls on your mobile.

“Is it not ordinary br**st and va**na? What is all

this?”

It is not ‘ordinary br**st and va**na’, my friend.

Were you not told that your va**na is a burden

you carry, a red gash - an inflammation you must

be careful not to trigger? When your breasts start

growing, you are in double trouble. They must

never quiver, they must be caged by tight bras

otherwise you are calling attention to yourself

and “anything wey your eye see make you use

your head carry am”. For many girl children, sex is not something you 'own’. If you experiment at sixteen with a boy of sixteen, you are automatically the slut and he is

the adventurer. Sex is just not something the

world permits you to be associated with, AT ALL.

If you want it, you are a 'dog'. Your body’s biology

becomes a problem. You cannot swing your hips,

it means you want to be f***ed. You cannot

prettify your face, it means you want to be

f***d. Your hormones are doing what Mother

Nature requires them to do and your

unconscious acquiescence means you want to be

fu**ed, maybe by one man, maybe by two, or

maybe gang-bangs are your thing? What if you actually do want sex as a

teenager? Teenagers want sex, dammit! It is a

natural desire and it is not wrong, neither is it

your fault. What you do with it is what counts and

that's where sex-education is supposed to come

in. Unfortunately many parents fail at it,

especially with their female children.

It is just really painful how being a girl, you as a

sexual being are repressed. Your desires are

required to be bound tightly with strong rope and

carted into the bin of denial. In exchange you are

bestowed with the burden of ducking sex. In

other words, as a girl child one of the reasons you

are alive is to prevent yourself from being fu**ed,

literally and metaphorically. Never mind the

perpetrators - it's all on you.

If sex 'happens to you' without your permission,

it is your fault. You wanted it, you Jezebel, and

you made sure you got it, now you say you’ve

been raped. Even toddlers have been blamed for

their own rapes. You enticed your father. Your

uncle could not resist your swinging hips that

have only been weaned from diapers six months

ago. Your neighbor’s penis got swollen and hard

when he saw your lips sucking on your pacifier.

Throw away your pacifier! You are seducing your

uncle!

More rape victims are assaulted by people they

know. Stranger-rape is in fact not as common as

the one your brother did to your daughter or the

one your neighbor is currently doing to your kid

sister. So, why did your sister not shout when she

was raped?

When your daughter was raped, she did not

shout because sometimes when the person is

being violated the soul takes a back seat, not

wanting to fully acknowledge the horror, keeping

the body comatose, willing it to be all over.

When your niece was raped, she did not shout

because she would be blamed for not succeeding

at ducking. She would be asked what she was

doing in that office, that house. She didn’t shout

because she wanted it to be all over, quickly, and

maybe they could all go back to pretending it

never happened.

She didn’t shout because he had rage in his eyes

and she knew he would bang her head against

the wall if she protested too much and she would

soon be a corpse lying in the bush with no one to

avenge her death.

She didn’t continue shouting because when she

started shouting and screaming, he beat her up

and she realized she would need some energy to

survive this assault. So she kept quiet through it

all, hearing herself sob in her mind, and waiting

for it to end.

She didn’t shout because she loved him and

rationalized that his actions had to have been of

frustration, or maybe his bad friends put him up

to it, he would beg for forgiveness soon so what

would be the point in shouting and ‘disgracing

herself’, when this would all end well eventually.

All is well that ends well. It will be well. It is well.

She didn’t shout because every time another

victim had shouted, she was blamed for being

raped. Strangers and friends ripped her sexual

life apart, and her name was tarnished forever.

Sometimes the victim is not even sure she is

being raped. She is fourteen after all and she

reads Mills and Boon and she ‘knows these

things’. She feels certain she is in love with this

thirty-year old family friend and he has promised

to marry her as soon as she turns twenty. Her

parents who think him the perfect mentor for

their daughter have originally delivered her into

his hands. She is going places and she needs a

guide like him – successful, cerebral. And take

her places he does. He takes her to his bedroom

every evening and mentors her by stuffing his

penis in her mouth and bathing her face with his

sperm. He wipes her face with putrid socks. And

then he cries.

He cries when he tells her he loves her and

cannot wait for her to grow up which is why he is

not putting his p***s in her va**na – he is doing

the decent thing by putting it in her mouth

instead so that he can save her virginity for their

wedding night. He begs her not to tell her parents

because they would never understand – who

understands it when young people fall in love?

She is in love with him, right? He knows her

father is a strict one and it will cause a lot of

trouble for her if he ever finds out.

She is confused. This is not how Mills and Boon

describes it. Harlequin romances usually have

sixteen year-old heroines but she is fourteen, and

here she is, her mouth tasting like plastic, her

breasts hurting from his attentions and her head

spinning. She comes back for more mentoring

because she cannot stay away without raising

questions. What will she tell her parents if she

shirks her daily mentoring classes? Plus, she

thinks she is in love with him and her love is

enduring. Is that not what love is? Patient and

enduring.

Very soon he will stop behaving in this way that

confuses her and hopefully six years will pass

very quickly and they can be married.

Then he gets married six months later and stops

mentoring her. She is heart broken. What could

she have done wrong? Was she not good

enough? Maybe he just could not wait anymore.

It is all her fault for not being ready. Maybe she

should have given him proper sex? Everything is

her fault. Then she grows up and one day it hits

her – “I was raped”. Over and over and over and

again. But who really cares? After all "did he put it

in your va**na?" and "why didn't you bite him?",

"why didn't you shout?"

Not all rape allegations are true. But not all rape

allegations are untrue. Victims live amongst us.

They are our sisters, our friends, our mothers,

our nieces, our daughters, our neighbors’

children, our girlfriends and wives. Until we learn

to treat possible rape victims with respect and

empathy, we will continue to breed villains who

do the crime with impunity.

I am following Sugabelly's story and I have

vacillated between emotions all day. I am happy

for her allegations to be interrogated and I do not

begrudge you your doubts. However, a particular

trend saddens me greatly. It is this collective

shrug and general ‘yimu’ with which we treat

possible rape victims.

It is dangerous, it is vile, and it is the chief reason

why rape victims do not shout whilst they are

being raped or report rape crimes to their family

or the police.

But why do some rape victims ‘go back for more’

and why are they even in love with their rapists?

To be continued...

Osemobor Michael