twenty years ago, the same time, the same place you robbed me of my dreams, and of my sanity. how dare you talk to me as if you were a saint. you were never close to being a saint, not at all.
i will never forget that day. you pushed me hard against the wall. i was shocked. it was out of your character, but then again not because it was out of your character doesn’t mean you are not capable of doing it.
you did, what most monsters do to their victims; taking control by force. and what could be a petite girl had to do with the power of a monstrous human being like you? nothing. there was nothing i can do. and i bet there was nothing you can do too to prevent your other self from doing what you had done.
and why? i remember so well your eyes. they were on fire. the seventeen year old me then didn’t know it was a sign of someone who had been terribly hallucinating from being high on drugs. yes, that’s it. it took me twenty years to figure out where on earth did you take that much needed courage to assault the girl you claimed you love.
twenty years after, and after the much needed reflection, i finally realized you were high on drugs.
i slowly healed over the years. it was a very slow process. very slow. and i am almost on my way to complete healing; but damn it! you appeared from nowhere again.
the saddest part of your ressurection is you triggered back all the pains i thought i was already healed of.
but what’s pushing me to the brink of my sanity is when knowing that, the same person who gave me reason to want to heal is now using the same trauma against me.
where do i stand from here?
how do i take it from here?
twenty years past, and i am back. back to square one.
“Everyone has that moment I think, the moment when something so momentous happens that it rips your very being into small pieces. And then you have to stop. For a long time, you gather your pieces. And it takes such a very long time, not to fit them back together, but to assemble them in a new way, not necessarily a better way. More, a way you can live with until you know for certain that this piece should go there, and that one there.” ― Kathleen Glasgow
Helen of Troy is a figure from Greek mythology whose elopement with (or abduction by) the Trojan prince Paris sparked off the Trojan War. Helen was the wife of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and considered the most beautiful woman in the world.
Here is my poetic tribute to Helen, in conjunction with the celebration of Women’s Month.
i was just a little girl when i started dreaming of becoming a published author. that dream didn’t happen immediately, not even after finishing a degree in Journalism, (a supposed first step to becoming a legitimate writer).
life after college was filled with “hits and misses”. i became a school teacher, (that wasn’t part of my plan nor of my dream). but as a responsible adult, i realized then that we have to make use of whatever opportunity that may come our way. i enjoyed being a teacher. i love educating the young and making them reach their full potential as students with the hope that one day, when they need to live lives their own, they are armed with enough academic and life skills that will help them survive the world.
in my 15 years in the academic world, i’ve witnessed first hand, children who were victims of abused and violence. i’ve heard and listened to stories of abuse and violence from my students, colleagues and sometimes, parents. i’ve witnessed students being harassed by some of our male colleagues in the academic world (sad but true). i’ve heard how some male teachers manipulated and/or took advantage of the innocence and vulnerability of young female students (it broke my heart).
i then told myself; if i am to make my dream of becoming a published writer come true, i’d love to begin, by telling these untold stories and by helping create awareness that women, deserved to be respected; and abuse and violence of any form is unacceptable and should not be tolerated.
i decided to resign from my academic job in 2013 and devoted my time as a mother to my four growing up daughters.seven years after, i met the co-founder of Perak Women for Women Society in Ipoh Perak Malaysia, who asked me if i could write an advocacy book in support of PWW, i immediately said “yes.”the first edition of “After Rain Skies A Million Star,” was initially made available in Malaysia. the proceeds of the book went to PWW in aid of all their ongoing campaign to provide shelter and support to women and children who are victims of abuse and violence.
in March 8, 2022 three years after, “After Rain Skies, 2nd Edition” was published on Amazon worldwide. the book debuted at #15amazonbestsellers list, and was #1ebook on Kobo. one week after its official release, it became #1amazonbestseller.now, if you will ask me the secret to my success in book publishing? i’d proudly say, it is because i published my first book, with the sole intention of raising awareness and generating funds to help victims of abuse and violence. i did not publish my first book to make my dream come true. i published it to help victims of abuse and violence and make their dreams come true of one day finding themselves again living a good life for the second time.
i believe the universe will see the good that we do and will eventually reward us with more than what we wished for.
