I refuse to be anonymous.
You know,
Every 107 seconds there’s another girl like me.
She is made to be like me,
Forced into thinking that the only way she can reclaim her body is to kill it.
She will spend every second of every minute of every hour
Telling herself that she just has to survive one more minute
Because existing for a day or even an hour is too big of a challenge to tackle all at once.
She will look in the mirror twice as many times as any other girl,
Not because she is conceited,
But because even in jeans and a polo shirt,
She will worry that something,
Anything, is showing.
Every time the teacher turns out the lights for a slide show,
She will feel the panic rising,
Tightening her throat and stifling the scream.
She cannot scream
Because she always wonders what would’ve happened had she screamed.
People will ask her if she fought him,
If she even tried to help herself.
If she’s like me,
They will make her feel guilty every day for wearing a white shirt when it happened.
You know,
Every 107 seconds,
Another girl will be made to be just like me.
She will answer questions she didn’t know existed.
She will choke when she tells her mother “Hands everywhere, not under the pants but under the shirt.”
She will stop referring to her body parts as hers
Because it is more painful to take ownership after being violated
Than it is to cast off the physical manifestation of herself.
If she’s like me,
She will chew her cheek raw and mistake that as a meal despite never swallowing.
She will become so rigidly stuck in the past that she is unable to move or sit down.
If she’s like me,
She will be berated for leaving class when the teacher talks about the rape scene in a book.
If she’s like me,
She will be accused of being both anorexic and bulimic
Because what little food she can swallow always comes back up during a panic attack.
If she’s like me,
She will be labeled as both bipolar and schizophrenic
Because when she has a flashback,
She will talk or even scream.
Well, I scream when I flashback
For all those torturous seconds when I couldn’t.
I scream for every girl who cannot scream when his hands did not ask.
I will scream until I get justice despite this town which is high school clique small.
If she’s like me,
She will be taught that dressing a certain way is inviting other people to have her body.
You know,
Every 107 seconds another girl is made to be just like me.
I decided to test society’s theory and fight back,
So when I had the nightmare again,
I punched him in my dream.
I screamed,
And neither his hands nor the stigma were removed from my body.
If she’s like me,
She will drag an Exacto knife down her leg in order to feel anything,
And as the blood runs down her leg,
She will ask out loud, “Can anyone see me now?”
You know,
Every 107 seconds,
Another girl is made to be just like me.