TW Warning: These stories contain detailed descriptions of abuse, sexual assault, domestic violence, physical violence and other forms of harassment and discrimination which may be triggering.
Growing up, my father had this particular friend, he would come over every Friday after Jummah to eat with us, sometimes he would stay longer, even if my father had to go back out. I was only a little girl at the time, but he would invite me to sit on his lap. He would tell me things like how pretty my dress was, or try to tickle me. I was very shy and remember only laughing and giggling when he did this. If I wasn’t around, he would call for me to sit with him, or ask my mother for “little (name omitted)”. On one occasion, when it was just him and I, sitting on the floor in the living room, he asked me if I wanted to take off my dress. I would always shake my head to say “no”, but he would tell me it was ok, and lift his Kurta, enough to show me parts of his body. He would take my hand and put it on his body saying it was ok to touch him, to not be “scared”. Each time, he would hold my hand and put it closer so it would touch his private parts. This continued to happen, until one day he stopped coming and I didn’t see him again.
I put these incidents to the back of my memory but I saw him recently, he is much older now and the memories poured over me. Reading these stories, I wonder how many others have gone through this silently.
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