ุฃุนูุฐ ุจุงููู ู
ู ุงูุดูุทุงู ุงูุฑุฌูู
I seek Allah’s protection/refuge/shelter from Shaitaan, the Accursed one.
O ye who believe! stand out firmly for Allah, as witnesses to fair dealing, and let not the hatred of others to you make you swerve to wrong and depart from justice. Be just: that is next to piety: and fear Allah. For Allah is well-acquainted with all that ye do. [Quran 5:8]
O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah , even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives. Whether one is rich or poor, Allah is more worthy of both. So follow not [personal] inclination, lest you not be just. And if you distort [your testimony] or refuse [to give it], then indeed Allah is ever, with what you do, Acquainted. [Quran 4:135]
To my friends and family who have openly supported me,
Thank you so much for showing such humility and genuine support. I am so proud of you all and I am proud to call you all my friends and family. For those of you who have messaged me privately and shown your support openly as well, even if it meant testifying against their own kin, I commend you for your bravery and for not letting politics get ahead of humanity. I also want to let those of you who have shared your own stories with me in private to know that I stand by you and you have all my support in the event you decide to speak out. May Allah (SWT) bless all your families and provide you all with fulfilling bliss in this world and hereafter. I am speechless with the amount of love and validation that I got from all of you.
In my last post I told you all about a dark time in my life. I've decided to merge all four cases of molestation into one large article so that I can get done with it and never have to look back at it again. It has cost me enough time and energy in my life and enough pain and sacrifice. It is safe to assume that I have not lived a normal day in my life after the very first incident. Through my first post I was able to see so many people come out of their shell and share their own stories. I never imagined that you guys would be so accepting of someone who couldn't accept herself until very recently. I have been sent countless Facebook messages, text messages, calls and survivor stories that my husband and I have been overwhelmed with the amount of support and bravery that others are willing to show. Shawn and I are grateful for all the kind words that you all are saying for us. Keep us in your prayers. JazakumAllah khayr.
ุจِุณْู
ِ ุงِููู ุงูุฑَّุญْู
ِٰู ุงูุฑَّุญِْูู
ِ
"In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful".
With this article I'm making an attempt to walk you through the memories that might shed light on why I did, what I did and how I got through, what I got through. I ask that you take this walk with me through what quickly became the worst and the most tested time of my life one last time. I should add that this is the most difficult post for me, more so than the last. It is not easy to read much less revisit in my mind. I’m giving a disclaimer to my readers before they begin.
It all started with the game. It all started with Mole A and Mole B. It all started when I was three to four years old. I remember as cousins we would all play together and have good times together. Since I was the youngest out of all of them, they would usually introduce new games to me.We would find new and interesting ways to spend our time together since computers were new in those days but they were not readily available at home.
One of the ‘games’ that two of my cousins shared with me, I thought was a confusing form of entertainment. Later it became a memory that would make me cringe and make me hate the dark forever. Two of my cousins would usually bring me into the room and close the door. I recall them introducing the rules of the game and then we would just play.
The game directions were as follow:
1.
There would usually be three players in the game: the two of them and me.
2.
One person would be against the wall - that person was always me.
3.
Then one person had to go turn off the light to the room so that the room was drenched in darkness which would always be one of them because I was too short to reach the lights.
4.
Lights would stay out for anywhere from 10 to 15 seconds and within those 10 to 15 seconds and they would do whatever they wanted to me against the wall.
5.
The whole objective, was that when the light turned on we would turn into “junglees” and pretend like we were animals and run in circles until the next person got off of the line, which would always be one of them and turned off the light again. At that point they would switch positions.
6.
Nobody ever told anybody outside of the “group” what was going on because that was the point of the game that you were supposed to pretend like you didn't know what happened when the lights turned on.
That game became their best kept secret. And when I grew up and realized what that “game” meant I was angry. As angry as I have ever been. I was Furious. I remember crying and asking Allah why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?
