By Anonymous
It has only been a little over 2 weeks since I learned what female genital mutilation (FGM) was.
It has only been a little over 2 weeks since I learned that I’ve been through FGM.
I am 24 years old, involved in a community that practices FGM, yet is so secretive about its practices. I have gone 24 years of my life unaware of the severity of this issue, among my own community and many others around the world. When I found out, my mind went into pure chaos. I was told about the FGM by a friend who was talking about the issue freely to me, when I stopped her mid-explanation, saying I had no idea what she was even talking about. Shocked, she explained the true purpose behind the practice, and how so many of her close friends had undergone this procedure. The memories came flooding back. I started making connections to my confusion when I was only 7 years old, secretly being told by my mother we have to do this for the safety of my health, but I can never talk about it again. As a child, fully in the protection and care of my parents, I agreed and suppressed the experience because it was what I was told to do. Until this moment was when I realized this confusing, painful and suppressed experience was FGM.
It has only been a few weeks since the experience, and I threw myself into research to better help me cope. I needed to know everything I could about this. I confronted my parents about the experience and just left with more questions and pain. I think why it drove me so crazy is because of my background. I have been a part of countless movements and organizations supporting survivors and victims of sexual violence for over 6 years now. I have organized events, workshops, table events, and worked hundreds of hours as a medical advocate and hotline volunteer for these organizations to this day. I’ve helped other survivors through their own experiences. It took me years to grow to fully accept my identity as a young woman who was part of this community. To build my love and appreciation for who I am as a minority in a white majority world. And for the past few weeks, it feels as if all of this was wiped away by one knick. All the progress I made to overcome the worst of the worst, constant discrimination because of my minority identity and my own sexual assault in college, all feels faded. I feel lost. How could I have missed this? How did my parents, knowing very well everything that I have been through, not tell me?
I wish I had a happy ending to share from this experience, but my story is not over. We should normalize letting the pain sit with us for some time. Right now is my time. I have moments of raging anger, crazy anxiety, unbeatable sadness, high drive, constant compassion, and endless envy. I want to overcome this and not fall into the hole that those previous experiences had put me in. I pushed myself to seek out help and put myself in the place of the many survivors I have previously helped. What would I do to help them? I should treat myself the same way as I would them, right? I wish I could say it was that easy. And I do think one day it will get easier. Right now, there are more bad days than good, but if anything my past experiences have given me endless tools to do something I didn’t before: to fight back. I know it will take time to beat the chaos and to really process this. And I’m taking the steps to get there, something I can’t say I did quickly before this. I have an amazing support system, friends with similar experiences, an amazing therapist, and involvement in organizations that have given me the tools to fight back. Sahiyo has really provided a great community to let me know I am not alone in this experience.
This time I’m letting the chaos drive me, not beat me.