Assault.

This is going to be a two part blog post, "Assault." being the second half.

I remember him grabbing me, and I looked at him and I felt my existence be consumed by fear.

It was the evening after the grand parade in Aruba, we had just arrived at a take-away bar with my dads motorcycle gang. We were laughing, my dads friend had ordered me a soda and we were waiting for our food so we could go home.

I told my dad I was going to the bathroom, which wasn’t anything for him to be concerned of since I was already 13 and we’ve been to this take-away bar before, so I knew where to go.

I pulled on the door hand, but it was locked so I figured it was locked and stood by the side, waiting for whoever was inside to come out. Unfortunately I stood in front of the door for the male bathroom, so when I got knocked with the door I moved to the other side where a man was sitting. I hadn’t noticed him before, but I didn’t recognise him either.

He asked me if I wanted a lollipop, to which I replied “No, I don’t really like candy.” He laughed and looked at his friend who smiled at me.
I still didn’t think much of him.
He offered me candy again. “Any kind you want” he said. I looked at him and said “No thank you.” and tried to look away.
He asked me if I was waiting for the bathroom and I nodded “yes”.
He asked if I was alone. I looked at him but started to doubt if I should say anything.
I tried to look away.
I remember him grabbing me, and I looked at him and I felt my existence be consumed by fear. I knew I was in trouble. I looked around in panic but I didn’t know what to do.
He put my hand on his penis and with his other arm, he reached around me and pulled me in.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.

I looked at his friend, who was still smiling at me, the same smile he was giving me before. I looked around again, trying to look for a waitress or bartender.

Someone.
Anyone.

The lady finally came out the bathroom and looked at me, I had no idea who she was, but the panic and fear must have been written all over my face because when she walked away, she headed directly for the motorcycle gang. I remember another hand grabbing my arm and slingshotting me back into my fathers arms. He looked at me looking for any kind of emotion or injury. He then shoved me into the arms of the ladies of the motorcycle gang and launched forward onto the man.

Chaos broke loose.

It was like watching a kettle of vultures. Every man belonging to the motorcycle gang got up. Within seconds the bar was empty.
As soon as I lost sight of my father was when I broke down and started crying. I couldn’t have wanted him more in this moment. I was rushed out the door and put on someone else’s motorcycle to be taken home. But I fought with every inch of strength I had. I needed my dad.

The guys said he could take me home, that they would take care of my attacker.
I clutched my dads vest and as we drove away I saw the police arriving.
when we got home it was dark, it was quiet, it was terrifying.
My sister was at her boyfriends but my dad had to go back so he called her. I didn’t want to stay by myself so I ran into my neighbours house, into her bedroom where she was, and clutched her with my life. I cried some more.

It felt like it was only a couple of seconds before my sister was there with her hand on my back. We all went back to my house and I cried some more.

My dad came home and told me he got away before the police got there. And that the police took note of what had happened, but we couldn’t file a report without a culprit.

I slept next to my sister that night.
Days went by and I had to move on, go back to school, go back to normal life. And so I did. I suppressed everything.

My dad on the other hand, though he seemed fine, it turns out he lost it.
years after all of this, I sat down with my mom, talking about all of this, thinking this would be the first time she would have heard about my assault. But she knew all along.
She had told me that during the two weeks after my assault, my dad hung out in front of a grade school by our house looking for the perpetrator. However this had backfired, and because of his suspicious behaviour, another parent had called the police on him. It just so happened to be the same officer from the night of my assault and he had recognised my dad. My dad called my mom because he felt so lost. My mom told him to get it together, because I needed him, and he could count on my mom, but only if he got it together.

I sat there hearing out my mom and thinking “Why didn’t you say anything?”
And when I had finally built enough courage to ask her, she said “You didn’t like me back then, it would have only been harder for you. You looked up to your dad. That’s all you wanted.” She was right. I thought about my dad, and how hard it must have been. Seeing his little girl in that situation.

I was never afraid of men, I wasn’t raised that way. I grew up between motorcycles and “tough” men. It was part of my environment to be in bars or at rallies. So this shouldn’t have been any different. But it was. It was the complete opposite of what we were used to. And it really shook my dad up.
After that I noticed he was more hesitant to let me attend certain parades or rallies, saying they started late or that I had something to do the next morning.

His fear of men may have grown. But my fear of being touched consumed me.
And this is a battle I’ve lost, because now it dominates me.

Hope this helps, Kamla.