I Got Breasts When I was 11.

CW (content warning): Personal post about a sexual/bodily violation I experienced as a child at the hands of other children. I’m writing/sharing partially for my own edification–for my own healing journey–and partially because I recognize myself as one of too many who have experienced such. You are not alone.

Thank you to the friend who helped me find the words.

I’m not sure how to mark it all down


I can’t remember for sure who all was there

I know where
And I know when
I can remember—

the carpet
the hands
the feeling of being held down
by too many
by boys
both younger and older than me


at least 4, maybe more
because I’m not sure if my brother was there?
or any of the family friends?
I know at least 3 for sure
and a fourth face swims into focus late, with ‘compassion’
for them to stop
because I’m struggling
because they’ve tackled me, pinned me, are sitting on limbs, and I’m furious
and they’re trying to literally rip my clothes off, and I’m trying to hold them together


we live in a backward town
that doesn’t teach sex ed
and is fundie
and doesn’t teach respect for all people, only male people
and I’ve developed breasts
and so
they want to see
and touch
and see more, and touch more

and when they finally let me up
I’m let know
that it’s only by their benevolence

only by their good will

that they don’t satisfy more of their curiosity
and if I tell
there will be more where that came from


I don’t
I hide


I can’t wear that ripped shirt again
I have to wear those jeans, because we’re poor, and we can’t afford more, but
I try not to remember

I got breasts when I was 11.


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