[This is a snippet from the article I wrote for Clitbait.]
Trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault
Disclaimer: featured image via colorsofhoney.
Growing up in a Bangladeshi household, which was strict not only in its cultural traditions but also in adherence to religious commandments, sex was always seen as something to be ashamed of – a milestone to only be broached through marriage. I’d always been told that sex only came after marriage, otherwise, well, I’d be condemned to hellfire. It was ingrained in me. What I’d come to learn, though, was the ways in which sex could be used as a coping mechanism, an escape from my thoughts or a comfort when I wanted validation.
From the time I was nine years old, I was sexually assaulted for two years by my cousin.
It was a horrific thing. And it definitely affected me more than I ever realised.
(. . .)
I didn’t think I was ever enough as a person, or anything more than damaged goods.
What did I have to offer, besides my body?