If you don’t tell them you walk with your legs wide apart like you have something hidden in between them, they won’t know. If you don’t tell them your in between like a continent yet to be discovered had been invaded and looted, they won’t know.

If you don’t tell them Uncle Wale is a monster and not as nice as everyone thought he was and he had pulled at your breast the other day leering and promising to “take care of you” they won’t know

If you don’t tell how Aunty Amaka played with your peepee and told you to put it in her thing and bounce on top of her, and then put your thing in her mouth and asked you to use your mouth to lick her place where she peepee, they won’t know

If you don’t tell them Big Daniel down the block said both of you should do what Boda Layi did to him the other time in the back, which you both did too, taking turns to insert your baby organs into one another neither deriving pleasure from an act that is a strange and fiendish, they won’t know

If you don’t tell them the head girl choose you to be her SP, special person and you became really close in a way you are not supposed to be. She told you she adores you most and you are “special”. You believed her and they won’t know

If you don’t tell, they won’t know why your face is purpled with bruises gotten from falling off the bed, they won’t know why you use crutches when you said your waist hit the kitchen cabinet by mistake, and they won’t know why your back is covered with welts. You think enduring his beatings and insults is part of the “for better for worse” oath

If you don’t tell, they won’t know why your wife did not help you when you slipped and twisted your ankles, they won’t know how the hot oil poured down your back when you were frying eggs, they won’t know how you cower and look for cover when your wife starts wielding a dangerous object looking for the part of your body she can use it on

They won’t know if you don’t tell, how will they help you when you have bottled up your feelings, you think it is right but it is not, nobody has the right to violate you, you think it is normal but it is not, nobody has the right to mold you into what you are not.
They won’t know, they won’t know your pains and the depression you face, they won’t know the nightmares that kept coming back, the horrid scene reenacted every night, they won’t know why you wake up sweating in the middle of the night. They won’t know the demons from the past you fight daily. They won’t know, they won’t know why you turn to alcohol and drugs to numb yourself. They won’t know why you turned out to be indifferent about so many things.

They won’t know, they won’t know why you did what was done to you to the little girl too, they won’t know your mind is distorted. They would blame you and curse you while they nurse the victim. You would want to speak but you won’t be able to. But they don’t know do they? Because you never told them and they don’t know you are as much of a victim as the little one you took

If you don’t tell, they won’t know or they might but choose to overlook, still you need to tell them anyways.

Sexual abuse is not something the victim should be ashamed of or shamed for, the abuse is enough injury to the psychology of the abused, taunting and mockery would further worsen the pain the abused is feeling.
Domestic violence is not something you tolerate, it is something you run from, you shouldn’t stay in an abusive relationship for the sake of your babies, sooner or later they’d become fatherless or motherless. Isn’t it better your kids grow up rotating visits between you and your spouse than them watching your spouse murder you in cold blood?

Speak up about your abuse do not be threatened.


I am not cute or built to suit a fashion model size, but when i start to tell them, they think am telling lies, i say, it is in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips. I am a woman phenomenally, phenomenal woman,that's me - Maya Angelou.

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