This topic is sensitive and not very well documented in the LGBTQ community. This topic needs to be addressed more often. I can say in my experience, it exists. The fear of not having an outlet with the legal system just like any other heterosexual couple is fearsome.
Walking into a safe haven with bruises on my forearms and an eye different shades of the rainbow, my heart beating faster than a set of deep based drums, my mouth is dry from the fear of being seen.... Or never heard. My words would mean nothing, from past experience, "Oh, like a girl fight?" "Your roommate did this?" "What did you say to her to make her angry?" Oh, you don't like men, maybe a man would've protected you." Those lines pierced my soul, my mind.
This safe haven gave me a bed. But the judgement still laid in their eyes. "My pain wasn't strong enough" is what their eyes told me. My rapes weren't of a true phallus thrusting into me, because fingers can't be a weapon from another woman. The kisses with bites on my lips, were from passion and not from a woman. Because in their world, women are victims and passionate.
The blows were small and swift yet strong enough to be from a man. After all, she walked, talked and fucked me like a man thug would. Her hair braided, and pressed down with a durag just like a man. Her skills in the electrical department was ferociously good. Her ability to undermine me in every aspect of my day was her power, as it was my weakness.
She was my first, in everything. Sex, living,and learning how quick it was to give up on love and foundation. I became ashamed of my own sexuality. I began to think back on my child abuse and began to think being with women; can't be natural. Because the blows to my face, showed me this is what women do to each other when they hate each other.
The emotional turmoil hit me at every turn. I was afraid for my life. I had no outlet, no friend who wasn't straight to turn to. I was alone. I got away after four years. By then I was 22 and hated myself and all women who looked like her. I wanted to try the straight life and steer from myself and anything that was toxic. I began to judge my life and said, "this is the way we are supposed to be. With a man." And that is what I did. But guess what?
Men do it too. And I went through the cycle again. Only this time areal phallus was involved.
Walking into a safe haven with bruises on my forearms and an eye different shades of the rainbow, my heart beating faster than a set of deep based drums, my mouth is dry from the fear of being seen.... Or never heard. My words would mean nothing, from past experience, "Oh, like a girl fight?" "Your roommate did this?" "What did you say to her to make her angry?" Oh, you don't like men, maybe a man would've protected you." Those lines pierced my soul, my mind.
This safe haven gave me a bed. But the judgement still laid in their eyes. "My pain wasn't strong enough" is what their eyes told me. My rapes weren't of a true phallus thrusting into me, because fingers can't be a weapon from another woman. The kisses with bites on my lips, were from passion and not from a woman. Because in their world, women are victims and passionate.
The blows were small and swift yet strong enough to be from a man. After all, she walked, talked and fucked me like a man thug would. Her hair braided, and pressed down with a durag just like a man. Her skills in the electrical department was ferociously good. Her ability to undermine me in every aspect of my day was her power, as it was my weakness.
She was my first, in everything. Sex, living,and learning how quick it was to give up on love and foundation. I became ashamed of my own sexuality. I began to think back on my child abuse and began to think being with women; can't be natural. Because the blows to my face, showed me this is what women do to each other when they hate each other.
The emotional turmoil hit me at every turn. I was afraid for my life. I had no outlet, no friend who wasn't straight to turn to. I was alone. I got away after four years. By then I was 22 and hated myself and all women who looked like her. I wanted to try the straight life and steer from myself and anything that was toxic. I began to judge my life and said, "this is the way we are supposed to be. With a man." And that is what I did. But guess what?
Men do it too. And I went through the cycle again. Only this time areal phallus was involved.
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