I was born in June of 1955. I was the last of three children. I have two older brothers.
When the young intern delivered me, he told my mother that he was so disappointed. You see I
was the first baby he ever delivered and he wanted me to be a boy. If he had only known how
close to the truth he was. My mother was thrilled that I was a girl. She was just sure I would be
another boy. I was to be her last baby and she now had a daughter.
When my father came to see her after I was born she was radiant with happiness. She
said, " oh we have a beautiful baby girl". My father was a little less than thrilled. He told her
that he didn’t know that much about girls and he was a little afraid of trying to raise one.
My mother didn’t hear the despair in his voice but it was there. It was the cry of a sick
sick man. He was aware even then that he couldn’t raise a daughter because he
couldn’t save himself from the perversion that would over take him.
The day that my mother and I came home from the hospital, my father took me to change
my diaper and while doing that molested me.
The signs were there but no one cared at that time in history what was happening to a little
girl, especially a little girl whose father was an Ordained Baptist Minister.
Life went on for us, and we developed ways of handling things. First of all the father
would tell us that all daddy’s checked their little girls this way. That worked for awhile to keep us
quiet. He would take me into his room upstairs, remove my panties, and molest me. It would
hurt so terribly that I finally got to the point that I left when it was happening. I would separate
myself from that little girl being molested on the bed.
By the time that I knew that this was not right, he had me so scared of him that I wouldn’t
say anything to anyone. He would call me into his room, or catch me alone somewhere and
molest me and then tell me to make sure not to tell anyone. I honestly didn’t know anything to
tell anyone. I left as soon as I saw the look on his face and knew.
When I was ten, he raped me for the first time. He told me to lay on the bed with my
pants off and then he laid on top of me. I remember seeing this but not feeling it. From then on
there was no more molestation, there was just incest and rape.
My older brother also had a sex control problem and would rape me whenever he could,
sometimes he and the daddy would work together on me. I would see it but I wouldn’t feel it.
I used drugs, I started smoking, I didn’t know why I did all these bad things but I just
knew that they would happen and I didn’t know how or where. I went to bed with every boy
who asked. I had no morals about sex, I was like an animal. I didn’t enjoy it, I didn’t want it, but
I felt that I had to do it to make the boys like me.
When I was fifteen, flunking out of school, getting stoned everyday, being used by boy
after boy, something finally broke inside of me. I told a man that worked at a Youth Service
Bureau all about my father. I remember the conversation but I didn’t say it, I just heard it. The
man told me I had to tell my mother. I did, she choose not to believe me. She knew it was true but
she didn’t care to deal with it.
My name is still Christine, I have survived. I have conquered my fears of the world and have times that I
am on the outside. I have a whole group of my own.
I eventually married and had two beautiful daughters. They held me together when
nothing else could. Now my life is strong and stable with a man who loves me and accepts the
different parts of me. This is who and what I am, and without my friend Serena, as I recently found out, I would never survive.
Christine
God Gave me the Strength to be Who and What I am. Without Him there would be no Christine.
Beseen Bulletin board will be closing down on the 18th of August, would you please start now posting in our new board. Thank you for your help. Serena
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