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---When I was about 7 years old my mom had a boyfriend named Curtis. We lived in a house with my granma and 4 brothers and sisters, so there were 8 of us. Sometime during what was a perfect summer Curtis started coming into my room and fondling and touching me. I was a child. I had no idea what to do so I pretended to be asleep moving his hands away from my private parts and pushing his scratchy beard away from my face. I think this was the beginning of my insomnia which I still suffer with even today. After feeling the sickness of the secret and the undeserved guilt for several weeks I decided to tell my mom. I will always remember the look on her face as she listened to me and her reaction has shaped our relationship-or the lack therof. I will never forget watching him leave thru the back door as my brothers and sisters watched in confusion and anger that my mom was making him go, my grandmother looking on stoicly and my mother weeping. My mother never spoke to me of it again. She didnt call the police on this pedofile. She never came to me or ask if he hurt me or if I was OK. I was left feeling like I had just ruined all of our lives and in time my siblings found out what happened and treated me differently. Most hurtful was that I thought the tears she cried as we watched him leavewere because of it; not for me. This is the image engraved on my life that summer.
---About 6 months later I thought I was having the same nightmares all over again. I awoke one night to find my older brother doing a repeat of what Curtis had done. I was in shock and my defence was the same: to pretend I was sleeping. After 3 nights or so I stopped pretending, opened my eyes and sat up in bed. Looking straight at him I just started to cry and he left my room never trying to touch me again. The damage had been done. For me there was no childhood after that summer. And because my mother neglected to comfort and reassure me I never told her about my brother. Years later I told my sister after we were grown with families of our own and she told my mother. It was such a horrible thing for a little girl to carry within.
---So I spent my preteen and early teen years fighting off boys who tried groping me and even a grown man who stuck his hand between my legs on a city bus. Thru all of it I remained a virgin and somehow made it to high school as such.
---My first boyfriend was named K. It was my first real experience kissins a boy and allowing him to touch my breasts thru my bra but not my bare skin. For some reason it didnt feel right to go all the way. I remember a basement party at his house one Saturday and it was the night we broke up. Cleaning up after the party we ended up alone in his basement and he tried to convince me to go all the way. He kept telling me that he was my boyfriend and didnt I want to. All I know is I felt the same way as I did when all those other men and boys tried to do. I was beginning to think id have to fight for my virginity all of my life.
---When I turned 15 things changed. I walked into my art class one afternoon and sat in the last row. Thhis skinny little kid a year ahead of me sat down behind me and I felt a rush and a feeling come over me I have never felt with anyone else before on since. He leaned forward in his seat and said, "i think ill bother this young lady here." The hairs on the back of my heck stood up. I hadnt even seen his face all I knew is that this was a feeling id never felt before. END OF PART 1

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