Opeziba Peters

Nigeria

It was good for me

Waking up in shock to my skirt down and his fingers in my vagina, he scampered as I struggled to pull my pants up.

My seven-year-old self, who had been running around all day and went to bed without a bath, couldn’t go back to bed, afraid he’d be back. Culture thought it protected me by not letting me into what’s between my legs, but it happened again, and I couldn’t tell for fear of shame and blame. How did a 7-year-old know she’ll be blamed? Well, she was right.

Growth happened, I got some education, the Internet opened my mind and I started connecting with stories from others. I realized I have been in a prison of abuse. I have not faced this one demon that my environment, faith and people will want me to keep tucked in somewhere in my mind’s shelf, because he who did this, was blood; and you shouldn’t call out blood, because we all have it red. It was good for me, because today, this is my story.