Trigger warning: Before reading this post, please be aware that it includes descriptions of childhood sexual assault and abuse.
You don’t need to be successful to inspire people I learned that from my mother. I don’t know what made me decide to write this story, I had lunch with a friend on June 19, 2018. When I was talking to her about what I’m going through right now, she inspired me that’s my life can be a story. This story is a true life story of a girl who was sexually abused by her father.
I’m from west Africa, Ghana. I was born and raised there, my dad is from Cape Coast and my mom is from Jamestown. I was born by a beautiful woman named Patience, she was my everything. I left my mama when I was seven, she had no choice but to give me away.
I was giving to my father’s sister. Naomi was divorced but had a son who was not just a little cousin to me. That little boy was like a brother to me. After my aunt and her ex-husband got divorced, she moved in with her mother so I had to tag along. We called her grandma.
Grandma was my happiness, my best friend who tells me stories before bed. My Aunty was a hard worker she works all day and night always trying to bring something home. and I love her for that.
My father whom I didn’t know much about left my mom when I was two. He moved to the United States when I was three. All I knew was he always provided for me, money for school or money for my birthday which I didn’t have much of, he always make sure I was happy.
I hated where I was. Gosh!! Every chance I get to escape, I run away from home to my mother.
I hated HATED that place, even though I was happy there was a part of me that was dying to run. I was beaten, tortured and almost nearly died. My auntie wanted the world (including my father) to see she’s taking care of me but inside the house, she was hurting me. Every morning before I go to school, my whole face will be swollen up. She told me as she was trying to make me better.
Every mark on my body was a sign of cane marks that were used to beat the hell out of me. In all that, all she tells me is “I’m trying to make it better”.
I was leaving in pain but when my mom comes to visit me I can’t say a word to her, because that will be the end of me. But my dad gave me hope because he said, he was working on my immigration papers, for me to join him. Life was a leaving hell.
Five years later..
I moved to the state with my father and her stepmother, my few months was really good, I was a kid who was so excited to be with a father. Then I had another hell waiting on me, my stepmother became all evil like. That woman hated me and every part of me. Always getting in a fight with my dad because of me. This pain never ended. It went on for three good years after I moved to the state, until my dad decided to get a divorce.
Life has not been easy for me, my whole life has been a pain and it has not ended. On my seventh birthday, I had a party at my house and a very fun party too. After all the celebration has ended, I was getting ready to sleep when he called me to watch a mover with him before I go to bed. Of course, I didn’t see anything wrong with it so we put a movie in we got from the Redbox, it was one of my favorite action movies. I notice that I was getting tired, so I was dozing off, when we started putting his hands on me, trying to get into my cloth. Then at the point, I became fully awake. I said, “What are to doing, you drunk, I’m going to bed. “He forced me not to, till I struggled my way out and run into my room, locked the door and tears started running through my eyes. That night I cried myself to sleep. I woke up early the next day, rushed to school like nothing happened. Days after, we became cool and living happily. I took as he was drunk, so that got into him. But then no that was not the point, I faced that for two years, most the time he gets back from work late, I will be sleeping in my room, and my door has no lock on it, he comes into my room and tells me to keep quiet. Then he starts putting his hands on me. For two years, I was disgusted with my own body, of men. I could tell anyone because of the outcome. I was scared.
Then it continued, so I went to tell my aunty. The first time she did nothing, accused me of being a liar. I was hurt, I tried to kill myself once to ease all my pain, but I was taken to the hospital
…….
To be continued.