A small, weary body: What sexual abuse means to a little girl

I was nine years old, perhaps a bit older or younger, when it began. At first, I didn't fully understand it and found it easy to bury what had happened deep inside. But I vividly remember thinking back then that the movement of his hand on my backside wasn't normal or comfortable. At the time, I dismissed my gut feeling and ignored what was happening.

Harassment wasn't a passing event in my childhood. It was pervasive, destructive, confusing, and deadly. I couldn't understand or comprehend it at the time. All I knew was the profound disgust I felt toward the words and actions of that old man. Because I was a child full of life, joy, and innocence, I remained silent and didn't speak about it. I pushed it away like all other troubling thoughts, hoping it would vanish on its own. I left it trapped in my subconscious.

In a world like ours, parents deal with harassment, if not by blaming their child, by keeping girls away from public life, limiting their playing to specific places, and preventing them from going out. It is mostly dealt by blame and remorse and, in many cases, helplessness on the part of mothers. So I decided not to talk, not only out of fear of all this, but also out of denial of what I was experiencing.

In the beginning, he started by touching my backside, and I would freeze up. I’d quickly buy what I wanted from the shop and run out. Then he started asking me to touch him in exchange for letting me take things for free. When I try to remember my reaction to this, I cannot; it's as if my mind blocked out any memories related to the incidents. Perhaps this reaction was caused by pain, or confusion. What I distinctly remember, though, is him lifting his apron and exposing himself. At that moment, I had no choice but to flee and return to my friends, many of whom I now know had been exposed to the same thing.

In a world like ours, parents deal with harassment, if not by blaming their child, by keeping girls away from public life, limiting their playing to specific places, and preventing them from going out. It is mostly dealt by blame and remorse and, in many cases, helplessness on the part of mothers. So I decided not to talk, not only out of fear of all this, but also out of denial of what I was experiencing.

I used to stand in front of the mirror, wishing I could cut my body apart, erase it, and avoid being near it. The abuse made me feel disgusted by myself. I was filled with self-blame and hatred for my body, marked by the shame I was pouring onto myself.

The terrifying thing is I now recall that more than one person sexually abused me. One of my relatives frequently molested me. As I grew up and matured, my chest began to scare me—it became a new tool for abuse. I don't know how I managed to grow up with these feelings of disgust at my chest and body—how he tainted it.

I used to stand in front of the mirror, wishing I could cut my body apart, erase it, and avoid being near it. The abuse made me feel disgusted by myself. I was filled with self-blame and hatred for my body, marked by the shame I was pouring onto myself.

I was filled with shame—from a society that pretends to be perfect and remains silent about child sexual abuse. A society that suppresses women, shaming and silencing them with a 'social duty to remain "honorable,” even as children. A duty that instills a cruel dialogue in women’s minds and violence towards themselves. It grows day by day, turning the young girl into a manipulated tool, filled with guilt, too afraid to even admit to herself what has happened.

I was filled with shame—from a society that pretends to be perfect and remains silent about child sexual abuse. A society that suppresses women, shaming and silencing them with a 'social duty to remain "honorable,” even as children. A duty that instills a cruel dialogue in women’s minds—in terms of honor and chastity– and violence towards themselves. It grows day by day, turning the young girl into a manipulated tool, filled with guilt, too afraid to even admit to herself what has happened and is happening.

I never truly grasped how my abuse and feelings of shame were capable of destroying me until I was 17—when I became truly aware of the abuse I had endured. My sense of shame only intensified with increasing conservatism in society—conservatism that discouraged women from interacting with men and encouraged us to sanctify our bodies and cover them so that "wolves" wouldn't touch them.

I never truly grasped how my abuse and feelings of shame were capable of destroying me until I was 17—when I became truly aware of the abuse I had endured. My sense of shame only intensified with increasing conservatism in society—conservatism that discouraged women from interacting with men and encouraged us to cover our bodies so that "wolves" wouldn't touch them.

I wondered for a long time: “What should I have done when it all happened? Should I have covered my body?” I used to deny these thoughts and tried to distance myself from all of them. I was drowning in feelings of shame and guilt and hoped to cleanse myself of these feelings through desperate prayer.

My long absence from this environment, and my refusal to go back to those places of abuse, gave me time to understand, forget, and rebuild. I learned more about the sexual abuse suffered by children and teenagers, and I grew to accept that my body is not a source of shame but of pride; it survived, and every survivor deserves to be proud of their endurance. I decided that the body was not sacred; in my opinion, sanctity is the source of guilt. Sanctifying a woman's body is what makes her constantly feel guilty. That is why I gradually learned how to release this idea of sanctity. I decided to love my body and stopped suppressing my desires lest I was a social deviant, or that I had accepted or caused the abuse that I experienced as a child.

My experience is certainly not unique; children in Oman are exposed to similar instances of harassment. The shopkeeper who had been harassing me also harassed other children. Sometimes parents were aware of this but remained silent—men only fearing the shame that comes with scandal, and women fearing their husbands.

My experience is certainly not unique; children in Oman are exposed to similar instances of harassment. The shopkeeper who had been harassing me also harassed other children. Sometimes parents were aware of this but remained silent—men only fearing the shame that comes with scandal, and women fearing their husbands.

Most of the women I've encountered in my life have experienced harassment during their childhood, whether by relatives or others. For instance, a close friend and her sister were harassed by a tailor, and their mother knew about it but remained silent. She did not speak up or defend them. Similar stories also came from children their age in schools or neighborhoods, as I heard from a close friend.

What I’m trying to tell all my friends who have experienced harassment is that it was not their fault. Hating our bodies only adds to the harm and abuse we endure, while the love we give our bodies helps us recognize the abuse and accept what happened with anger directed toward the abusers. This awareness encourages us to try to change the current reality, which still exposes many children to abuse, by raising societal awareness about harassment and creating a safe environment for children and women to speak up and express themselves.

Omani law imposes penalties for any acts against a child, such as rape or sexual abuse. Article 72, in conjunction with Article 56 of the Child Law, states that "anyone convicted of such acts shall be punished with imprisonment for no less than five years and no more than fifteen years, and with a fine of no less than five thousand Omani riyals and no more than ten thousand Omani riyals." Despite this, children continue to face harassment and abuse in their homes, which should represent their places of warmth, love, and comfort. So, what is the point of the law if the societal mindset remains rigid and resistant to change, and if "reputation" is considered the true measure for everything, yet is so easily tarnished in our society?

* The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author’s and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Raseef22