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  • Kiara Ruth

Sharing my Story of Sexual Abuse: Part 1

It was said that I had my first experience with sex at the age of two. I had somehow been giving something** that could only be contracted through sex. I sat with that; I took time to think it through; had my life already become so dark. Although the STD wasn’t permanent and easily cured, and my mom took the necessary steps for me to be safe. That story somehow shaped what would be the rest of my life.

When I was 6 years old, I moved to what seemed like across the world, Minneapolis, Minnesota. My aunt had agreed to “keep me” while my mother was getting on her feet. She was a successful woman; married by common law and lived in a suburb of Minnesota…...thinking back on it, it was the most practical idea. She already had two children around my age and one more wouldn’t hurt.

I arrived at my Pocahontas filled bedroom shared with my cousin, my bed was closest to the window, I was happy. I started school, started to make friends and became quickly acclimated to my new environment. My aunt started sending us to an after-school program that was owned and operated by an extended family member. My memories there were eventful but consistent; it was the first time I had felt any consistency in my life, things were great until they weren’t.

My first memory of sex abuse was at the age of 6. I was slated to be the “helper of the day” for the after-school program I was apart of. I was extremely excited about the position and eager to get to work. The program director asked me to go to the basement where the deep freezer was to get ice cream sandwiches for all the kids, I did. While down there I heard a familiar voice say, “do you need any help?” I replied “no!” but in the bubbliest 6-year-old way (I was also thinking, I am a big girl! I got this). As I was on my way back upstairs, he stopped me and said “come here” so I did; after all, he was the son of the program director, a teenager and way cooler than me (so, I thought). Our conversation went a little like this:

Him: “Do you know what that is” (pointing at my vagina)

Me: “Yes! That’s my private area!”

Him: “Can I touch it?”

I was very puzzled, and I didn’t respond, he proceeded to pull me close, pull my clothes down and touch me in a way I had never experienced. He told me to never tell anyone what happened, and I didn’t well at least at that moment. Sadly, I walked back upstairs with the ice cream sandwiches and I didn’t say a word.

The sexual abuse in the after-school program became a frequent thing. Because we were really close to the family; we would spend nights there, go to birthday parties there and hang out often. My body was a playground for my abuser. During our frequent sleepover, he would come and wake me up in the middle of the night to sexually abuse me. He would force me to touch him, perform oral sex on him and if I did a "good enough" job he would reward me by ejaculating all over me.

With the abuse being so frequent, I had become accustomed to it. It was like my 6 now 7-year-old self was in a relationship with a teenager. I was beyond scared around him. His smell cut me like a knife and his voice made my stomach quiver. When I got the news that my mom was finally on her feet and I could go home; that might have been the best day of my life, but I somehow felt bad for him. I wouldn't be there to fulfill his sick fantasizes. How would he feel about me leaving and most of all if I told someone would he kill me?

I moved back to Little Rock, Arkansas and I only shared my sexual abuse with one person; she was the daughter of one of my mom's friends. I begged her not to tell anyone and she didn't. It wouldn't be until the 5th grade that I shared my sexual abuse again but this time it would be to Child Protective Services.

**At 2 years old, I was given gonorrhea. Gonorrhea is a curable STD through antibiotics.

Thank you so much for reading Part 1 of my story of sexual abuse. April is sexual abuse awareness month. #SAAM. If you know someone that is experiencing sexual abuse encourage them to speak up about it. If they have experienced sexual abuse encourage them to seek help. There is a therapist that specializes in trauma. If you have experienced sexual abuse; I see you, I hear you and you are not alone.




May 06, 2020

I love you dearly! Reading your story is honestly one of the hardest things I have ever done. You are a true rose that grew from the concrete. A testament of beauty, humbleness, and strength wrapped in flesh. You are not sharing a story, your sharing a testimony of what God can do and heal.


Maya G
Maya G
Apr 07, 2020

I wish you an abundance of mental, physical and spiritual health/wealth. I too was sexually abused and am still picking up the pieces. God bless you.


Apr 03, 2020

Heartbreaking. Sending so much love!


Apr 02, 2020

Wow! Thank you for being brave and sharing your story! Keep sharing your journey, you are a much needed light in this world.


Apr 01, 2020

Wow. Thank you so much for sharing! I truly appreciate you and your bravery.

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