I was about thirteen years old when the truth finally came out. I was outside when my mom called me into the kitchen.
She was crying. And I didn’t know why.
She asked me a couple of questions, some questions I never thought she would ask. But finally they were. “Has anyone ever touched you?”
“No,” I said.
“Please tell me the truth, it’s okay,” she replied. She began to name men and asked if they had ever touched me or if I knew if they ever touched any of my cousins. I heard her say her brothers’ names, then she stated naming her cousins. Then she said HIS name. I froze.
And I came out with the truth. I wasn’t sure what to say, maybe I should have lied, but I didn’t. I was living in fear of him for years and now was my chance to tell everyone what was going on.
“Yes, he did, it was him, it is true, he touched her,” I admitted.
But she didn’t believe me, or she didn’t want to. “This is serious, are you sure of what you’re telling me?” she said with a look with disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” And I began to cry, why would I lie about something this serious? Didn’t she know how afraid I was to say anything about it? We told my grandma about it, but we were just little girls, who would believe us?
I told her how it happened. How my cousins and I were playing in the garage when he walked in. How most of us were able to get out but she stayed in there. Then my mom said, “okay don’t tell anyone about this.”
That’s the day my family fell apart. Never again did I see my two aunts in the same room again. My mom’s sister, the mother of the cousin who was the victim and my uncle’s sister never talked again.
Never again did my family give one another a sincere hug. For a while we didn’t see that part of my family—my uncle and his sisters.
He was in jail for three years. His sisters were always trying to get him out. And they hated my cousin’s mom for putting him in there. My cousin’s mom was isolated from her own brothers and sisters because not everyone agreed with what she did.
He hurt us so he deserved to be in jail, but then, growing up all we were taught was “forgive and forget.” It wasn’t for revenge that I wanted him in there, but he needed to learn his lesson. He needed to know that what he did was wrong and that he shouldn’t have tried to deny it. It was his word against my cousin and other cousins.
My mom finally came around and realized he had to pay for what he did. She no longer tried to defend him.
If it was another man who had done what he did, no one would want him out of jail.
But he did what he did; he hurt my cousin. She is now an outcast from half my family. My mom’s siblings fell apart because of him. Eventually they talked things out and apologized for making things harder on her. Unfortunately, he never apologized.
To this day when we run into my uncle and his sisters, we hug and talk, but in the end, I feel the hate there.
