i get to hear my family talk about
how the man who tried to rape me
as a child and taunted me about it in
college is a good man,
even got scolded for snorting
derisively;
maybe less good men and more
holding men accountable—
i was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of
matching leopard print pants,
socks and tennis shoes;
and i was twelve
years old—
no child asks for this,
and i kept it a secret for so long
that it became my secret shame;
felt i had no safe haven
told my friends but never my parents
because for the longest time i blamed myself—
wish i could’ve been brave enough to be honest
i was just scared, i didn’t know what to do;
but don’t you dare tell me he’s a good man unless
“good man” is just a code for rapist or terrible person.
Photo by Kevin Jesus Horacio
