WARNING: This post focuses on the important topic of sexual violence and may contain content that is upsetting to some. Please make your own decision about whether or not to keep reading.
Timing is everything. We’re lying down on her couch in the living room because somehow she got it in her mind her living room would make her safer than in the bedroom. I have a mission to complete, I cannot fail. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
She loves these stupid romantic comedies. Some girl in love with some guy who pretends to be oblivious to her until she gets a makeover; then they fall in love. Don’t tell anyone but I’ve seen this one before. In a couple of minutes will be the predictable corny sex scene. Dana’s head is on my chest and I know she can feel how excited I am. She’s playing coy and naïve, but I know she knows what’s gonna happen tonight. Her mother’s issue with her having sex is not my problem. I have a mission and I can’t fail. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
Movie guy touches movie girl; I touch Dana.
He pulls her blouse off; I touch her breasts.
“Hear mi seh stop it.”
I laugh. I try again but this time she grabs my hand and laces it with hers but I let go.
All I have to do is wear her down and she’ll give in. My friends always joke about this, it can’t be too hard. Movie guy is already far ahead handling his business; I’m lagging behind. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
I go for the breast again, under the blouse from the neckline. She reads the situation and gets up and is about to move. I grab her hand, twist and pull her down on my lap. Smooth move if I do say so myself.
“Stop play nuh, I’m done,” she protests
“Where you going?”
“To get away from you. Sex maniac.”
“After you done rev me up.” I can see she knows what I mean.
“There’s lotion and toilet paper in the bathroom,” she says half-jokingly.
“That can’t help now.” I hold her tighter.
“Behave nuh,” she says now with apparent alarm. I should probably stop and try again next time but I’m on a mission, I can’t fail. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
With another swift motion, I pin her down and she realizes we’ve gone too far to turn back. For a flash I think I’m much stronger than I thought. She whispers a breathy “No” but knows she must accept. So tiny and delicate, her resistance is a slight turn on. If I knew she could be so easily persuaded I would have tried this a long time ago. She ruffles, her laughing has a hint of exasperation bordering on defeat. I’m winning. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
A couple more tries and finally she’s ready to give in. I’ve won. Her fighting spirit is replaced with acceptance and I go in for the kill.
Thrust! This one is for making me wait so long.
Thrust! This one is for all the jeering I had to endure.
Thrust! This one is for everyone who said I couldn’t seal the deal.
Thrust! This is for not being able to learn an instrument, do acting or join a dance group.
Thrust! This is for me not knowing how to catch till I was 14.
Thrust! This is for everyone who laughed at me for having two left feet.
Thrust! This is for when I got a beating for sucking my thumb like a girl.
Thrust! This is for all the alpha males that picked me last in primary school P.E.
Thrust! This is for hitting puberty late and going through half of high school a scrawny pushover.
Thrust! This is for having to pretend I didn’t understand most of the things in English class.
Thrust! This is for every time I was beaten up for having a high-pitched voice
Thrust! This one is for my controlling mother. That B****!
Thrust! This one is for my father. How dare you not love me!
Thrust! This one. This one is for me. This one is for my manhood.
She grunts, I moan and I’m released. I’m done, and for a moment there’s just silence and nothing more. The empty bliss of silence, until tick-tock-tick-tock-tick.
Like many of the instances of rape or “forced” sexual contact in Jamaica, there is no ending. Just like the short story above, it just tapers into nothingness, never to be heard of again. This has to stop!
“A Caribbean study found that 47% of adolescent girls’ sexual initiation was “forced” or “somewhat forced”. “Forced” was the term used by many Jamaican men, women and girls spoken to by Amnesty International to refer to rape… These forced experiences occurred within relationships as well as outside them.”
(Hilary Nicholson, Women’s Media Watch, 28 August 2002, Jamaica Gleaner.)
This story of Patrick and Dana needs an ending. How do we want this story to end? Will Patrick be vilified, face justice or should we view him in a more compassionate light? What should Dana do? How would you like to see this play out in real life? Give me your comments, questions, suggestions or write us an ending. You can leave it in the comments or send them to email@example.com.