SIXTEEN | BLOGTOBER #2

I’m sixteen years old and it may come as a surprise

that at this age I feel rather sexualised

by boys of fourteen to men of forty,

who’s eyes like to wander to places that I once thought were mine.

 

Some men look at me like I’m a piece of meat,

or nothing more than a dog that should fall at their feet when they need me.

And if the dirty stares aren’t enough,

them shouting out of their cars as I walk past

would make any girl feel like she can never be anything more than a slut.

 

“Hey sexy”

“Where are you going?”

and “nice ass”

are just a few of the remarks I hear on a daily basis

despite me not inviting these things to be shouted at me as I walk past.

 

Are they expecting a reply?

For me to smile and wink as I go by?

Am I supposed to be flattered that a guy sees me as worth nothing more than someone with

good ‘blowjob eyes’?

 

I was just twelve years old the first time I got catcalled.

As my heart started to race

I felt the urge to cry,

the urge to quicken my pace.

Getting away was the only thing on my mind,

not responding to a man who so courteously decided to remind me

that my body was nothing more than a pit stop

for wandering eyes.

 

At thirteen years old I started to stuff my bra;

I hadn’t hit puberty

and was left feeling far different from other girls my age.

I didn’t feel ‘woman’ enough,

developed enough,

my body was not appealing enough.

At such a young age I was made to feel like I was defined by my curves

(or lack of them).

I was not worthy enough

if I didn’t have big boobs or a butt,

and the only way to attract a man was to flaunt my body,

remembering to keep my mouth shut.

 

When I was fourteen years old

a boy told me I “looked like I’d given a blowjob”.

I didn’t realise that the way I did my makeup and my hair was enough to determine my life in the bedroom;

I didn’t realise that my face alone could show

(inaccurately)

what I did with my partners at home.

He told me during a class at school.

It made me realise that no place is safe

and I will always be sexualised

because a girl seems to be nothing more than a ‘fun time’ for a man.

 

Little did I know that the worst was yet to come.

At just fifteen years old I was left feeling numb as a man,

wait

he doesn’t even deserve to be called a man,

correction: boy,

pried his way into my underwear.

All I could do was lie there and stare at the ceiling

as he brought nothing but pain to my un-consenting body.

He forced me to touch him too,

in an area so new to my innocent self.

My body no longer felt like a temple;

I was unclean.

impure,

and left feeling unsure of whether it really belonged to me to begin with.

 

Now I’m sixteen years old and it shouldn’t come as a surprise

that at this age I feel rather sexualised

because a girl,

despite her age,

is always seen as a prize for a man.

 

We are taught that a man’s pleasure is worth more than our own,

and learn that no doesn’t mean no

but in fact it means yes.

If I push you away I’m just playing hard to get.

Don’t forget that if I scream

it just means

i’m enjoying it.

If I tell you I don’t want it, I just need some persuading

because when it comes to my body,

apparently

it doesn’t really matter what I want in the first place anyway.

5 thoughts on “SIXTEEN | BLOGTOBER #2

  1. Jasmine, this is incredible. The way you verbalise your feelings and experiences really hits home how hard it must be for not only yourself but every young girl and woman who has to deal with such things. I feel so sad that at such a young age you’ve already been through so much but I’m so glad that you feel able to write about it all. Especially in the way that you have. Keep going!

    Liked by 1 person

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