Author Topic: Sometimes you have to take a stand.  (Read 2624 times)

Offline Pugnate

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Sometimes you have to take a stand.
« on: Saturday, September 19, 2015, 01:03:37 PM »
Well I kinda tend to jump into stuff because I can't help it.

Here is Ruwa Rehman's story:

   
Quote
“I was five and my brother 10. Being the ‘man of the house’, he had always gotten away with things. My well-educated parents loved him more than anything. Since both our parents were doctors – well known doctors – our status was considered to be higher. Bhai had broken an expensive vase. Mamma saw him break it but it was my fault. Daddy saw I was getting beaten up for something not my fault so he took me to his room and cuddled with me. That’s when it started. And it was our secret.

    In return, I received what I thought was love. Plus daddy was just kissing me and touching me. And he loved me this way for three years. As soon as it struck midnight on my eighth birthday, daddy came into my room. I was giddy with joy. I would get my present now. That was the first night he raped me. Anally. I had to stay a virgin. But he took so much more. For years and years, he came into my room. I was battered and bruised. I knew it was wrong but I was too scared to say anything. I was sure my mother knew but she never heard my screams. She never came to rescue me from him. And his threats were never empty. He had always followed through. But I finally spoke up when I was 17. My entire family got involved and they tried to help me. My aunts and uncles intervened. But I had to stay inside the same house while they made decisions about my life. Conclusion? He shall never touch me again but I still should live with him because otherwise people would talk. And ‘my’ reputation was going to be at stake. In fact, my well-known family would have their status ruined. So it was decided that I’m going to live in my ‘home’. All this time, my mother threw it on my face that I had now tainted their reputation. And that I had been the whore tricking him into my room at night.

    Eventually, my family backed out, my parents tricked me into going to a therapist who put me on 18 medications and all I did was sleep and eat. But I had my friends and their support. And then suddenly and beautifully I fell in love when I was 19. That person had been raped some time ago and we both just understood each other so well that somewhere down the road of amazing friendship, we both were in love. I finally had a little hope. A little light that had lit up. Then daddy found out that I was dating someone and threatened to rape that person – the person who made me believe in love and understood what I had been through. In despair, without giving any reason, I sent a heartless text, ‘I think we should break up’. Heartbroken and devastated, our friendship was ruined. The only person I had risked to love never understood why and I didn’t have the courage to explain – safety was so much more important. And whatever friendship we had was now all gone.

    Six months later, daddy came into my room again. He mocked me. He told me how my family did not care about me. How no one had ever really loved me. How my ‘lover’ did not protect me. I was made to be used. My body was made to be used. And only he had the right to do so. I belonged to him. And then he raped me. He was more abusive than ever. All his rage and frustration had come out as a brutal force and had at times ended up with me having to get stitches around my genitals. I was so humiliated. And slowly I lost what little I had of me. I couldn’t even ask my family for help again. They didn’t care. All hell broke loose when I was 22 and had just found out I was pregnant. A baby was growing inside of me. At least I had thought it was a baby. A foetus, maybe? Was it mine? Am I supposed to keep it? Should I keep it? Will this baby be the first person who would love me? However, my (new and genuinely nice) therapist explained to me that I couldn’t keep the baby. I needed to get an abortion. And so I did. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I couldn’t risk it again. I ran away from Karachi all the way to America. With no money and no life. And I started over. That was two years ago. The agency that helped me made sure I survived. They took care of me like I was their family.

    And I did survive. I’m here writing my story. Completely detached from what had happened. I only feel the pain when I sleep and still have those nightmares. I have suppressed memories which bring back new memories I had forgotten. I am broken and miserable and lonely. And I have scars that can never heal. I have pain I can never forget. I have lost everything I had ever loved. I have stopped believing in love. I am still depressed and suffering from a severe form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). People tell me I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay? I don’t believe that. I had heard that for years. ‘I’ll be okay’ are hollow words for me. But I’m still here. I haven’t heard my abusive mother’s words in two years. My father hasn’t been able to rape me in two years. I am here. I am alive.”

So I wrote about it because I felt I had to.

People are so fucked up. So her father is really connected apparently politically. And him and the family is really messing with her. He even traveled to the US to threaten her, she says.

Now they've started this campaign to make her seem crazy.



Offline Quemaqua

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Re: Sometimes you have to take a stand.
« Reply #1 on: Sunday, September 20, 2015, 01:25:56 PM »
No idea what to say to that other than yeah, people are fucked up. I like to think those people are the outliers, though some days you have to wonder.

天才的な閃きと平均以下のテクニックやな。 課長有野

Offline idolminds

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Re: Sometimes you have to take a stand.
« Reply #2 on: Sunday, September 20, 2015, 07:43:21 PM »
Gah what the fuck.