Sexual Harassment and Assault
While I was never sexually assaulted during my trafficking, I still understand what it’s like to be raped.
I want to talk about my sexual assault twenty years ago because it shows how human traffickers and rapists feel about and treat their victims. It shows the reaction by society and the legal system. It shows that we survivors can overcome with a loving, understanding and supportive community beside us.
While my rapist and community were Mauritanian American Muslims, my traffickers are mainly White, American Christians as is the diverse community who supports me. Humans are the same everywhere. There is good and bad in us all. Rape is universal.
Rape has nothing to do with sex, love, passion nor hormones. It is violent and horrifying. We are conditioned to believe that it’s okay and an honest mistake when it never is. It is a violent crime whether you are beaten or coerced into it. It is whether you’re partners or total strangers. A person never wants to be raped. They weren’t asking for it. They weren’t playing games. They were saying no. They were terrified.
I was in my waiting period after my husband divorced me for the third time. While my ex husband couldn’t take me back, I couldn’t marry for three menstrual cycles to be sure that I wasn’t pregnant. The true father has to be assured and provide for the child.
I had one gentleman courting me properly as others watched on. They were making sure that it remained proper while gathering information to see if they were planning a wedding or to keep searching for my Mr Right. Even the dowry I was to receive by the lucky man was openly discussed and debated. The most offered was a beautiful white she-camel although one auntie said that I was worth an entire herd at least. I didn’t care to pay that feed and vet bill while worrying about them an ocean away but it was sweet.
Yakoub lived above me with some others in my house in Hamtramck. He was seen as interfering with the gentleman courting me but I was respectful of both. Our courtship didn’t seem promising but he was a good man. I was trying to tell him that but hadn’t yet.
I kind of liked Yakoub but I didn’t fully trust him. He had all the right answers to the questions I asked my suitor. He had known me a lot longer and was friends with my ex husband. He understood exactly what I wanted to hear so he said it. They were all lies that came crashing down one night.
He came down the back stairs under the guise of learning English during the holiest month for Muslims, Ramadan. I got out my childhood book of Christian stories and others but he had other ideas. He wanted me to teach him how to be with a woman. He wanted practical knowledge so that he could be good for his future wife. I kept declining.
I told him and others that I didn’t change my religion and become a pariah in my own country for fun. I did so with the full knowledge of the consequences of my actions. I did it for me and God. I won’t betray Him by having sex outside of marriage ever again.
He went into my bedroom and told me to join him. I refused and told him why. He said that he wasn’t going to do anything. I called him kedeb, a liar. He then uttered Wallahi. It translates as ‘and my God.’ It is the highest oath to God. If I say ‘Wallahi, I love you,’ it must be true. He kept uttering the phrase with his promise to me and God Himself while refusing to leave my bedroom.
I finally went in and sat on the bed far enough away from him. I kept telling him how stupid it was to be in there. He talked about condoms in a drawer. I brushed it off. He unwrapped one. When he made a move that looked like he intended to put it on, I stood up quickly but calmly. I turned to leave while saying how foolish he was being.
It happened so fast. He knocked me backwards; shoved me down on the bed and climbed on top of me. I tried telling him to get off as I hit his chest. When I couldn’t move him, I realized he had already gotten my outer dress up. I quickly grabbed the waistbands of my pants and underwear with both hands while trying to squirm my way free. He quickly and easily put the condom on. He pulled down the front of my pants and underwear. I just went numb as soon as he put his penis inside me. It was over quickly but felt like an eternity.
I kept trying to fool myself that it was just sex. I had sex before. It wasn’t a big deal. When he finished, he hinted that if I gave him some encouragement, he’d be ready to go again soon. He acted like I wanted it. I told him that I never wanted this to happen in the first place.
He looked confused. He insisted that I wanted it because I fought him. I told him that this was the opposite of the truth. Women fight because we are terrified. He again insisted that he was correct. It was common knowledge. He said that in Mauritania men would force themselves onto women who enjoyed it.
