My first story:
A 7-year-old girl.
She goes to the grocery store every day.
The grocer forces her to look at the scale behind the counter as he stands behind her and says,
“I can’t see very well.”
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation

There was an uproar on Facebook a while back over the group rape of children at a school.
The children were forcefully gathered and put together in one place.
It’s said that they were put on the roof once, and in the school theatre another time.
There were a lot of rumors surrounding the incident,
So it wasn’t clear what exactly happened. 

I hate putting myself in positions of vulnerability,
Even though, I know this kind of space is meant to be safe.
Comforting.
Empowering.
I have felt that way in the past and let go.
I have trusted those who I am expected to trust.
First, my uncle: the funny one.
Later, a monk.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation

I stopped hearing about her a long time ago.
When I found out that she was in a relationship,
With someone who was prepared for marriage,
And that they were intending to get married,
I withdrew in a nice manner and wished her all the best.
I mean I know my luck:
I am always too late.

I was six or seven years old.
Mama wanted me to learn a musical instrument, so I chose the piano.
She looked for a place that could teach me and found an instructor at the club.
They arranged for me and my brother to take lessons with him.

He molested a girl in second grade.
I didn’t understand and couldn’t fathom what was happening.
I only knew that I was very mad.
But I didn’t say anything.
He was my English teacher.

I’m a woman who has been struggling her entire life.
Ever since I was a little girl,
I’ve been struggling.
My father was a national railways inspector.
He passed away.
I got married to a man who came from a modest family.
I thought they’d care about my wellbeing.

I was harassed more than once.
I think I was in fourth grade the first time it happened.
I was on my way home with my little sister.
I sat beside someone.
He had a strange vibe.
I didn’t want to sit next to him,

Then I told them I was going to the bathroom.
The bathroom was in a dark area,
So I told my cousin to come with me.
“I’ll come with you because it’s dark,” the relative said.

I was pretty young—eight years old—the day I started working at the workshop. It was during a school vacation.
There wasn’t internet back then, and there were only two TV channels.
I knew nothing about sex at the time.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, sex