Childhood is like the pink

Petals on a Yamazakura tree.

It’s sweet and kind

And innocent.

You’re not worried about what's to come

Or why your parents why your parents won’t

Let you walk home alone.

Only concerned with the rainbows in the sky

And going to the park,

Sliding on the yellow slide.

It was like playing in the ocean

Before the waves hit.

Only worried about dribbling bright orange basketballs with Juliana

On the playground at recess.

The boys play four-square

While I walk circles around the court.

Not worried about middle school where the boys

Would try to convince me to bang.

Only looking at me as a sex object 

Instead of actually wanting to be my friend.

I was stupid enough to believe him.

How do you tell the difference between water and bleach?
I couldn’t.

He disclosed my private details,

Bragging to his friends about what he did.

Being told “boys will be boys” 

at the age of 10

after he thought it was funny to make comments 

on my body.

MY body. 

MY body is not his to talk about.

It is not “boys will be boys”.

It’s not because he likes me,

He’s a predator.

Stop telling me I’m an hourglass.

I’m only 11 years old.

My body no longer feels like mine. 

It has been taken over,

Alienated,

And crushed from the inside.

It is now just a body with his hands imprinted all over it.

Oh,

What I would do to leave this body

And his touch.

I would sacrifice anything to forget that night

Or the days that followed in school

With his friends making comments on 

what I looked like.

Oh,

To be so young 

and yet so vulnerable.

I stand in front of Sebastian

Speechless,

And not knowing what to say,

As he outlines an hourglass with his hands.

Telling me his girlfriend is shaped like a door

Compared to me.

How do I respond to that?

Age 12

I was oversexualizing everything I did.

If my body was all I was good for,

Why not use it?
The constant ask for explicit photos

And opening my phone 

to see the inappropriate pictures coming in

Once again

As I’m stuck crying in bed

Alone.

“I’d never do that to you.”
I sure hope you wouldn’t.

It’s the bare minimum.

My mouth stays shut about what they’ve done to me.

The questions adults ask haunt me.

“Well, what were you wearing?”
“How much did you have to drink?”

“Did you scream?”

I was supposed to be able to look up to you.

Age 13 goes by and is forgotten like 12.

With a silent victim and boys who are too loud.

Having to hear how

Women are emotional and 

Have too many opinions.

How he banged that girl last night.

And she made him ask for consent.

Says it was a total turn-off to have to ask to f**k her.

Anyways,

Periods are “disgusting”

Even though they’re natural.

And if you’re a woman who likes sex, 

I hope you know you’re a sl*t.

But your boyfriend can be praised if he’s hitting it all night.

When you’re entering high school at 14,

Nobody really tells you what your experience will be.

Everybody preaches about how high school is so fun.

But I don't find it fun 

When the boys only let you play because

You got those tiny

Gym shorts on and

They don’t want you to leave just yet.

You catch them staring at your a** 

While you’re just trying to play football. 

Too uncomfortable to say anything,

So you pretend not to notice.

Why are you looking down there, Ian,

When my eyes are up here?

The words choke me from the inside. 

It is like hot molten constantly rising up my throat

Only to be cooled

And pushed back down.

Silenced, 

Once again.

Their laughter fills my head.

It worms its way around my brain,

Filling up every corner like the way 

Water fills a car

When it’s sinking into the neighbourhood pond.

The chuckles send goosebumps down my arms.

“Just take a joke”

after the boy with the receding hairline

at the age of 17

makes a rape “joke”.

Why do you find that funny?
What is so funny about rape, 

Kyle?

My mother telling me that once I reach high school,

I will carry pepper spray around.

She just wanted me to be safe

While I was walking home.

Scared of the man who’s walking behind me

With my finger hovering over the phone.

You guys say “not all men”
But who was pepper spray made for,

then?

I used to only wear leggings in middle school.

Told my parents I hated jeans.

But I haven’t worn leggings since 8th grade

When I realized that the boys talking to me didn’t find 

my face or personality pretty.

Their eyes did not meet mine.

At age 15

I finally realized that it’s not 

women who are the problem.

It is not what we are wearing

Or how we look at you.

When a lion pounces upon a cape buffalo,

You do not blame the buffalo for being its meal choice.

You say that the lion is a carnivore.

Losing friends after telling them

What their buddy did to you.

I thought it was believe the victim,

But obviously it doesn't apply to you two.

I remember bringing my assault up to a 

“Friend”

And when she realized who had did it

She sent an upset face

And I had to apologize

And she told me 

It was okay.

We never talked about it again.

And when I saw that she had unadded me on everything,

To continue being friends with the boy that hurt me and

hurt my body

I had realized she was lying when she said

“Believe the victim.”

What a liar you are, Gen.

What she meant was:

“Believe the victim

When it’s not your friend”

Or when it’s not your brother 

Or a classmate

or a family member.

“I know him.

He would never do that.”
Well, he did.

You cannot claim “not all men” if you are one

Who are still friends with the 

Abusers

And the assaulters.

You are part of the problem.

“Not all men”

But if I put a 6 cookies in front of you and told you 1

Was poisonous,

You wouldn’t eat them,

Would you?

We have a one in seven million chance of 

being eaten by a shark, 

So why are you afraid of sharks? 

I thought being a girl was fun.

I get to do fashion shows in my moms clothes

And put on a bunch of makeup.

But the reality of being a girl is like being a fish in the open sea.

Sharks are always lurking

And you’re never safe.

You’re just food for them to eat.