He never kissed me nor fondled my body. When he stood up after raping me, our clothes were still on, only slightly disheveled and wrinkled. I was wearing hijab. You could only see my hands and face before, during and after.
I explained the various kinds of rape to him including marital and date rape very thoroughly. I wanted him to understand American law very clearly, along with a bit of morality and respect. I unfortunately promised that I wouldn’t press charges nor tell the others what he did. I still haven’t.
It took me a while before I could even face God in prayer. I knew that I needed to repent and make sure that it would never happen again. It took some quiet contemplation but when I finally prayed, it felt like a massive burden was lifted. I knew that it was the right decision.
I told Yakoub that I would keep my word. I wouldn’t press charges nor talk. He was a Muslim immigrant after 9/11. I was afraid of what might happen. I knew people who were tortured in Mauritania. I also knew that my word without proof like the condom he took and far more wouldn’t be enough for even an arrest.
He informed me again that I wanted it. He told me that he had informed my ex husband of what I did. I had brought dishonor upon them both and their families. I was a bit shocked by the betrayal but it showed his true character. It simply strengthened my resolve to continue with my promise to God and have patience.
I told the man who was properly courting me that we weren’t right for each other in private. I then told everyone that I needed any suitors to be informed that I was recently raped. If any thought that this made me ineligible for marriage in their eyes, I wanted them to know up front. I made it exceedingly clear that it wasn’t the man who was courting me and that my decision to not marry him had nothing to do with my rape.
The community listened to my words, questioned me, supported me and comforted me while they observed. I refused to identify my rapist and break my promise. They understood but your emotions are hard to hide and reveal the truth. Sometimes it is slow and other times it happens in an instant.
One day a girl gushed about how cute Yakoub was. She would certainly say yes if he asked to marry her. She would even wait for him. I kept saying that she would do far better than him when the time was right. She had to finish school first. She kept debating me and insisting that he was perfect. My anger and frustration grew. My friend noticed and told the girl to go do something else.
She asked me what was wrong but I couldn’t say. I made a promise to God. I couldn’t betray it. She soothed me before mentioning an American Muslim woman who Yakoub had courted. I agreed as she spoke about her, remembering her clearly.
She was a good woman who we all liked. We thought that they would surely marry. One day she seemed angry with Yakoub and they were no longer together. When she was seen at the market, she didn’t even want to talk to us. Her behavior and attitude had changed greatly. My friend then openly wondered if he had tried something improper with her. She was devout. It would certainly explain her behavior.
I sheepishly agreed with her. I then said that he seemed the type to do that. She kept it going until I admitted to far worse than saying that he had raped me. I told her what he had said about Mauritanian women fighting men because they want it. I said that he told me that men do it constantly. I said that it was disgusting. Women don’t want to be raped. That’s why we fight.
Tears were welling up in my eyes. I never said what he did. The truth was obvious though.
She smiled, sighed and put her hand on mine. It was going to be okay. She said that the Mauritanian community will never allow him to hurt anyone again while reassuring me that he wasn’t going to be murdered and buried in the Sahara.
Nobody wants to see their loved ones be raped. It is a pain that tortures and lingers for life. It is why I have told the story of my rape to every single suitor; my traffickers; and so many others. I end by telling them the remainder of my promise to God.
I repent for allowing myself to be raped. I vow to fight with all that I have and all that I am to not have intercourse outside of marriage. I ask God that You stiffen my spine. Give me the strength to fight until death overcomes them or me so that I don’t break my promise to You. Amin.
It is why I have never been raped since. Even during the worst confusion during my trafficking, my body language and words were enough to keep me safe. Nobody wanted to try their luck. I have had some push my boundaries past the breaking point repeatedly.
Those who don’t listen to reason and persist have then received warnings by others who let them know what is appropriate and not. It is how potential rapists and abusers are stopped. Inappropriate behavior is immediately stopped before any harm is done to anyone, including the perpetrators.
I don’t just talk about abuse. I stop it humanely and immediately because
Every life matters, especially yours.
God bless Nebraska and especially Her people.
