< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.

 

My first sexual encounter was very traumatic. I was 12 years old; it was a friend of our family, and we lived in the same house. I was also friends with him, saw him as an adult friend, and got along well with him. He took advantage of our family’s trust and our friendly relationship to commit a crime.

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That evening, he came over; there were many other adults there, loud music was playing, guests were dancing, and the room was dimly lit. He sat next to me on the couch, slipped his hand into my underwear, and touched me underneath them. He deliberately chose the moment so as not to attract attention: everyone was tipsy and having fun… I was shocked and scared; I didn’t tell anyone about it for a long time. No one even suspected anything…

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After that incident, he annoyed me, and I hated him because he kept coming to our house again and again, as if nothing had happened. I was young and naive, too afraid to tell anyone about it, and I had no one around me whom I could trust with my secrets and worries.

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I kept acting as if nothing had happened. His attempts to touch me happened many more times; he constantly stared at me and made objectifying compliments. After that incident, I always tried to run away or act aloof whenever I saw him. Eventually, I ran out of patience and decided to tell my mother what had happened.

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I was scared to speak up, but I thought: Let the chips fall where they may. I took the plunge and told her. My mom was shocked and asked why I had kept quiet. She asked for details about the incident, but in the end, she just accused me of lying and said that something like that couldn’t have happened… Our family friend had a lot of credibility, and I knew that no one would believe me.

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Even though I was the victim, I felt ashamed. I didn’t know what to do. My mom pretended nothing had happened and didn’t react to my story at all. Nothing changed… He kept coming over, and I found him more and more repulsive. I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. I couldn’t tell anyone that I’d been violated, and I couldn’t speak up.

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I received my first psychological support regarding this incident at age 28, when I sought help from a psychologist on my own.

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Anonymous author; story shared in 2023 as part of the “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence” campaign