The Touching Truth

I recently went to see the movie “Precious” produced by Oprah Winfrey, Tyler Perry and along with 5 other co-producers. This extremely powerful film was based on the novel titled “Push” By Author Sapphire. Its opening weekend was featured in just a handful of theaters in several states and because of its phenomenal cast was sold out making this film a huge success. I viewed the films trailer like many, however reframed from reading the synopsis so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I sat in the theater as the movie began and it wasn’t long before it started that I knew this was going to be a movie that touched home way too close.

I wasn’t prepared for how this movie would really affect the wounds that’s yet to heal. The main character was abused by her mother and father sexual, emotionally, verbally, and physically. These scenes were often graphic and touching to my heart. Although there’s not an exact comparison to the story line and myself there were so many innuendos that were alike. I sat there in complete amazement with tears streaming down my face trying to keep my composure. Many times I contemplated leaving the theater thinking it was just too much for me to handle. I started to visualize all the acts done wrong upon me. Some of these glimpses I haven’t thought about in years. Maybe I was hoping I suppressed them so far back I would never remember them. I would soon learn that this movie would be an “emotional trigger” I'd soon have to face.

I never had bad images of my mother during my adolescent years. Memories of her were always nice, caring and gentle. She was up in the morning to fix me a warm breakfast and after school there was always a hot meal. With time that changed, years of being with an emotionally abusive alcoholic, which I had grown to call daddy had begun to wear on her spirit. In the years to come she would become a victim of alcohol herself. Though there is no direct resemblance of my mom and the character’s mother, I can remember times in the movie where they were quit similar.

Alcoholics are unpredictable in character and often display rage, emotional and verbal abuse. That disease would test my limits in my teenage years and bring confrontation, fear, self doubt and resentment. I managed coping skills for survival during her bingeing times. Aside from the drinking my mom had no flaws. When alcohol was out of the picture she meant the world to me and when she was drinking I just wanted to disappear.

The man that I would call my “Dad” would be just one of my predators throughout my life. He raised me from the ages of 2-13 year old. My step-father would introduce me to my first sexual experiences at a very young age. I never knew exactly when it first started however, my first images were when I was about 4-5 years old but I can almost guarantee it started way before then. The secrets between he and I would stay bonded until he left the household when I was 13. I recall frequent visits in the middle of the night, hiding spots created by him so he could fondle me or play times that weren’t so playful.

He was always careful so that he wouldn’t be exposed of his horrific crimes upon a child. I remained silent to protect my mom, my family and the father I had grown to love. After many years of being preyed on, you began to believe that these things are supposed to happen. After all, he’s daddy and he could never do anything to hurt you. I had countless interactions with my dad and with my growing age the demands began to get more pressured but I stayed true to being his obedient little girl. What little girl wants to disappoint their father?

Throughout my lifetime I would have three molesters by the age of ten and raped by the age of 16. Honestly, I believe the predator number was higher than that. I’ve blocked so many memories in order to move on and forget something’s are just a blur. Sometimes I think back and realize how used I felt as a child or how insignificant I felt as a teen. It always seemed as if someone wanted to touch the very sacred parts of me. Over time it became natural to give people what they wanted. My years as a teen and into adulthood I would waste my body trying to get love through acts of sex. I guess that was learned behavior.

It has taken me a great deal of courage to tell my story in hopes of helping others so that some child can realize that their not alone. I have overcome a lot of obstacles in my life. I defied teenage pregnancy, drugs and many other statistics that often face victims. I stay strong and keep my faith that God has a plan to use me as a motivating vessel. To this day I’m still consumed with depression but I’m no longer shameful of the acts done upon me.

Nonetheless, I left the theater feeling re-haunted by life’s images and even more passionate about the importance of sharing my story. I was molested, raped, lived in a chemically dependent household, and often verbally and emotionally abused. I am a survivor of many things but I am a victim no more.

I Am One

I don’t sit alone in this cold lonely world
There are many touched just like me
We all face the same fate
Of recovery from self hate
And shame that they dealt
Upon the little one’s they felt

I Am One
Healing the wounds would hurt just as much
To forget the images of his touch
Locking the door would not keep me safe
But saying my prayers would keep me a saint

I Am One
The images won’t leave and haunts me by eve
Will anyone help this little child please
God has me near so I’ll trust in his sight
To get me through another day’s night
Cause I’m trapped in fear and the memories are still near

I Am One
The step-daddies I fear
Even though I’m his sweet dear
So keep me safe and clear
So I won’t be touched again down near

I Am One
There are plenty just like me
And silent they shall be
Sheltering the pain that was caused
From the innocence that was lost

I …Am… One…

By: LaSha Overstreet-Anderson