"I was eight when my mother told me: 'Take your top off. Do you have breasts already? When a girl your age has breasts, men look at her.' I didn't understand what she was doing. Every day, sometimes three times a day, she would flatten my chest with a hot spatula. She would just say: 'It's for your own good.' It was a nightmare. I noticed that the more she massaged me, the more my breasts grew. When she realized it wasn't working, she used a rock. That was hell. It felt like my body was on fire. A guidance counselor, who I told everything, tried to talk to my mom and get her to stop. I was happy because I thought it was over. But she did it again—with heated fruit pits this time. She massaged and massaged. I packed my stuff and moved to my aunt's immediately. Sometimes, I try to understand my mother's actions. It hurts so much when I look at myself in the mirror." –Doriane, 19 years old.