Then I remember another time when Mole A, the younger one of the two, and I were playing on the roof that was not yet built properly. I remember there had been a bed made out of wood which is quite traditional for those days in Pakistan and still is (chaarpai.) I remember playing games with him and the next thing I remember is us laying on that bed and all I remember is my pajamas were halfway down my frock was flipped upwards and he was taking his pants off. Luckily, his zip got stuck on skin and he screamed and started crying and ran to his mother. I just sat there confused and completely lost. I picked up my pajamas and I cannot remember what happened after that but I think I most likely just went back to playing other games. From what I remember, he had to be taken to the doctor.
Another memory that I have was with Mole B, the older of the two. It was a memory of us sitting on a sofa in the living room. I remember us being there alone and I remember being touched and felt up in ways which I later cried for years over. At four or five years old I was unable to understand at the time that this person did not love me and they were not doing this because they cared for me. I started thinking this is how family shows love and its ok because he is my brother. For a while, I believed that that is how family shows affection and I allowed that behavior to continue because the little girl was still confused and the only sense she could make out of what was happening to her body was “my big brother loves me and this is his way of showing his affection." F*** YOU.
What is really horrid about this situation is that even now, even after all that I have already said, I'm STILL being respectful and not saying more. I am still holding back details.
I would also like to add that I have never disrespected them openly, I have never tried to tarnish their reputation EVER. I have always addressed them as my brothers and tried my best to give them that respect. The part of me that didn't have her own brothers unfortunately had nothing to compare these actions to and due to that I could not tell the difference between a healthy way of showing affection and this disturbing display of abuse of power.
I would also like to add at this time, I recall him telling me that he learned it from the other cousin and that he taught it to his other female cousin(s.) I don’t remember her name. That is how I know that I might not be the only victim. I said ‘might’ because I can't be sure about other victims. I can't even be sure if he was just lying so he could get me to do it. That just makes me realize, even at three or four year old maybe I tried to stop him. Maybe I told him that I didn't want to play this game anymore and maybe he just fed me a story just so he could continue.
I'm speaking out because I had not one but FOUR different individuals who all seem to know that they could hurt me more than once and I wouldn't do anything. They all seemed to know that I was vulnerable like it was written on my face. Like it was written on my F****** body. Like my mother was not a good enough reason for them to leave me alone. Like my DEAD FATHER was not a good enough reason to leave me alone. LIKE THEIR OWN SISTERS AND MOTHERS WERE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME. AS IF I WAS THEIR PROPERTY.
I am even angrier at the older one because not only did he take advantage of me he was clearly sensible enough to understand that he had to hide it from the family. He had enough maturity to understand that he couldn't do it to his sister and he couldn't do it the other sisters in the family. YET SOMEHOW, he knew that he could do it to me and for that I can not just simply ‘MOVE ON and be HAPPY’. They seemed to have talked about where and when this ‘game’ would take place because their timing was perfect most of the time. It was always when our parents were busy, other cousins weren't around, or when we were left alone.
I also remember going back to Pakistan in 2009 for my cousin's wedding and I remember sleeping over at their parents place. I remember that he made an attempt to try to take me out of the room to watch a ‘movie’ in the other room at an ridiculous time when everyone else wanted to go to bed. I immediately picked up on that and luckily, (since I was sixteen and old enough to understand what he was implying) knowing his history with me, I refused. Then for the rest of that night I prayed to God that while the lights are off nobody touches me because I was ready to hurt someone. That morning they wanted me to stay for breakfast and I requested politely to be taken to my step-dad. And that was the last time that they ever looked at me the wrong way. Unfortunately, for me seeing that even in 2009 (years later) he had not changed made me realize he was a pedophile, a dishonorable man and his intention was always corrupted when it came to me. I was never his little sister and this brotherf***ing molester was not my brother.
I know for too many of you this is very disturbing and I know that for a lot of my family members this is very painful to read. As it should be. But TRUST ME when I say this, I DO NOT REGRET ANY ONE OF YOU READING THIS. A lot of you are family to my molesters too. My entire body has been shivering since I started writing this article because I've had to live with these memories for 15 years. I felt degraded beyond words can describe. MY CHILDHOOD WAS ROBBED FROM ME and if I could run back in time I would go and mutilate them so that their families would know back then what they had done. I would be the protection that nobody else gave me. I would be the protection that they were afraid of. I would be the protection that they would remember until their last breath. I don't know if you can relate but I hope you guys can understand why it hurts so much to think that they have sisters and it's so painful to think that they knew better than to do this to their sisters. THEY HAD SISTERS. I thought I was one of them. They had me f***ing convinced.
