The story of the treatment of women down through the ages is not a noble history. It has noble moments in it, to be sure, but taken as a whole women have endured what seems to be a special hatred ever since we left Eden. . . . up until about seventy years ago, little girls born in China who were not left by the side of the road to die often had their feet bound to keep them small . . . It was common practice for a Jewish man to add to his morning prayers, “Thank you, God, for not making me a Gentile, a woman or a slave.” . . . In Hinduism, a woman has less value than a cow. . . . In Islam, a woman requires three men to verify her story in court in order for her testimony to be valid. Her testimony, her worth, is one third a man’s. . . . The story goes well beyond the denial of education and legal rights. Clitoridectomy is the removal, or circumcision, of the clitoris. A painful, horrible practice, female genital mutilation continues today and is performed on girls when they reach about five years old. . . . Sexual violence against women is rampant throughout the world. It is also rampant against little girls.
– Captivating. John and Stasi Eldredge.
– Captivating. John and Stasi Eldredge.
I am sitting in a matatu with a beautiful 15yr old girl next to me. She is holding my hand. She is nervous. I can see it in her eyes. I look out the window. We are silent. My mind wanders. . . .
When I was 15 years old, a freshman in high school what were my insecurities, fears, and worries?
None of great significance come to mind.
For the most part I was happy.
I was going to play varsity basketball that year.
I had good friends and a loving supportive family.
None of my close relatives had passed away at that point. At that time I had suffered no real loss.
I was worried kids at school would make fun of me for still riding the bus.
I worried over what my homecoming dress was going to look like
or whether my parents were going to buy me my first cell phone; after all, many of my friends had cell phones.
I remember ducking behind my saxaphone at football games,
fearful that upper classman would think I am a “dork”. . . .
None of great significance come to mind.
For the most part I was happy.
I was going to play varsity basketball that year.
I had good friends and a loving supportive family.
None of my close relatives had passed away at that point. At that time I had suffered no real loss.
I was worried kids at school would make fun of me for still riding the bus.
I worried over what my homecoming dress was going to look like
or whether my parents were going to buy me my first cell phone; after all, many of my friends had cell phones.
I remember ducking behind my saxaphone at football games,
fearful that upper classman would think I am a “dork”. . . .
But now I am sitting in a matatu. I am holding the hand of a frightened 15 yr old girl. We are going to the hospital. I know her mind is wandering as she looks out the other window. I can only imagine . . .
This is my father’s fault. He raped me at age 7. Mother says he has AIDS.
She asked me why I did this, as if I wanted to sleep with my father.
What if I test positive? What if I have AIDS? How will I tell my parents?
How will I be able to face my father again? . . . live under the same roof as him?
Will I be able to get married? Will anyone want me if I have AIDS? Am I unloveable?
What will I tell my friends?
What will I tell my friends?
Joiseca is just one of many girls I have talked to this week that has suffered the horrible tragedy of father/daughter rape, but there are so many more. The weight of the plight of Kenyan girls is too overwhelming. My eyes well up with tears. Pull it together Kristen! You can’t cry here! You have to be strong for this little one.
The following are the words and questions of other girls I have met since being in Africa . . . .
– My grandfather pays my school fees. When I go home on school holidays he sends everyone out of the house so we are alone. Then he rapes me. He says it is his right. He says he will stop paying my school fees if I resist. He is rich and powerful man in Migori. I can’t trust anyone to help me. He will talk to them and bribe them.
– I was raped at age 13 and became pregnant. My parents tried to make me get an abortion but I refused. I said the baby was innocent. I am lucky. My parents care for the child while I am at school. Most girls are not so lucky, but still, I fear that when my parents look on her, they do not look on her with love because of how she was brought into the world.
– I am seven years old. I care for my baby brother because my father is dead and my mother is away at work all day. I carry him on my back. I do not go to school. I do not want to carry this baby on my back. I want to go to school. The baby begins to cry as the little girl is holding my hand, she can’t pasify him and then she begins to cry too. I can see the weight of being a “little mama”, as they are called, is wearing on her. There are so many like her here.
– What do I do if my parents try to force me to have FGM? How do I resist? I fear for my life.
– I was raped by my father when I was 13. How do I make the nightmares stop? When I try to study, all I can see is the horrible thing that was done to me. I can’t get it out of my mind.
– standing in front of a primary class, about 100 girls, ages 7-14; the teachers point out which girls have already undergone FGM.
I know there are so many more girls that I do not know about because in Kenya it is taboo for girls to talk about the things that have been done to them.
Pray for God’s precious baby girls in Kenya.
God has sent me on a mission.
I have some great news for you.
God has sent me to restore and release something.
And that something is you.
I am here to give you back your heart and set you free.
I am furious at the Enemy who did this to you, and I will fight against him.
Let me comfort you.
For, dear one, I will bestow beauty upon you where you have only known devastation.
Joy, in the places of your deep sorrow.
And I will robe your heart in thankful praise in exchange for your resignation and despair.
–Revised version of Isaiah 61:1-3 as recorded in Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge.
I am here to give you back your heart and set you free.
I am furious at the Enemy who did this to you, and I will fight against him.
Let me comfort you.
For, dear one, I will bestow beauty upon you where you have only known devastation.
Joy, in the places of your deep sorrow.
And I will robe your heart in thankful praise in exchange for your resignation and despair.
–Revised version of Isaiah 61:1-3 as recorded in Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge.
