Dear Boy Friends
I’ll tell my friends about the first time.
I grow up a bit every time that I do
As my twelve-year-old self never expected
I would turn into someone who could say
“I was sexually assaulted.”
But now when I do, I even get to stick for the first time behind it
I was only 18 when I hit number four.
Now tell me this, that was the fourth time of how many more?
It almost isn’t even a question when sharing this with girls
I’ve stopped asking have you been, now all I ask is when
When and who was the man in your life who’s supposed to protect us
Who you convinced yourself that you could trust?
Now don’t get me wrong I have male friends who understand
They know it happens, but always in far away lands
Like they know of the girls who were gang-raped in Colombia
Or was it somewhere in Cambodia?
You say you believe the statistics
Now tell me this why is it that you specifically don’t know of any rapists?
Maybe because when I tell you about your friend Dave
You’ll laugh in my face and you say there’s no way
The first thing you question is if he knew
The second thing you question is if it may be my distorted view
But you don’t get that he didn’t listen because I didn’t agree
Now tell me this what else can the word no mean?
But for your clarification, because it’s always the girl who’s at fault.
I didn’t ask for sexual assault.
I didn’t say no and giggle
I didn’t say no while taking my panties off
I didn’t say no while putting his condom on
I said no
I said please don’t
I said I don’t want to
I was always told to raise your words, not your voice
Well let me tell you something, that didn’t work
They’re so obsessed with taking off my clothes
That I can’t tell them what they don’t want to know
They hear what I say but they’re not listening
There’s no reaction when they can feel my body stiffening
So I closed my eyes
And I quietly cried
Now tell me this, was that when my twelve-year-old self died
H.K.