The sad part of the situation was, it wasn't over yet. While all that was going on, another damning case began. It was when another one of my molesters (MOLE C) was caught in the act. Sadly, that also started as a ‘game.’
Though I don’t remember if the Mole A/B incidents came before this next incident, but they occurred around the same time. I was four or five still and he was at least 11 or 12, we were caught in a game of ‘hide and seek’ gone terribly wrong. My mother found us in a compromising situation and we both got in trouble. I was taken into the room and slapped and told to stay away from him. That he was nothing to me and I was nothing to him. At that moment, I wanted to tell my mother what he was doing to me behind the draped laundry and that it wasn't my fault. Unfortunately, I saw how angry she was and I had already been slapped and so as a four to five year old I got so scared and nervous that I just kept my mouth shut and I let her say whatever she wanted. I was told to stay away from him and to never walk by his way again. At the time I didn't realize that what had gotten me in trouble was going to be a misery I would have to repeatedly face either through him or my mind.
One of my biggest regrets as an adult and even as a young child is/was why couldn't I just open my mouth and say that he was touching me inappropriately and it wasn't my fault. I understand that as I child I was not aware that this was abuse. Regardless, I still wonder sometimes, so what if she slapped me one more time? At least I could have gotten through to her just in case she didn't realize what she saw. Maybe she would have acted differently maybe something different could have been done about it.
Though I do not remember every single detail of how it went down...
After that whole hide and seek fiasco, at some point in time the elders in my family saw it fit to hold a council to discuss how to resolve this troubling matter.. I don't remember exactly what was the content of that meeting but the result would somehow link the two of us together more lastingly in the future. A reprehensible union that I would later face many challenges to break free from.
Their preconceived notion of this union wasn't as damning until you realized what circumstances this decision was made under. Even though it wasn't written in stone technically I was given little but no choice in the matter since I was so young. I never did get to ask why being caught in a compromising state led to more contact instead of a serious investigation into why he lured me alone there in the first place. However, I am sure that they didn't think it was something serious or at least that is what I can hope was the case.
It is important to note that in 2000 at the age of 7, my mother and I got our visas and came to America. Life here was challenging; a new culture and a new language. *I will get more into my life at my parents home in another blog post
Regardless of their thoughts on the incident; a chain of similar misfortunes was just getting started. In 2001, We went back to Pakistan after hearing the news of my ill Uncle. Though, I can only remember two incidents, (since my mind has blocked out more traumatic memories) .... I was violated more than once by this individual while also being offered a bag of candies as a form of payment for the heinous acts that sweets couldn't even begin to heal me from. Without getting too graphic, it was night-time and I was once in a car with him and he made me touch him in inappropriate places and I remember him reaching and grabbing me inappropriately as well. Our mothers were out shopping and from what I remember we were in the car alone for sometime. The second memory that I have is of me laying on a bed and I was handed a bag of candies by this individual and told that they were mine if I stayed quiet. From what I remember from that traumatic episode, I was then inappropriately groped, fondled and violated as an eight year old. Not that none of this was new, the only ‘new’ thing was I was paid in candies this time. I can’t help but think and wonder now if he thought since I was younger than him candies was all I needed and I didn't have any izzat (honor/dignity/respect) to protect. I wonder if he thought that touching me was OK because he was told that I wouldn't do anything by the other molesters. I wonder if they were in cahoots? I wondered if he would do the same to his own sister which I was CLEARLY not. Either way, he disrespected my body as a little girl and for that he has lost all respect in my eyes. Unfortunately even though the sexual molestation ended there, the emotional abuse that I would endure was just beginning, but this time it wasn't only his fault.
At this point I would like to say that something happened that caused my parents to react really harshly and unfairly. I will not be going into detail about that in this article since I want this to be strictly about my molestations. To sum up what is important, when I finally opened up about my molester my parents refused to believe me and also questioned my character instead of coming to my rescue when they should have known better.
