(Part 1/2) I don’t know why I clearly remember the first time I was abused. I was about 3 years old. As I share this, I can still see my little self clearly and the face of the man. The man was the husband of my nanny at the time.
My mum would drop me off during the day and pick me up later in the evening. Sometimes I would have my evening bath at my nanny’s house so all my mum had to do was put me to bed. Instead of my nanny bathing me herself, she would ask her husband to do it. The first time, he made a bubble bath and put me in it, then he started to touch me in my private area and I remember it hurt. I can still see the smile of satisfaction on his face while he touched me. When I got home, I tried to tell my mum but she just yelled and shrugged me off. As I grew older I realized my mum was frustrated and had a lot to deal with. I just kept quiet and from then on, I always kept things to myself.
I was eventually moved from there, thank God, but I didn’t know that was just the beginning of that sort of nonsense. The next occurrence was with my female cousin, who would ask me to do inappropriate things. (I don’t want to be crude, so I won’t be specific.) When I refused, she would threaten me. Then the next time, it was her brother.
To be honest I didn’t understand why all of this was happening and I wasn’t brave enough to speak out even though in my heart I knew something was not right.
As I grew older, these things just continued. I was abused by both male and female cousins and people who I respected as big brothers. There was even a teacher I was very fond of. He started to make advances and I just couldn’t understand what a teacher would want from a kid. These experiences made me begin to notice that I wasn’t comfortable around older men.
(Read the concluding part of this story on our website.)