Dear Black Girl-Woman, It Was Never Your Fault (1)

Today I stumbled upon the book I used to create my blog posts in 2017 and 2018, inside I found a blog post that should have been published by now. It was about Elizabeth Ochanya Ogbanje, the 13-year-old girl who was raped consistently by her guardian, Mr. Andrew Ogbuja and Victor, his son, for five years. She developed a vesicovaginal fistula as a result of the abuse and was fighting for her life and justice at the same time, until she passed away in October 2017. It has been almost two years since Ochanya passed and yet nothing has been done, no prosecution or conviction, no justice. The hashtags ended, the protests discontinued, the public outcry quietened and the justice system did what they do best, buried the case, adjournment after adjournment. Once again, the justice system failed us, Ochanya has become another statistic, a 1 in 3 girls who experience sexual abuse in their lifetimes, another forgotten hashtag.

Over the past months, new hashtags have popped up demanding justice for several women and girls who have been victims of sexual violence. Protests are ongoing both offline and online, donations are being made, survivors are recounting their traumatic experiences and getting backlash for speaking their truth. Crowds of women are marching on the streets demanding justice for Barakat who was raped and murdered in her own home; for Farishina, the 12-year-old who was raped by eleven men; for Uwaiwa who was raped and murdered in her church; for Jennifer who was attacked and gang-raped by five men; for the unnamed 2-year-old who was raped to death; for the 3-year-old who was raped by a 30-year-old man and was slut-shamed by her own mother; for the two girls, ages 13 and 15, who were raped continuously by their father for seven years, and for the unreported rape cases and silenced rape victims. 

We lift up our voices daily, angry at the world for forging this insane existence where being female is a prerequisite to pain and injustice and we are termed bitter, angry feminists.

To this, I say Yes, I am an angry and bitter feminist.

To realize that I will raise my daughter in a world that deems her unworthy of existence, that equates her humanity to the ownership of property, I am angry.

To realize that my daughter may walk the streets in fear of being raped or murdered or even both, I am bitter.

To think that my daughter will have to second-guess any man present in her life because I will teach her to trust none of them, I am enraged.

To know that a child, eleven years of age, who is not lawfully permitted to drive, drink, or engage in other adult activities till they reach the age of eighteen, is lawfully permitted to CONSENT to sexual activities, is highly mortifying. 

The fact that the age of consent in Nigeria is 11 years but the age of adulthood begins at 18 years is abhorrent and distasteful. The Child Rights Act was fully enacted in 2009, yet we have seen no changes. The rule of law disregards the cries of women time and time again and nothing is being done.

I ask myself time and time again, when? When will it end? When will I not wake up the news of another rape victim? When will I be able to leave my house without the fear of being harassed or violated? When will our daughters be allowed to sleep in their beds without the fear of being threatened into submission by the ones close to them? 

The answers are unknown and that breaks my heart even more because when we finally speak our truths we are victim-blamed and slut-shamed, with all the “your dress was seductive, why didn’t you cover-up?” and “why should we believe you, where is your proof”. We are disbelieved and accused of falsifying stories for clout like Bisola and Seyitan, as though rape is a trophy that grants passage to fame and stardom. We are threatened by our abusers with the police force and other higher powers because of their money and connections. 

Honestly being a woman in Nigeria is an extreme sport.

They mock us by saying “why didn’t you report it to the police, twitter is not the court” when they are fully aware of the ignorant behaviour of the police force towards the maltreatment of women in Nigeria, (that’s a story for another day, I’ll write a whole post about it). 

They justify rape by telling us to “dress properly” to avoid being a victim, forgetting the hundreds of children and Muslim women who have been raped even while being covered from head to toe. They tell us not to go out late at night or visit friends or go to parties, forgetting the hundreds of girls and women who were raped in their homes, on the way to post office, in their churches, schools, and other supposedly safe places. They beat about the bush when it comes to calling out rapists but are quick to say “boys get raped too” and “false accusations exist too” just to silence our voices. 

Answer me this, howbeit that every woman knows another woman/girl who has been raped but no man knows a rapist? 

They say they are tired of hearing about rape but do they stop to think that WE ARE TIRED OF BEING RAPED. We are tired of being triggered when a new case hits the internet, transporting us back to that day, tired of being on guard at all times, tired of hearing the same rubbish each time we talk about our pain. 

We are tired of being told that “we asked for it” when we didn’t, tired of having our childhood innocence stripped away from us, tired of blaming ourselves for the actions of rapists. 

IT WASN’T OUR FAULT, IT WAS NEVER YOUR FAULT

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Keep speaking your truth, do not allow the negativity drown out your voice. Share your thoughts in the comment box below.

Love and light beautifuls

With Love,
Maraoma