For years, I thought it was my fault. That I did something wrong. That somehow I had invited his adult lips to touch mine. Or that I had unwittingly enticed his grown man’s hands to explore my no-no place. I was only 10 years of age after all. What did I know of the art of seduction? Clearly, I had stumbled across some universal signal to adult men that sexual touching was welcome. Or that’s what I thought afterwards…when it was all over and I was left to contemplate the violation that had occurred. And his warning to keep silent about it. He didn’t have to warn me though. I didn’t want to talk about it. What would I have said? How could I have described what happened? And my role in it? So I just sat wondering how I got there. Unlike so many others with similar experiences, mine only occurred the one time. There was no repeat. Thank God. But the truth is, there did not need to be a repeat occurrence for me to feel like a prisoner in my own home…for me to feel like it would
Thoughts about this Christian journey.