(Save the 1) I want a world where violence does not exist! I want a world where respect exists, and equality and love!
My name is Yazmin, I am Mexican, and I am a victim of child molestation who became pregnant by rape. I would have loved to tell another story where there would be a world of harmony and where no one would know what violence is, but sadly, I will talk about my life — a miserable life in the eyes of the world, but today a life of blessing in the eyes of God.
From an early age, I suffered physical, sexual, psychological and verbal abuse at the hands of my uncle and others who surrounded me. I grew up with two small boys who belonged to my uncle because my aunt abandoned him, just as I was abandoned, and they were in his care and custody.
The sexual abuse began when I was very small. I grew up amidst constant insults and physical harm which, each time, would sink me into a terrible depression with much sadness and loneliness. I did not speak much, having been raised with only the company of the two small boys and I really did not interact with anyone else. I did not have friends nor anyone with whom I could talk, so my two best friends became those two little ones. Through them, I learned cope with the physical and internal pain.
In order to not scare them or worry them, I would tell the boys that my body was so strong that the physical hits did not hurt and that they did not need to cry for me or be scared because I would protect them. The physical pain can be cured in a certain amount of time because the bruises and wounds disappear later, but the psychological wounds take more time.
I remember when they were sleeping, I would go out and cry my pain out — which was a lot; I was mad at my uncle, at God, with my own self, with life, with people and with the authorities. I thought — the same as God, they had forgotten about me. “People are blind”, I thought, or “Am I invisible to others?” I even named myself the “ghost girl.” I determined, “The day I have money, I will help all the children of the streets, (that is the name eventually called us), I will not allow them to get abused like me, I will give them a home, blanket, food, and above all, I will give them love! Lots of love!”
I would contemplate many things: But, someday will I accomplish this? I can’t even help my own self, let alone the other children! God, did you abandon me completely? Where are You now? Why do you permit all this pain and suffering? I do not understand! Life is ugly and I do not like it. Who would want to live in a world like this? You have abandoned me. I am an unhappy and miserable girl. I want to be happy and go to school and play, I behave and obey, God, I am not rude with anyone. Please tell me what I have done wrong. I ONLY WANT TO BE HAPPY!
People would only see me with pity, and the police and the authorities merely follow stupid norms which do not work and do not defend. Justice comes late and after long processes, they comply halfway where they look for an easy solution which does not cause conflict and they did not worry about me at all. I wanted a hug full of love that would make me feel special.
At the end of the questions without answers, reproaches and tears in some way relieved my pain. I would achieve sleeping a little to gain some strength and work the next day, and serve my uncle. I would sell candies in the streets with other children who would be around there. That was my daily routine so I would not arrive home empty-handed, having some money to pay my cousins and my plate of food; the days and the hours where long for me.
Some days were harder than others since my uncle would come home drugged and under the influence of alcohol with women and men and they would wake me up to serve them –forcing me to have sex with them. They would pay my uncle so he would let them do what they wanted to me and he would gladly accept the deal, before telling me that I would have to obey and be calm if I did not want to have problems. I chose to accept it and be still — like a rag doll for their pleasures. This was the easiest way, because if not, then the sudden blows would appear and I would end up in a sea of blood and pain.
One day after the constant abuses of my uncle and his friends, I got pregnant. I had a human being who was growing inside of me each day. I was really scared, honestly, and I did not know what to do with a baby or how to take care of one. I was afraid I would not be able to protect a baby in a world where so much evil exists, so I thought of abortion. I thought that I would not know how or could not give this baby the care which he or she would need and me being a “dumb and useless child,” I would fail in the attempt. I was only 14 years old at the time.
Then I thought: “If God gave me life and permitted me to be born, who am I to take away an innocent life and snatch the right to life by deciding for this baby?” They were snatching my life away by submitting and forcing me to do things which I did not want to do and without a right to anything, and here I was thinking of doing the same with this baby! IT IS NOT FAIR, I realized. A life is growing within me with a purpose and a mission, and the same as me, this baby has a right to life.
I must say that super heroes exist without a cape and they are not how stories and television programs say they are. They do not receive recognition or come out in magazines awarding their courage and effort for helping, but they are like angels with a mission, who God entrusted. With that purpose, they exist in this life.
