His Cold Bare Hands

girl.jpgIt was a hot summer afternoon. All she can remember is hanging out in the living room, watching Clifford. She heard a knock on the door, of course she was told not to answer it, because you never know who it may be. Her grandmother was home, she walked up to the door, and she heard her cousin’s voice. Excited as could be, little did she know her life was about to change.

She could feel his cold bare hands trying so hard to pull her closer, trying to take control of her. She was panicking, crying out, but no one was home to hear her screams. Then it happened. He grabbed her; she tried pushing, shoving, and kicking him off, but he was ten times bigger than she. He held her down on the rough carpet and tore off her pajamas. She tasted the hot salty tears running into her mouth, and then the instant sharp jolted through her body.

images.jpegHer insides burned. She wanted to stop him, she really did, but she was only five years old and he was just so big. The more she fought him, the more painful it was, and in the end she gave up and let him take control. She imagined being somewhere else, somewhere happy. This wasn’t happening to her and she couldn’t let herself feel. After moments of pure hell that felt like an eternity, he finally stopped and left her on the ground laying in fetal position. She eventually got up and managed to clean herself up. The rest of the day went by in a daze and she wondered if it was all just a dream or did it really happen. I was that little girl, and to this day I can remember every second of that horrific day.

Sexual molestation at any age is a horrific and traumatic experience to go through. At the age of five I was a little plaything for my relative that molested me. I may forget many things- addresses, phone numbers, birthdays, what a person might have said to me, but I’ll never forget what a person might have done. I can never forget the way that people made me feel: unsafe, in danger, scared, etc. I didn’t know that his actions would haunt me for the rest of my life. Never allowing me to be touched by another man, not even a simple pat on the back. I remember constantly thinking to myself that I should have done something, I should have known better to not let someone molest me. I obviously know now that it wasn’t my fault and that my abuser was a very mentally disturbed man that me his victim. I grew up quickly, but this experience made me who I am today. It made me realize that I want to be in an environment where I can help children like myself, by first sharing this story.

This brave young Kaur asked to remain anonymous.  We can't thank her enough for her bravery and courage in sharing.  If you, too, would like to share - www.jakara.org/sharing

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  • Baljot Kaur
    commented 2015-04-29 10:03:56 -0700
    It is sad that this happens to many children . Being in the culture that we as Sikhs grow up in speaking of such things is not the norm. I am happy that you shared your story. Hopefully many more will too so that others can be prevented from going through this experience. It is sad that for many the rapest or molester is usually a family member not an outsider.

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