I Was the Victim of Rape (The Truth About Female Pedophilia)

The word rape coming out of the mouth of a man sounds strange. I mean, what man in his right mind wants to come out and say that he was sexually violated, stripped of his innocence, and made to feel filthy? What man wants to come out and say that he felt guilty when it felt good while it was happening?

As men, we are taught that we should always be in control of our emotions; otherwise we would be considered punks. When I got raped, I didn’t even realize what was happening to me because the word seduction didn’t sound violent or life threatening. It sounded alluring to my teenage ears and caused something to stir in me that I had never felt before. Maybe it was the way the words slid off her thick, sensuous lips, or maybe it was the warmth of her breath tickling my naive ears as she whispered, “I bet I can seduce you.” I didn’t know what “seduce” meant, but when she pulled my hand toward her soft breasts, I was convinced that it was going to feel real good.

Moments later, as I lay atop of her, I knew I would forever be changed. From that experience, my body became addicted to the warm pleasure she provided like a heroin addict. It didn’t matter that we were on a soiled mattress in the back room of a crack house or that she was an adult and I was a child. All I knew was that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven and that I would forever be on an endless quest to be seduced as often as possible. Sadly I didn’t realize I had been lured into the depths of sexual and emotional hell.

After our first sexual encounter I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Just one look at her sent a surge of excitement through my teenage body. I craved her even in those moments I knew I couldn’t have her. While my heart opened like a wild flower her ears clogged with cement at my incessant pleas to be seduced by her over and over. After several days of pleading she yielded to my request and I was once again able to experience the sweet joys of being inside her-in reality she was inside of me. She had heartlessly embedded herself deep in my adolescent mind.

After the first rape, the floodgates opened up and I became a predator of my own violation. I sought out older women, charmed them, and then lured them into taking advantage of my virility and youth. They knew the game, and they played it well. They allowed me to take control and dominate as if I were a man capable of handling the complexities of women.

Just when I thought I had the game mastered, the winds of change blew me back into reality. Women began to stalk me like lionesses on the hunt for prey. They wanted what I could provide for them monetarily or through drugs; they never wanted me for me. I was a tool, a mere pawn in a seductive and twisted game of chess. As long as I had drugs and money, I could have as many adult women as I desired. I slowly learned to set aside my emotions and to objectify women. If they could use me, hurt my feelings, and disregard my heart, then it was only right that I do the same. It was this childlike logic that allowed me to disconnect my emotions and view women as nothing more than sex objects to be acquired.

Years later when the novelty of reckless, empty, meaningless sex wore off, I realized how much I had been violated. My innocence had been stripped from me, leaving in its wake an emotional wreck. For nearly two decades, I was incapable of loving or accepting love. I was distrustful of women and their motives, and resented those who preyed on my vulnerabilities. Yes, I enjoyed the sex, however it came with a steep price – my sexual and emotional health. I became very promiscuous, sexually reckless, and emotionally dysfunctional. I lost years that can never be replaced and was denied the pleasures and innocence of teenage love.

No teenager should ever have dominion over an adult, especially sexual dominion. Sadly, these early sexual experiences, which occurred during the height of the crack epidemic, were not unique to me. Unhealthy sexual encounters between young drug dealers and the crack-addicted women who would do anything for a hit of Crack are common, and in my opinion, are largely responsible for the misogyny that manifested in the music of that era.

Prior to crack entering our community, it was nearly unheard of for women to be called bitches and hoes. We were taught to respect and honor the women in our community; however, once crack took over and women began using their vaginas as bartering tools, the respect diminished. Think about this: how can you expect a fourteen year old to respect women when grown women aggressively pursue him for sex in exchange for money, drugs or prestige?

Many of the men I grew up with have similar experiences, but very few call it rape. In our adolescent minds, we just thought we were being birthed into adulthood. However, as a man and a father, I now realize that I was the victim of countless rapes by adult women with selfish agendas. Yes, female pedophilia exists, and it has caused a great deal of harm to young men. I know it is hard to look at women as sexual predators or to imagine them doing harm. In fact, I had so much fun sexually that it took a serious growth spurt emotionally for me to realize the extent of the damage those encounters caused. Today I am proud to say I am a survivor of rape, and now have a healthy emotional outlook on women.

Learn more about my story at www.shakasenghor.com