A Survivor's Series

Rape and Sexual Abuse

Child Sexual Abuse:

Ines- Agnes, Inez, Greek – chaste

My early years were very difficult. When I reached the age of 21 my only desire was to leave my island in the sun and find freedom far far away. I was a pretty good student. Despite everything, I did well in school. I knew that I could survive almost anywhere. On my first visit to Canada, I worked as a Nanny and housekeeper. I went to school part time to increase my knowledge and to work towards a profession. Eventually, I returned to my island home, but not for long. I applied to immigration and when my status papers were approved, I returned to Canada permanently.

I rented a small basement apartment but it was lonely. I sent for my sister to join me and keep me company. I always had trouble making friends. Before Canada, my life had been very lonely. People looked at me and saw nothing. They knew nothing of who I was. They felt I was aloof. You get that way when you have to keep secrets. I never told anyone my secrets. I was afraid all the time and ashamed so I kept to myself but I was ambitious.

My sister, some cousins and I lived together and did everything together. We went to parties and had fun but always together. I never dated alone. We were always in a group going out. In 1994, around Easter time, an older family friend came around and suggested that he would take us all out for the evening to a dance. I never really wanted to go that evening because it seemed late, but I agreed in the end. Malcolm, (not his real name) went home to change and returned to pick us up. He was older and had been around us for quite a while. He was always friendly and kind. He felt like an older brother watching out for us because we knew him from the Islands.

We set out for the party and during the drive he began to tease me and say that I never went anywhere alone. He asked me why don’t I let the others go on and he would take me to another party. It was all friendly banter. I declined but he persisted and eventually I gave in, feeling silly for being afraid. I was an adult and he was well known to me. For a short time after he dropped off the others, we did go to another party but I never felt comfortable. Soon after getting to the other party, I asked to be taken back to meet with my sister and cousins. We had some uncomfortable moments. He treated me as if I were some baby girl being silly but eventually he agreed to take me back. I could see that he was unwilling to leave the party.

It wasn’t long into the drive back that I realized that he was not taking me directly to where we were supposed to go. I questioned him but he said ‘don’t worry’.

Within a few minutes he made it clear that we were not going there at all!

I demanded to be let off and was met with a blow to the head. It wasn’t long before he put the child proof lock on the door. I knew what that was. I had worked as a nanny on my first trip to Canada. My door would not open and he wasn’t letting me out.

He drove me back to his apartment and went into the underground. He continued to hit me at will and abuse me verbally. He ignored my demands to be let go and just continued as if what I wanted didn’t matter.

His tactics changed when he finished parking the car. He seemed to give in and agree to let me go. I didn’t want him to drive me anywhere and said I would take a taxi. On that pretext he got me to go to his apartment to use the phone. I refused to go inside, asking him to pass me the phone at the door to make the call. I had money and could get myself home if only I could get out of the apartment building and away from him.

Before I could think, he grabbed me and pulled me into the apartment intent on doing his worst. I heard a barrage of words that made me sick. He hit me and did everything to try and get me to have sex with him. In desperation and a kind of madness I ran out to the balcony with every intention of jumping over the rail. I had picked up a kitchen knife to stab him at some point and he easily overpowered me. I knew that I would rather die than be forced to have sex with him. Once the knife was gone, I had no way to protect myself. Somehow he knew that I was defenseless, but he could also see that I truly meant to jump. He calmed himself down enough to drag me back to the parking garage where he said he would take me home. I was scared and powerless but I believed his false promise to take me home.

Once in the car he hit me again and again until I felt numbed. Then he opened the door and pulled me out. Grabbing my hair he forced me to the trunk of the car. He took out a baseball bat and pushed my head into the trunk. I felt that death was one blow away.

The madness and anger I felt in the apartment was replaced by a calm anguish. Two thoughts ran through my mind. Oprah said don’t struggle. Don’t struggle. My mother, my poor mother was so beaten and abused by my father. I promised to help her and if I die I cannot.

I turned to look at this user of women, this abuser, this rapist. What I saw in him was a man out of control with lust and evil in his heart. He was not anyone I knew in that moment but I begged for him to spare my life. ‘Do anything. Just don’t kill me!’

He was animal then taking me by the car, in corners of the garage, in stairwells. It was the middle of the night and there was nothing to stop him. He bent me over with one hand behind my back and the bat ever present to beat me if I struggled or did anything wrong. How much and how long I endured I don’t know.

Sometime later, the sound of the garage door opening caused him to pause in his activity. He shielded me in a corner of the stairwell. That pause changed him. I could feel his anger leaving and knew that I was free.

This was not the freedom I had wanted when I came to Canada. This was more of what I had endured all those years growing up. From the time I was about seven years until I was a teenager my life was spent being abused first by my Grandfather then my Father. I got no favours as a child for the abuse. My grandfather took away the peace and serenity of those lazy Caribbean Sunday afternoons when I should have been playful and carefree. Later my Father robbed me of my puberty and the joys of budding woman hood. I was a woman before I had a chance to be a child. In all of that my mother, a victim herself, never had the courage nor the strength to save me. I attended school and satisfied the needs of my Father when and where he pleased. I had no time for friends, or social life.

My Father was everything and nothing and I had no protector.

Malcolm didn’t know this. He picked me out of my sister and cousins because he thought I was a virgin. He had never seen me with a man. Even if he thought I was a lesbian, all the more reason to ‘teach me’ to take a man. His parting words to me were that I should not mention his name in connection with this. He would call me later to see how I was, as if we had been friends out on a date.

I walked into my apartment as the sun was rising. My sister was waiting for me. I had never stayed out that late or gone anywhere without them. My sister came towards me questioning me. She looked at me in the light and fainted.

No one has ever known about the events in my early childhood that shaped my life. I have never spoken about them until now. I know that people had a view of me as a perfect person, never experiencing bad things. Now something happened publicly that could help to show the world that I am just somebody who has suffered.

Inez was the prime witness. She endured the numerous questions that were asked of her including a vivid display of her underwear in court. She noted that it felt like being a victim again. Her abuser was found guilty and sent to prison where he will serve his sentence before being deported.

We are not born survivors. We live by the grace of the Divine power that holds us all. When we are tested some gather strength and grow and become more powerful. Inez is one of those. We wish her all courage as she continues on her healing journey.