My name is Karmilla Pillay-Siokos. I was date raped in 1992. For a while I didn't know how to deal with that, at all, so I tried as far as possible to pretend it never happened. Then I worked at healing sporadically for another few years. Slutwalk Johannesburg 2011 inspired me to make a conscious effort to face my fear of looking at my raw emotions. It was not easy. I never know what is a result of the rape experience. There is always the question of whether the self doubt would have been as intense if it hadn't happened. Maybe it's a chicken/egg situation. Maybe I had always known that I wasn't good enough. Maybe the rape was just me getting what I deserved. It took a long time to really process the fact that I wasn't to blame for that specific instance of being violated. Every time I speak out I feel stronger. I gain more confidence. The support and the reactions of people who share my pain reinforce the rightness of this new found perspective. So I get up and I do it all over again.
I speak from a place of healing and strength. I touch lives and inspire people. I do radio and TV interviews. I speak at huge corporations. I am the poster child for what a survivor should look like. Mostly that is who I am. Mostly. There is also still the 3am silent weeping angst that lies dormant, sometimes for years even. Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, in what should be my strongest, proudest moment the self doubt hits me like a sledgehammer. I pour my pain into words. Endless words in random scribbles until the tears stop. The next morning(or rather later that same morning) I wake up and try to dredge some semblance of meaning out of the rambling. Now I have an audience. It feels like there is some purpose to the pain. The words can reach somebody else. My sharing can help somebody feel less alone. This time I didn't edit it to put a positive spin on it. I kept it real. This is for every person out there who has ever believed they're not enough and therefore on whatever level deserve to be treated like less. You are not alone. The next time you look at me and wish we were more alike, know that we are alike, on a much deeper level than you could ever believe. I dedicate this poem to #slutwalkjohannesburg
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KarmillaWhy can’t I be pretty and a feminist and a mother and a healer and an activist and an educator and a warrior? Archives
March 2024
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