A Rape is an Unforgettable Tragedy

This blog has been untendered for a while, and I’m wholly to blame for that. I’d be very surprised if there is anyone sparing a moment to read this post. In my absence, both great and disappointing things have happened. But we have a whole future ahead of ourselves to discuss all of those shenanigans.

I’m here now because I’m both confused and hurt in equal measures if not more confused. In the many things that have happened it was brought before me that I’m a littering black monkey who should be grateful to Jan Van Riebeek, his offsprings and all the colonisation that came along with his ship. And whilst at it I need papers to prove that Africa is the land of my forefathers (read: my land).

What got me to sit down and pen this is the fact that I value honesty. Hence I believe that everything should be questioned; every doctor’s lab rat should be tested, every frog dissected until the truth is left before us to accept or deny and Amber the activist Armour. Her story is not a one plus one, from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t add up.

Above all that, I have no stand to say much just that there are things I don’t take kindly to and lying about rape is one of those things. Because not only does it insult the victims, gives perpetrators the platform to dwell and rejoice, it degrades the society. It leaves us as the society with room to allow foul play on our watch because we’re in doubt.

So Amber their activist, a rape is a tragedy its not some cocktail party story you make up as you go along. It is not a marketing campaign. It is the most unforgettable, realist encounter that could ever be witnessed. You do not forget it, you could tell it a million times and it will remain as it is.

You do not forget a sexual violation because it keeps you up at night. You keep wondering why it happened to you. It makes you hate the weird ‘new body’. After the violation the only thing you think of is death because you just want to shut and forget the non-stop images of the encounter playing in your head. Sometimes you wonder why you stopped fighting; why you allowed the perpetrator to have their way on your body, why your energy drained out when you needed it the most. Sometimes the damage is so dire that you wake up the next day with stinking, messed up pyjamas. At times you keep plotting revenge avenues that end up in tears because you know it will never give back what you’ve lost.

I have no idea what happened to Amber. I can ask questions that can unintentionally be rendered rhetorical. I do not know what is going on in her head but let me say this; being raped is emotionally draining, its something that you live with every day, its a pain that you have to overcome every single moment. It is shaming because it takes away everything you thought you were – and you have to start all over again. Being raped is not a joke. It is something you never forget, no matter what.

I’m sorry this happened while she was in our beloved country, in our city of Cape Town; the beautiful mother of supremacy. May the gods of our beloved land guide you.

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