Once upon a time in 2011, I allowed a girl live with me in my room for what was supposed to be a few days. The plan was she crashed with me till she got her own apartment. Her name was [D], a chic that looked like sex from the south-south. Although things ended up like... I look back at that period to realise I learnt a lot. That period is known as The-[D]-Project and these were the lessons I learnt.
Lesson 3: Our Skin is Our History
[D] knew she was sexy and nobody could make her feel otherwise. She was used to striking seductive poses and requesting I take pictures. Bum shorts shots and other booby pictures. She believed she would look great in them. As much as she would claim she could be the next Miss. Universe, she believed she didn’t have a great skin. Her skin had her past all over it and her past wasn’t pretty.
[D] was in an abusive relationship with her boyfriend she found impossible to walk out of. It felt like she was comfortable with him beating her up to the point of leaving scars behind. The physical scars were inflicted with fists, boots, and any other object that could cause harm. The emotional scars were inflicted with the words he voiced with bitterness about how useless she was as his fist landed. She could have walked away and gain the support of friends and relatives for that decision but she did not. It wasn’t a secret she was a punching bag. Obviously they all weren’t cool with it especially her father.
[D] hardly mentioned her father and the silence said it all, they weren’t cool with each other. It took time but she made me know the environment she grew up in. [D] grew up in a large family that appeared like the father didn’t know what a condom was. It wasn’t polygamous, just lots of kids especially females. The relationship with the dad was a healthy one until an unfortunate event. [D] grew up having one of her male cousins as her best friend during their late childhood period. Like best friends they did most things together so it wasn’t a surprise they decided to have a swim in a river. The guy drowned and it was unsurprising the blame was put on [D]. Maybe that was the cause of her father’s hostility towards her, the fact remained that was the moment of his attitude change. His first attack was suggesting she was ‘possessed’.
As she reached puberty he began to label her ‘prostitute’ and attempted to make her unattractive. He would cut her hair and made sure her clothes weren’t fitted. All he could do was try but her assets couldn’t be hidden. A guy was bold enough to visit her at home once, he escaped the father’s wrath but she didn’t. He stripped her naked on the streets, rubbed pepper on her skin and flogged the hell out of her. There were times she did respond with an attack but it only made their broken relationship worse.
She got relieved from her father’s oppressive and abusive nature when she got admission into the university in another state. He deprived her of allowances but not the satisfaction of being far away from him. That was the way he could punish her at that age considering she could defend herself and once threatened to redesign his car with a knife.
I put all those into consideration and the experiences she had with her father was bound to leave emotional scars. What Francis, her [ex] boyfriend, did to her might be nothing compared to what the father she experienced in the hands of her father. Perhaps that was the way she defined love/acceptance from manly figures.
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