Class 9/19

Some of the images we constructed today really spun some gears around in my head. Particularly the one that I was involved in. I think that being a child victim of sex trafficking is a rough role to fill, but it was very revealing, particularly when Joshua's hand was on my face. As we discussed it afterward, I couldn't really find a way to express the dualities I was thinking of. I hope that this entry is acceptable--I'd like to write a piece. A monologue. There's a lot of duality and a lot of guilt and a lot of misuse of power that can't transform people's thinking patterns, especially if they're young. So here's this.


(A young girl--maybe sixteen? In a safe space some years after being extracted from a sex trafficking scenario. Addressing God or a very talented therapist.)

I know that he's...bad. Evil? I know that I should probably hate him. Want him dead or some shit, y'know. I know that. Like, up here in the front of my head. I know it up front, and I can say the words and tell everyone around me that I'm a new person or whatever--that I'm turning my life around and "just don't want him to hurt any other little girls" or something. I know that. The thing is, though, like--well, look. He was my mom's boyf--no. He was like...probably just a friend or a sure thing or something. Not a boyfriend. So he was like always around, y'know? And it was kind of like he was an uncle or my new dad or some shit like that. And, like. He took me in. Mom left. She just took off one day, and there was like half a package of hotdogs in the fridge and all of the lights were shut off. And water too, and heat. So it was like fuckin' freezing or whatever and I'm like...this nine year old kid living off of some bullshit hotdogs. So when he came by, I let him in. I mean, why the fuck not? Right? He comes in and is like crying and telling me he's sorry and shit. It was scary, y'know? 'Cause I was a little kid, right? And, like, I knew something was wrong. I mean--that I was not in a good situation. I knew something bad was gonna happen. It felt like...whaddayacallit? Yeah. Ominous. And, um. And he just kept saying he was sorry. And he was crying. And he started taking off his pants, y'know? And I just told him how my mom wasn't there. And he kept crying and told me to take off my panties. I felt bad for him. I mean, I was scared out of my mind, y'know? And like, I knew he was carrying a piece, y'know? Everybody did in that part of town. So I took them off and just stood there with my panties around my feet. And he picked me up and set me on his lap--not, like, on his dick, or whatever. Just on his knees. And he set his hands on my thighs, and--like. Okay, it was freezing, right? So his hands felt really warm. And there was this part of me--I guess this really fucked up part of me--that was happy. I mean, I wasn't fuckin' retarded--I knew I was about to get raped or whatever the fuck. But he was so warm and safe-feeling. And like...I felt powerful. Y'know? Like I knew that I was pretty enough to make him stop crying. And, um. Like I know that a kid can't give consent or whatever, but I think I did. That first time, I think I did. So I guess-- (she clears her throat) I guess what I'm saying. (A pause. A trembling lip.) I know I'm supposed to know that it's not my fault, but I think it was that time.