Hey guys it’s ya girl again @fancyf3m,
So, I’m writing this post while I listen to a “Feminist Anthems” playlist on Spotify fresh out of Shoutout’s! V-Day event (which, was needless to say, remarkable). Tonight was the first time I had ever not only read one of my poems out loud, but out loud to a group. With that, I decided to either go big or go home, so I picked one of my most personal poems I have written. After performing I immediately felt so much lighter. It felt as if I had the world lifted off my shoulders because I haven’t shared this said experience with very many, so it was nice to share a little piece of it. Now, with that being said, with the adrenaline pumping and music blasting, knowing I could never write this without those factors… here we go! 🙂
So, I have always identified as a RAGING feminist. I am a gal who is never afraid to speak her mind, I never shy away from a heated debate, and I will always stand up for herself. However, there was a point of time where I could not say that about myself. So get comfy y’all it’s story time.
So I met, for the sake of keeping his privacy ( which isn’t deserved), Tulip in January of 2018. I met him a tattoo convention in Washington D.C. He was there with the tattoo artist he pledged his loyalty to, and when I saw him I thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He was tall, dark, and fairly attractive with tattoos cascading his arms. I went to their booth solely to get his attention and it worked (sadly). He very kindly asked for my number and we immediately started texting that night. I was immediately head over heels.
It started out wonderful with Tulip. He was a boxer out of Maryland and told me he was suppose to be going to Olympics at some point of time. He was charming, only a year older, smart, and determined. He was at the time perfect, but little to my knowledge he was evil. I thought he was my Prince Naveen, but he quickly turned into Dr. Facilier
So, when things were what I thought to be tranquil, he managed to convince me to send him nudes. Silly, naive baby me was convinced that if I didn’t send them I would lose him (which I actually would have benefited from). However, I thought I was smart about it. I sent them on snap chat and made sure he knew I didn’t want him to screenshot them and, to my knowledge) he didn’t. I just knew I was in the clear and only sent them once, so no biggie right? WRONG! Things went downhill quickly after that.
Immediately after the explicit pictures of my underage body were sent, he would send me nasty messages at all times of the day. He sent me stuff that made me immensely uncomfortable and I had no idea how to stop it.
So, after receiving messages like that on the daily, I grew tired of it. I started to cut him off slowly and finally had him ghosted within a few days. February 20th rolls around, a few weeks after the screenshot featured above, and my worst nightmare happened. The day started normal, and I hadn’t talked Tulip in days and it was nice. I was sitting at lunch with my friends when he sent me a “snap” saying that I owed him some nudes for Valentine’s day. Keeping in mind this mothafucka didn’t even tell me happy Valentine’s day. So I very kindly told him to fuck off and laughed with my friends. Later that night he messaged me again asking so I thought I would be funny and well I’ll let you see for yourself.
I felt alone and violated. It was 2 am on a weeknight. Before this night, I had never experienced such an aggressive anxiety attack, I thought I was going to die. I honestly, wanted to die. For all I knew, that was the only way out. I never knew when it was going to end, and honestly, that was the closest time I have ever come THAT close to attempting suicide. I cried for hours, I vomited, I screamed into my pillow in fear of waking my family and did everything and anything Tulip told me to do. This included, sending several pictures and videos of my vagina, which had never been seen by anyone but me since I was in diapers, pictures of my ass, and pictures of my boobs ( I deleted from message thread so when he says “damn” that’s what he was referring to).I showed this excuse for a man parts of me I had never showed, and that wasn’t even the hardest part. The hardest part was typing through the tears with shaky hands that I loved him, knowing it was a lie. I fear what he would do if I told him the truth, that I hated him and would never stop hating him, so I obeyed like a good little girl. My life as I knew it was over. My body was no longer mine, my mind wasn’t the same for months and honestly still isn’t. And all I could think through this exact moment was that if I had just kept my mouth shut and fell in line this would have never happened. So, after that day that’s exactly what I did, I didn’t tell a soul.
This went on for three months. For three months everyday I had to do my part to keep him from exposing me and, what I though would happen at the time, ruin my life. For those three months I was an unrecognizable person, and I couldn’t even ask for help, I had no idea how to ask for help, I was just so ashamed. I blamed myself for this, for being dumb enough to ever send him them. So I went through this alone, and trust me I never felt so alone. Then, finally my seventeenth birthday rolled around, and something remarkable happened.
It was finally over. I no longer had to do things I didn’t want to, and I could finally breathe again. My life could finally begin again and I could finally be happy.
So, now that it has been three years since the nightmare itself, I am a whole different woman. I will NEVER let another human being take my voice again. I have grown into something beautiful even with something so ugly happening to me. For the longest, I had a hard time really labeling what the experience was. I was scared that the #metoo movement just didn’t apply to me since it wasn’t anything physical, and honestly, I was scared that I could identify as a member. But now I accept the fact that was indeed sexual harassment, and even though he didn’t physically touch me, he took a physical toll. Tulip took a part of me that I will never get back, and to that: FUCK YOU TULIP. As I close this post, hoping y’all made it this far, I feel so relieved. Telling my story has already made it tremendously easier, since I’ve only told a couple of other people before the V-Day event. With that being said, to anyone experiencing any sort of sexual violence please don’t be afraid to let someone know, it doesn’t necessarily have to be the authorities, but someone. No one deserves to suffer in silence.
Thank you for allowing me to share