My heart was broken and I would cry long nights, sometimes it would get so bad that I would pull my own hair just to stop myself from losing it completely. Sometimes the episode would be so bad that I would have trouble breathing and I would start shaking uncontrollably (i.e panic-attacks). I didn't see a future worth living for and started dreading making mistakes since the punishment for any mistake was always the threat of marrying me off. In a normal home, these things wouldn't have led me to suicidal behavior. However, I was molested repeatedly, any demeaning comment by my parents and their inability to validate me, shattered my being. I opened up with many hopes and was denied harshly. Research shows that molested children seldom speak up about their molestation, but if they do not get validated when they do open up it can have detrimental effects on their life and well-being. Once I realized that I was just a sacrificial lamb and that I wasn't allowed to stand up for my self-respect, (and infact, I was being told that I had none) my depression started getting worse and I became suicidal. I would walk up to the kitchen at night when everyone was asleep and stare into the abyss of nothingness and try to think of reasons to not pull out the knife and end it all. I was emotionless or maybe I was just in shock of what I was thinking about doing. Slowly but surely the facade of the happy Neelum was slipping away.
Without getting into any more details since that is a whole other blog post, my molester stayed in my life much longer than I wanted him to and now every-time I would do something to upset my parents he would be their ultimate form of punishment. What hurts me is that I told them his name but because of their reaction and persistent denial, they never found out the names of the other three victimizers.
After coming back from that trip and the loss of my uncle in 2001, my parents decided that it was better if my mother busied herself and went to work. I went back to school. There I started to focus more on my education got better grades, my English improved and so did my accent. The culture shock still remained as I didn't really get a chance to communicate with many of my peers outside of school however my hesitation towards new themes and topics went away. Years passed and one day suddenly we got the news that my mother had cancer. At the time I wasn't aware of what the disease was and what it was capable of because my parents didn't really let me feel the brunt of it. Mom was a survivor ever since I knew her and like the hero that she was she fought off cancer, bringing relief to the entire family. In 2005, it was decided that for the summer vacation we would go back home since all of her family wanted to see her. Her siblings awaited her desperately, and we packed our bags with excitement. I was so excited to see my family again but I didn't realize that as an eleven year old, my life had other plans for me. I didn't realize that this trip would become a struggle to even think of and my mind would block out a lot of it for a long time.
As a young kid, I was finally very excited to go back home for a happy occasion since the last time we had returned to my homeland it was for a traumatic experience (the death of my uncle.) I couldn't wait to tell my cousins the stories about America and all my experiences. Then when I went back I couldn't wait to tell my classmates and teachers about my experiences in Pakistan. The feeling of a typical 11 year old kid. With three weeks time allotted to us we had to make sure that my mom was able to see all of her siblings and spend a little bit of time at each of their homes and my dad could see his siblings. What they didn't realize was these 3 weeks were about to leave one of the most prominent scars on their daughter's being but they would not find out about any of it.
My mother would frequent shops and bazaars with her family, excited to do shopping while we were in Pakistan. Meanwhile, we stayed at a relative’s house while my step-dad stayed at his brother’s place. It was custom for everybody to sleep all in the same room for the sake of protection and security, the elders took the beds and cousins slept on the floor. For most of our duration there, I can only recall one week’s worth of painful memories where the molestation continued. Even while I'm typing this my entire body is shivering uncontrollably that's the effect that this time has on me and probably one of the most prominent reasons why it's taken me so long to actually type this. My other cousin was a little older than I was, and she would make our beds and we would sleep together on the floor. Mattresses and blankets would be separate. Her brother (molester D) slept nearby, close enough so that if he wanted to he could grab and touch me. Since I was up due to the jet lag, I was the only kid awake at nights. He started noticing and eventually would grab me inappropriately reaching over periodically, for very long time I was unable to understand then his intentions were anything but pure. I remember his hands running down my face and neck and beyond as far as he could reach. I was a little girl and he was more than twice my age at the time. I was afraid to go up to my parents because I didn't want to ruin their trip and because quite frankly I was very scared of getting in trouble. Also at this point I would like to point out as sad and disgusting as this may sound I was starting to form a little crush on him. As a little girl who was not shown much physical affection by her parents, the physical attention that I was getting was the only form of love that actually stuck out.