I had the fortune of finding super heroes in my journey, in those difficult moments of my life. They were determined to help me without asking me for anything in return. Finally, my pleas were answered and God and this baby gave me the strength and the courage which I needed to move on! They never left me alone. There were three super heroes in my path who would communicate with me, figuring out ways on how to free me from the “bad man” since in the distance it was very complicated — not so easy to help me.
Even with all of these obstacles, they would dedicate themselves to help me and hear me with such calm and attention that no one had ever given me. They felt the pain I went through and would suffer with me. For the first time ever, I learned to trust people and I discovered that not all people are bad.
I began for the first time in my life rebelling against my uncle and I would demand my rights and the rights for the two boys, as well as the rights of my baby, even though he was not born yet. I knew I had to leave before the baby was born and I tried to escape to begin to live a life fully and happy, far from that environment which would do us so much harm.
My uncle was engaged in drugs — he would sell them and consume them. As a result, he knew many people and powerful contacts from all over, and somehow when I tried to runaway, they found me and the two boys. When I finally believed my life would change and everything would be better, he came back and he found me — the same as in a horror movie where an exit does not exist. I knew that my hopes of moving on would end and all my dreams succumbed when he captured me. I did not have an exit! I also knew that it was not going to go really well, so the fear came back and did not let me go.
My uncle, along with his friends, drugged me and beat me. When I woke up, I was in another home, alone with my cousins, tied up, without food or water. It was a solitary place, cold and ugly, making me feel very scared. I would scream, but no one would hear me, I could not even hear the noise of cars. I did not know where I was and I was very frightened.
A while later, my uncle came telling me that I was ungrateful and that if I thought that I was going to report him or do something against him, I was really wrong. He said that I was a crazy prostitute and that everything I received was because I deserved it. He warned me that I would not leave that place — that I would not ever leave him, and that if I wanted to see the two boys, then I had to obey him, sleep with more men, and meet his manly needs. He said that I was born for this and nothing more.
My cousins would go to the street, but my uncle would take them and watch them now. They were threatened and told that if they spoke with anyone, they would not see me ever again and that he would kill me because of them. Therefore, the children only dedicated themselves to selling and doing whatever he would tell them to do, fearing what he could do to me.
My uncle punished me for trying to escape — his beatings stronger every time. All of his rage was taken out on me like I was a boxing bag. He would say that my aunt left him and that no one would ever leave him again — not even my cousins.
He would beat me, rape me, and spit on me. I could not take it any longer. I was very hungry and thirsty. My whole body hurt. My hands, feet, thighs, everything completely! Once more, I was alone and disappointed, and I felt I had failed my baby. I would ask my baby forgiveness, rubbing my womb and telling him that everything would be good, asking that he would forgive me.
One day, my uncle became very drugged and drunk that upon seeing me, he started beating me. Immediately he began to hit and kick my womb. This was the most pain I could ever feel — it was inexplicable. I could not move, I started to bleed and I knew that something was not right. He left, startled as he saw the amount of blood and my physical state. I could not get up and I could not even cry. Inside me, in my mind, I would tell my baby to forgive me. I would ask my baby to please not leave me and that he should be strong, that I needed him. I could only ask God not to take him away from me and to allow him to live, but I lost my baby!
My uncle did not take long to come back with a friend of his who was a doctor. He helped me a little. I could only hear what they would talk about as if I heard them in a dream. I thought that I would die in that moment and I asked for that. I asked God to take me in that moment because I could not take anymore. I heard how they planned to get rid of me as if I was an abandoned dog. I could hear them say that if I was left in the house, then someday someone had to find me, and that they could not take me to a hospital because it would be worse for him.
They got me in the car and left me in a cold and isolated place, waiting for the worst. I already felt prepared to leave this world. I did not wish anything more than that. I yearned it with all my soul, but God’s plans were different. His plans are distinct from ours. That night, the hand of God took care of me. I cannot find another word to describe it. It was like a miracle!
I do not remember how, or what time, or who, but someone found me and helped me. The only thing I remember is waking up in a hospital, with medicine being administered. One of my super heroes was there with me. I did not know how she found out or how she came to me. She was taking care of me, she hugged me with love and told me that everything would be alright. I could not even talk. I felt sadness, pain, isolation, and at the same time joy. Well, I felt a little relieved that she was there with me, but I also felt sad and empty — it was an ocean of feelings which I could not explain.
