Rape, the very sound of the word makes people feel uncomfortable. It’s the elephant in the room in many families, and somehow it’s always perceived as the victim’s fault. I’ve always believed that it’s the silence of the victims that have given predators and society the authority to treat rape victims the way they do. Silence is great for most things but NOT in cases of abuse; there should be an outcry. The identity of rape victims are concealed, and I can understand that, because no one wants anyone to know that they were raped no matter the circumstance, so we hide behind the alias while our assailants profess their innocence boldly. While the legal system intended to protect us by concealing us, it has also alienated us and given the advantage to the enemy. Remaining nameless and faceless has harmed us.
My grandmother asked me, why did I put my face on my first book, How I Escaped The Prison of Rape: The Journey To Total Freedom. This book tells the story of how I was molested as a child and raped as an adult. Her concern was that people would come back and point fingers at me, and I told her that it was necessary for me to put a face to the story. Putting my face to the shame the enemy once threatened to expose; was my way of telling hell, I won’t be bullied. The things you continue to hide you cannot be healed from.