Finding the real me in a sea of violence

As a lesbian, hate, violence and misogyny follow me wherever I go. I became pregnant as a result of being raped by a man I believed to be a friend. I have been beaten almost to pulp because of my sexual orientation at the instigation of none other than my mother.

 

Yet the vicious circle of violence that has left such deep scars in my life began from the moment of my birth: in my family; with the uncle who raised me and with the death of my three brothers.  One was a still born. My drunken mother accidentally squashed the other to death. The third brother suffered from mental disorders after he got gang raped by monsters in a night club. He committed suicide at a tender age.

 

At five, my mother married another man after she had broken up with my dad whom she accused of being a womaniser. I had to be taken to my uncle’s place where I lived a miserable life. My uncle used to abuse his wife. On the many occasions when my aunt almost died in front of us my uncle punished us severely for screaming. He would compel us to tell him who called the ambulance for his wife but we wouldn’t dare to tell him, since we knew exactly what he would have done.

 

At twelve, my cousin got pregnant from the guy she went out with for seven years. He denied being the father of the child, but later claimed the child after my cousin had endured the hardship of giving birth without him. I vowed then never to marry or have a relationship with a man. I said I would prefer marrying a woman: that was the start of me discovering my sexual orientation.

 

For a time, I got involved in politics. In the heat of the anti apartheid struggle, I joined the United Democratic Front (UDF) till one day the police tortured me and left me for dead in a ditch somewhere near Howick.

 

I withdrew from politics but earned a reputation as a tomboy since I liked dressing like a boy; playing boyish games like soccer with boys. Up until now there are people who ask me if I am a boy or a girl. I enjoy this power I have over them: the power of not fitting easily into anyone’s idea of who I should be. 

 

At seventeen I started dating Nonhlanhla, a woman who stole my heart with her inner beauty. Oh! She had the most amazing personality! Nobody knew about our relationship. Everybody thought we were just friends.

 

Then, out of the blue, my mother decided I should get married to a man older than my daddy: a priest whose wife had died. I ran away from home wondering how much money he had promised her because my mother has no scruples when it comes to money.

 

I went to stay with my cousin in Durban. She was married to a doctor with a friend called Theophilus to whom I became very close. Even though I loved Nonhlanhla, I could not tell anyone. For the sake of everyone around me I hung out with Theophilus. Then one fateful day that shattered my dreams he flung himself on me and raped me in just three to five minutes. I screamed and kicked but nobody came to my rescue.

 

When I threatened to lay charges against him, Theophilus apologised and asked for my forgiveness. He compelled me to take a bath threatening not to let me go if I refused to do so. I was bleeding. I wanted to take my panties that he tore and had hidden away. In those days, when no one, least of all your parents, talked about sex, rape or abuse, I had no idea that he had torn them to destroy the evidence.

 

Soon after this ordeal my cousin took me to the doctor for a pregnancy test. To my horror, I discovered I had become pregnant as a result of the rape. Theophilus wanted me to terminate the pregnancy but in those days it was not the done thing and it was illegal.

 

Theophilus tried to contain the situation by paying two cattle as “damages” to my mother. We agreed that he would pay child maintenance voluntarily. I delivered the baby: my beautiful twenty one year old daughter whom I love dearly, though I will never forgive her father for ruining my life.

 

After two years, I moved to Johannesburg and found a nanny for my daughter. I got a job as a security guard and eventually got into a relationship with Bob, a charming guy who proposed marriage to me. But I could not get sexually interested in him.

 

The relationship came to a crashing halt when I found him with another girl. I told him I would leave him peacefully with his new lover. But the next day he refused to go to work and at night he tried to strangle me, stripping me naked and tying my arms with my legs. The following morning he freed me and apologised. Even though I was two months pregnant with his child, I decided to go. My second daughter is now fourteen years old but she doesn’t know her daddy since I also do not know his whereabouts.

 

I started dating Shiela S, one of the most loving people I ever knew. We raised my children together and I owe her a lot even though we parted after she developed a drinking habit.

 

In the meanwhile, after I parted with Bob, my relationship with my mother took another turn for the worse, as he used to spoil her with money. She called the street committee and told them that I was a lesbian and she did not want anything to do with me. The street thugs almost beat me to death and I was told not to go back home.

 

I opened an assault case against them, but the courts dismissed the case supposedly for lack of evidence, despite all the scars I have to show for it. I live in a shelter, like a refugee in my own country. I am undergoing counseling.

 

I have a female lover, but since she is not ready to be open about our relationship, we have to keep it secret. While I look for whatever job I can get so that I can build a home for my children and grand children, I write poetry and create the world of my dreams with the words that flow from my pen.

 

Each day I pray for my mother, the woman who brought me into this life and yet who has added so much to my misery. I forgive her and hope that one day she, and all South Africans, will accept me for whom I am. I am Marco, a proud woman, who loves her two daughters, who loves other women, and who – despite the pain and suffering that I have endured – am finally finding the real me.