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Health & Spirituality

Fucked Up Fairytale

Written by Jurnee West

Trigger Warning: The following content deals with childhood sexual abuse

 

I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yep, I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

My father taught me

Once upon a time my mother lay sleeping or crying or bleeding in the next room

when a big bad wolf slipped into bed beside me

He wasn’t looking for pastries

He uncovered my sweets and gorged himself greedily

When he was done

I lay crying or dying or broken or dead

my spirit fell over the wall and cracked open like Humpty’s head

I waited for a loving kiss to resurrect me

 

I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yep, I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Generational curse

 

Once upon a time

My grandmother’s brother tried to fuck her

When she told her people they called her a liar

My mother’s two uncles and one of her babysitters fucked her

When she told her mother

her mother called her a liar

My father fucked me

When I told my mother

she left him

 

…. But then she came back

left him and came back

left him and came back

left him and came back

LEFT HIM AGAIN and CAME BACK

 

Beauty came back to beast and brought me with her every time

And just like clockwork,

he was between my legs and her legs and other legs every chance he got

 

I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yep, I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

or to write

or to spell

or to read

or to forgive

or to forget

or to know that what was happening to me was not my fault

 

I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yep, I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

I remember being awakened late at night one Christmas Eve

So that he could fulfill his perverted need of using me

And the whole time I thought to myself what if Santa Claus sees me like this…

I was still young enough to believe in Santa Claus

Sometimes at the stroke of midnight my very odd mother would wake up

The sound of her footsteps echoing up the hallway

I saw the stallion turn back into a rat

The carriage became mushy and rotten

My fine dress now a pile of rags

And in his rush to hide it, he said fuck that other glass slipper

Just find it later

He would pull down my nightgown -push my panties under the couch and turn the TV back up

I’d sit there and stare at her as she asked “Why are you still up”

Why am I still up?

Why don’t you have the courage to STAND UP

STAND UP for me…standup for my brothers or my sister or for yourself or for somebody…ANYBODY

But mother please stand up

 

Once upon a time

A whirlwind of disgust and distrust began to blow

The burden of filth that I was under weighed heavy on my soul

Like Dorothy I clicked my heels together and said

there’s no place like home

yeah there’s no place like home

yeah there’s no face like stone

no face like mine

with a hard heart and a cold stare

I’ve learned to survive the best way I can

I don’t believe in heroes or princes or fairy godmothers

I do believe in good liquor and suspicion

Paranoia and locked doors

I believe that if my father only wanted sex from me

Then why wouldn’t a stranger

 

And P. S. I did find that other slipper

I found it all

Shattered

and scattered in the expressions

of other girls and women who look at me through eyes

made of broken glass and rotting pieces

I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yep, I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

Yeah I learned how to fuck before I learned how to kiss

because he taught me and she was too scared to leave


Image features model: @kingkesia photographed by @kylebabb. You can find them both on IG.

Article written by:

Zamara Perri is the founder and editor of the Black Lesbian Love Lab blog. She is a proud u-hauler who loves mangoes, cats, reading, cooking for her awesome partner and writing about some of the challenges and joys of black lesbian relationships.

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