My father used to hit my mother and siblings.
Sometimes for a reason,
And other times, for no reason at all.
He slapped her across the face once in front of strangers,
Because he didn’t want to pay for the T.V. to get fixed.

I was always humiliated and beaten up over the most trivial reasons.
He’d hit me and flip the dining table over if there was just a little extra salt in his food.
I was never allowed to open my mouth and give my opinion.
Cooking zucchini was always a frightening experience, because if just one piece of zucchini turned out smaller than the other, it’d be a disaster.

My friend and I—whom my mother chose for me because he was “well-behaved”—used to frequent each other’s houses for private tutoring lessons.
He asked me one time before the lesson about masturbation—something I knew nothing about.
He insisted on doing it in front of me.
sex, sex education, sexuality, masculinity, body image

My story isn’t about physical or emotional abuse.
I got married when I was 21 years old.
He was the first man I ever spoke to.
That’s how we were raised.
I took very good care of myself.

One day, he made the sudden decision to get rid of our television, claiming that it was “brainwashing and influencing” me.
Another time, after our first fight, he took my mobile away.
“You’re never seeing this phone again.”
He was so angry that I was afraid he’d do something to me.

My brother hit me once,
Because I was going to the doctor,
And he didn’t like what I was wearing.
He beat me until my clothes were ripped,
And I was hurt.

I’m 23 years old.
I’ve always been a very introverted person.
My parents got divorced before I was born.
I’ve always lived with my mother.
As for my father,
I’ve only ever seen him once in our house when I was young.
I said hi,
And left.

I was sexually harassed inside my house,
By someone very close to me.