My super hero was connected by phone with a pro-life woman in Guadalajara and three more who were aware of me, who had me included in prayer chains, talking to me and making me feel their love in between the distance — angels taking care of me, keeping a close eye on my physical, emotional, and spiritual healing. They did not know me, but were worried about me without receiving anything in return. I was really blessed!
A report against him was filed and as expected, the night that he killed my baby, he fled with the two boys, just like I thought he would. Finally, they found him and arrested him, but sadly, they released him. I suppose he moved his influences and somehow, he got away with it and was free. I never understood this and why the authorities did not defend me and did not leave him in jail where he needed to be so he would not continue to cause more harm.
Later on, I found out that he died in an automobile accident where he was found very drunk and drugged — just the way he was accustomed. I understood that God’s justice is different than man’s justice and that sometimes we do our own justice, by acting wrong. All bad in some sort returns.
If the authorities would have cared for me since I was small, I wouldn’t have suffered all of this for so long, and I would not have lost my baby.
But thanks to my super heroes, finally I was free! There was no one to abuse me or hit me. Somehow, justice had been done and the bad man in the story of my life was gone, once and for all, and would not torment me anymore.
Physically, I began to recover, I began to regain strength, and the only thing left were scars. But even then, I felt pain — not physical, but emotional. All of it was a nightmare that would not let me sleep at night. I would feel guilty for not keeping my promise of taking care of my baby. I could not forgive myself.
As time passed, I understood that I did everything in my reach, and that I could not protect my baby if I was not protected either. It was not my fault — I was only a victim along with my cousins and my baby. I was a victim of my uncle, and of the authorities. I did not provoke it, as he had convinced me. It was time to end the pain which was not allowing me move on. I had the power in my hands to continue being a victim, or to get back up like a lion and pull out the claws to continue with my life and fulfill my dreams.
No one was going to forbid it, there was no one to detain me and that is how it was. It was not easy, but it was also not impossible. The pain was inevitable, but the suffering was optional.
I decided to open my wings and begin to fly! I decided to leave the pain to the side, along with my past and begin to live. Forgiveness is the key to being happy — not for them, but for myself! The feeling of rage and remorse provokes an emotional cancer which does not let us advance, and I did not want any more of that.
The pro-life super heroes are angels who God sends in a human form to give us hope, joy, peace, and love — the love of God reflected in their lives. God talked to me through them. Now it was only up to me to move on. I was not an invisible girl anymore. It was a miracle of life — like a butterfly which opens its wings and decides to fly! This is the right of all the children and women who are sexual abuse victims.
My question is: Why do they want to cut our wings? By approving abortion laws — in cases of rape, you send us a wrong and contradictory message about life. Your way of “protecting” does not work! It is selfish to end a life to save another. You cannot kill another to live “good” because you are not even living. They say that all of us are free, and you do not give us that freedom! It is contradictory, and I cannot end a life to be free — not even to feel better.
The pain will not disappear from my life. Contrary to that, you are teaching me to kill and to feel alone and finished. Just because I was a raped woman, I should not be able to end an innocent life to be alright.
No one assures that the procedure will come out fine. Is it not two people who die in an abortion? The baby dies physically and the mother dies of sadness internally. You will only say that you were thinking that it was best for me, but you would be wrong.
Do not cut our wings! Help us fly! Do not cut the wings of the innocent beings. No one knows if one of the many aborted babies came with the mission to create a cure for cancer and we took the hope of life away. Let’s stop taking a role which does not correspond to us by taking someone else’s life. Let’s respect! We are not God, and He is the only one who should decide life and death.
Let’s be more humane towards others’ pain. We should listen with our hearts and our reason. Those men who steal our lives and our hopes need to be arrested. We need the authorities to be our societal conscience.
Your abortion agenda is killing us — it cuts our hope and continues our pain! Like my story, there are many other young girls and women who are rape victims who need to be heard — all with different stories, but with the same feeling of pain and the impotence of needing to be protected and truly heard.
My life story is still being written — thanks to my favorite super hero who asked me to write my story. I am and will be forever grateful to her!
My name is Yazmin, one more victim of sexual abuse and I am pro-life!
Editor’s Note: This article was first published at Save The 1 on December 11, 2016, and is reprinted here with permission.