March 8, 2023 is International Women’s Day, together we can build a stronger and better society where abuse and violence don’t have a place.
if you wish to share your own story of abuse and violence don’t hesitate to drop me a message.
let’s eradicate the CULTURE OF ABUSE AND VIOLENCE, one story one poetry at a time.
thank you to Leny and Anthony Sanchez, Jo and Paul Almedilla, Ms. Nancy Baltazar, Ms. Sumathi Sivamany President – Perak Women for Women Society, Ms Yip Siew Keen Co-Founder Perak Women for Women Society,for writing beautiful forewords of this book
“I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being; let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.” Etienne de Grellet Quaker missionary.
thank you so much HindustanMetro and Janmat Today for honoring me with this recognition in celebration of the International Women’s Day.
thank you so much India🌹i am truly honored and humbled.
i would have not done what i did (and what i will do) without the support of my beloved readers and loyal followers, on WordPress, Instagram, Facebook, You Tube, MasticadoresUsa, MasticadoresaIndia and Spillwords Press NYC.
you can read more of true and insping stories of abuse and violence in my #1amazonbestseller book “After Rain Skies, 2nd Ed,” and inspiring poetries and reflections on surviving traumas in my #1newrelesse, #1amazonbestseller book “I Am In Intself Poetry In The Dark.”
thank y’all for reading, buying and sharing these books. thank you too for the wonderful reviews on Amazon, Goodreads and other social media review platforms.
my sincere gratitude to the women of Perak Malaysia and the wonderful people behind Perak Women for Women Society; they provided a safe landing page for my stories for the first time.
together we can build a stronger and better society where there is no place for abuse and violence.
if you wish to share your own story of surviving abuse and violence don’t hesitate to drop me a message.
let’s eradicate the CULTURE OF ABUSE AND VIOLENCE, one story one poetry at a time.
if you know of someone suffering from abuse and violence and don’t have the courage to speak up and seek for help, do her the kindest deed and BE HER VOICE.
“Why men rape is unknown to most. No one can tell. Some say it is a pathological assertion of power over a victim.”
join me as i share the true story of Ariel (not her real name), 20 years old and discover how her “no” gave her a lifetime of freedom and a a lifetime of self-worth.
i am grateful to Terveen and the entire staff of MasticadoresIndia for publishing this story in conjunction of the International Women’s Day on March 8, 2023.
may every woman find the courage to say “no” when needed just like Ariel.
women have the right to live free from violence. let your voice be heard.
join me and the rest of the world in spreading awareness and putting an end to the culture of abuse and violence against women.
read more of true and inspiring stories of abuse and violence in my #amazonbestselling book “After Rain Skies, 2nd ed.” available on paperback and kindle file on Amazon worldwide. its first edition, “After Rain Skies A Million Stars” is available at the PWW shop, 15, Jalan Market, 30000 Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia. Perak Women for Women Society (PWW) is a registered, apolitical, non profitable and non-governmental organisation (NGO) set up in 2003 to enhance the status and lives of women in Perak irrespective of their race, religion and social background.
if you wish to help PWW, kindly visit their website for details.
“what do you want from me?” i asked myself i want you to be seventeen again maybe then, just maybe you could undo things that happened your adult self couldn’t accept as true for being young and vulnerable for being young and weak for being young and helpless.
how dare you let it happen? how dare you played dumb and stupid? you were not dumb; much more stupid but at that moment that longest 20 minutes of your life you were, without a doubt no contest; dumb and stupid.
how dare you miss the signs? how dare you believe the lies? how dare you blame it on being young and being so naive at the same time didn’t you even think anything wrong could happen to you?
you were pinned down the ground by a man twice your size, just not twice your age but he’s older, supposedly wiser, and smarter that’s why you trusted that’s why you believed.
“i used to be seventeen,” there’s nothing more I can say i’m sorry I let you down i’m sorry i was too weak to fight back i’m sorry i chose to live rather than fight harder i’m sorry i chose a life in the future i’m sorry i had you raped.
it is heartbreaking to read, hear and watch news about women being sexually abused, raped, and killed. still, it’s even devastating to know that the age of women being sexually abused and raped is becoming younger as time goes on. what’s even sadder and more devastating is that the abusers, the perpetrators, the monsters, are supposed to be the trusted adult men in the lives of these young girls. they are their fathers, brothers, uncles, trusted male friends, male school teachers; the list could go on. and why is this happening? why is our society allowing these to happen? what kind of boys are we raising? what kind of men do we have in our community now? when will this end? when will men be ever men and not just irresponsible boys who want an easy way out of all situations?
i’ve read news stories and feature stories from magazines and newspapers worldwide that explain why girls are sexually abused.
