Sharing My Story...

I want to share this story with you because I want to share the children’s questions, the children’s views on things here. But to share this story with you means I need to share a little bit more of myself with some of you who don’t know. So here it goes…

Four of our interns, Andrew, Nate, Andrea and Lauren S, go to a primary school that is located on the outskirts of a slum, just 5 minutes from our compound. They go to the school twice a week, after school is done and talk with six, seven and eighth graders. They’ve touched on topics such as Christianity, puberty, and sex.

This past Tuesday, the topic for the day’s discussion was rape. I was asked to come and speak to the students, to share my story, my struggles and my forgiveness from my rape that happened over 15 years ago.

When I started to tell them that I had been raped, some kids laughed. I asked why they thought something of a serious nature would be funny to them. They didn’t answer so I gave some thoughts as to why they thought it was humorous. The reason: they never thought bad things happened to white people.

I told them that 1 out of every 4 women in North America are raped. Therefore, out of the three of us white women at the front of the class; I was that one that had been raped. It shocked them.

I spoke at times, directly to the boys. “When a girl says no, you MUST listen to her. You MUST respect her no and not push her further or force yourself upon her.” I could see snickers on some of their faces. In a culture where in many places are still old school traditions, the men are still superior to women, the men still have control of women, the men can take whatever they want from women…some of these boys still lived in that warped existence.

I asked the boys who had sisters to raise their hand. Almost all the boys raised their hands. I then asked the boys who had mothers to raise their hand; again almost all the boys raised their hands. Then I said, “Picture your sister coming home, crying, bleeding, beaten, with torn clothes and she tells you that she has been raped. Picture it.” The boys grow quiet. “When your sister tells you this, are you happy? Are you happy to hear that she has been raped?” All the boys say no. I said, “Are you angry? Very angry at what just happened to your sister?” They all shout, “Yes!!” I said, “Are you so angry that they did this to your sister, that you want to go and beat them?” “YES!!!” They shout.

Then I say it. “Now remember boys, the next time you want to force yourself upon a girl, remember that she is somebody’s sister.” You could hear a pin drop in the room.

After sharing my story, I opened it up for questioning for the whole group: boys and girls. At first, similar questions were asked: “Were you angry with him?”, “How long did it take you to forgive him?” “Were you afraid that you could be pregnant?” and so on.

One of the first questions from a boy was, “Can boys also be raped?” And the look on his face was so serious, so sad. “Absolutely!” I said, “And it’s no less scary or wrong for a man to be raped as it is for woman.”

Another boy asked me the name of the person who had raped me. I wouldn’t tell them. I knew that this question was going to be asked and I had prepared an answer for when it was asked. I wouldn’t give the name out because I wanted to respect any boy in that room that could have the same name. I knew that if I had told them, they would all immediately point and laugh at the boy in the class who had the same name (if there was even a boy with the same name) and I didn’t want to cause embarrassment to someone that had nothing to do with my story. The students agreed that they would’ve done that and I’m sure all the boys were thankful for me not releasing the name, dreading that it may be their name.

After awhile, we separated the boys and girls. The boys left with Andrew and Nate to discuss more in-depth questions that may be awkward for them to ask in front of the girls. Andrea, Lauren and I stayed to talk with the girls and some of the most difficult questions were asked to me. With almost every question asked, I had to take a silent moment and ask God for wisdom. Without Him, I don’t think I would’ve been able to answer some of them.

Here is a list of some of the questions:

1. After you wrote him the letter forgiving him, did he contact you? Are you two friends now?
2. What if you’re raped and he gives you HIV/AIDS from the rape? How can you forgive him for ruining the rest of your life?
3. What do you do if you’re raped and you get pregnant and you have the child and the child looks like the man who raped you and you hate that child because it reminds you of the rape?
4. How can you know if a baby has been raped?
5. How can you tell if a girl has been raped?
6. What do you do to get rid of the sadness that’s inside of you if you have been raped?
7. What should you do if you are raped?
8. Are women in North America raped by their fathers or other men that they know?

There were so many questions; all of them valid; all of them asked with extreme seriousness. I looked around the room and saw in to some of their girl’s eyes. I could see the sadness; I could see the pain; I could see the rape victims. And it broke me.

I went through a time in my life, after the rape, where I was angry with God. I blamed Him, asked Him, “Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you stop it?” Back in 2001, God gave me the reason. He showed me the verse 2 Corinthians 1:3-4: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

I believe that God can take every bad situation that happens and turn it in to something good. And talking to those kids, especially the girls, on Tuesday about my story, sharing my pain, my thoughts, my healing and my suggestions to them, helped some of them. Even if it only helped one girl, then it was all worth it. When a girl or woman that I know has been raped, I am thankful that I am reminded of the pain that I went through because I know how to comfort and pray for those girls and women.

A few years back, I decided to work with God rather than fight Him and take the something bad and make it something good. It’s amazing how wonderful it really feels.