they say, “girls should dress appropriately (no sexy clothes, no showing off of too much skin, no showing off of cleavage and etc.). for one, girls, young girls are entitled to have fun; fun in the way they dress, the way they carry themselves and the way they want to present themselves to the world. and most importantly, instead of focusing on what girls should do, why not teach our young boys and men NEVER to sexually assault, NEVER to rape a girl, or a woman, regardless of how they look and dress? why not teach these boys and men to RESPECT girls and women all the time.
they say girls should NOT trust anyone. but what if he is their father? brother? uncle? or teacher? a trusted friend? how is TRUST not possible to be given to these significant males in a girl’s life? will somebody tell me how? how do you not trust a male teacher who is supposed to be your male adult significant person when you are in school?
they say we should provide more awareness campaigns on sexual abuse against women. we’ve done that. we had that already, but it is still rampant nowadays. maybe, it’s time we flip the coin and do more awareness campaigns that boys or men don’t have the right to sexually assault a girl or a woman, regardless of the situation and condition.
let’s tell fathers never to molest or assault their daughters.
let’s tell brothers never to molest or assault their sisters.
let’s tell uncles never to molest or assault their nieces.
let’s tell male friends never to molest or assault their female friends.
let’s tell male teachers never to molest, assault, or take advantage of their innocent and vulnerable young female students, who see them as their confidant, father, friend, or advisor. this aspect of sexual abuse is not being talked about much, but i say, it is happening. male teachers are taking advantage of the vulnerability and innocence of their young female students, which sometimes leads to consensual sex between the two of them. yes, consensual, but the adult teacher has every single responsibility NEVER to take advantage of the vulnerability and innocence of their young female students who sometimes have fallen hopelessly romantically in love with them. and why? because we all know that the moment these girls become adults, they will realize the kind of stupidity they did for believing they were in love with their teachers when they were younger. and yet, they cannot undo this. that’s why it is the RESPONSIBILITY of these male adult teachers to not take advantage and instead make these students aware of the consequences and what they believe is valid.
let us provide more awareness campaigns, and at the same time, let us raise responsible and respectful boys in the family.
let us create a better and safer environment where girls can be just girls.
for Reena’s Exploration Challenge and in celebration of International Women’s Day
“i just want to sleep. a coma would be nice, or amnesia, maybe. let me forget, even for a while, just to get rid of these thoughts in my mind. did he violate my mind too?”
i remember it so well, the look in his eyes, the smirk on his face, and the way he moves his body. i remember it all. and it keeps playing in my head on repeat.
it was late afternoon but too early for the night when he passed by and drove me home. i could be graphic and narrate everything as i see it in my mind now, but i won’t. i won’t give him a chance to invade my thoughts. i won’t let him manipulate how my mind will work.
if i were to rage a war, i’d begin by telling my story of that one unfortunate night. he was a deranged selfish man who could not accept defeat.
why did he do it?
was my ultimate question. what was he trying to prove? sexual prowess or to control through fear?
and why didn’t i file a complaint?
i felt humiliated and confused. my soul was in great fear while my mind was in a rage. there was an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and a paralyzing feeling of lack of control over my life. i was haunted by the fear of the place in which it occurred. i became a total stranger to myself. i didn’t have enough courage to tell anyone much more file a formal rape case.
i became a fully functional victim for so long. i went on with my life and never told anyone.
i am telling my story for a newspaper feature in the celebration of Women’s Month. i know that he will read this and feel the wrath of my account. by now, he is an old man. old and fragile man; after all, it has been over two decades. and reading this would bring back the evil he was when he was young.
he will then now pray to all the gods that what he did to me will never happen to any of his beloved daughters (i pray, too, with all my heart). still, as we both pray, he would realize hell is coming his way now while i am moving towards reclaiming the peace in my mind and the serenity in my heart.
he reads his own brutality in the newspaper as he sips a cup of coffee. regrets will fill him in. sorrow will eat every cell of his body. he will take the newspaper and burn it until it becomes a complete pile of ashes. he burned it so that his family won’t have access to read it. but, lo and behold! his beloved wife arrived from work later that day.
“is this you? was this you? the description fits perfectly well, and you told me once of the young girl you dearly loved but never loved you back.”
so, i threw my trauma out of the garbage bin for the garbage collector to collect and dispose but you took it back and wrapped it in fancy paper with ribbons and scented color card packed perfectly like a holiday gift, then you hand it to me like a bomb bursting over in a loud noise.
there goes my trauma back all over again packed in fancy paper with ribbons and scented colored card.