Now when I think about it I cringe and yes I have cried countless hours over this and it is still very hard for me to talk about it. For a very long time I did not bring up what happened to me because I was developing unnatural feelings for this man and I was convinced that he was in love with me. I didn't realize all he was doing was hurting me. I WAS UNDERAGE and he should be ashamed of himself. Out of my innocence, I would follow him around because I thought it was cute. I didn't realize that nothing was cute about it. In fact I recall very briefly when we came back to America after the trip I would cry because I would miss him and I would want that attention again. Those were not the only times that I was inappropriately felt up by this individual. One time I remember being felt up while there was no electricity at home and everybody else was playing out on the roof.
In 2008 I finally realized what the technical definition of a pedophile was. After it was confirmed that 3 out of 4 of my molesters where pedophilic child molesters, I went into shock. I thought about hurting myself, I thought about killing myself, I became suicidal. I called this man my brother I held him like a brother and let him hold me and he took advantage of it. And unfortunately because of the treatment that I was getting at home (unrelated) I fell for it. However I would like to point out at this time that no matter how bad I was being treated at home this man did not have an excuse to take advantage of my body. His actions spoke for himself and he forever lost any respect I had for him. He was the one I hated the most. I cannot get over the fact that he was an adult- A CONSENTING ADULT and I was 12. TWELVE.
There was an incident briefly in 2009 when I went to Pakistan for my cousin's wedding where we were all getting ready to go to the event. We all got on a rented bus so we could go as a whole family to attend my cousin’s wedding ceremony. When I got on the bus and made my way through the cabin the lights were dim and I was walking carefully because I had heels on. At this point I noticed once I started getting closer to my seat my molester put his hands out and block my way as if to try to stop me or to initiate physical contact. I shoved his arm away and passed through and sat in my seat. In our culture, a woman’s respect is given great importance. And since he was aware of this by upholding his own women, I can't see any reason why someone that has abused and violated my rights would think that that was appropriate action. Not to mention that he was sitting next to his wife, who is still probably unaware of the pedophile that she lives with. I would like to clarify that I do not hold her responsible nor blame her at all because he was very deceiving. At this point I would also like to mention that the person that I was supposed to get engaged to eventually (at that point) was on that same bus which only shows me that this pedophile did not care that I was somebody's wife to be and it was not important to him to protect his cousins’ honor. Did he think he had power over me? Was he trying to be cool? Was he making a statement? I did not find that funny or appropriate at all. I’m sure his wife wouldn't either.
That same trip my aunt hosted a dinner for me and my family and invited all of our family over and we were so excited. There was a brief moment after eating dinner when my aunt was in the kitchen the entire time and I realized that I should go and help/thank her for all that she has done for us. It was then I turned around and behind the kitchen window in the darkness I saw this man standing there staring back at me like a hawk looking at its prey - the pedophile. I remember looking to see if there was anybody else there but there was nobody. If there was some reason for him to be there, there was no reason for him to stare at me the entire time. I thought, ‘what a sick bastard’ and walked away feeling pity for him.
I am almost 100% certain that he thought that he had power over me and that I was his personal toy and that whenever he wanted I would just follow him around like I used to when I was a little girl. I don't think he remembered that someday he would have daughters and he was the type of man that every parent fears getting near their daughters. He can deny it all he wants but the truth is ALLAH will not deny it. His body will speak for him. His eyes, his hands, his fingers and his mind. For some reason he thought that I was weak and I would remain weak for the rest of my life. He never thought about the fact that what if I did not forget what happened to me and what if I was strong enough to open my mouth and say it.
The last time I ever let him have power over me was an incident where briefly after my marriage when I gained weight and was trying to go through my healing process that he decided that he wanted to comment on my weight more than once and the minute he did that it took me off guard and I felt disgusting and horrible. All those memories came back and I completely lost it. What's scary about the whole incident is that on the phone I was unable to tell him because I was uncomfortable. I kept saying ‘yes bhai, yes bhai, of course’ and reluctantly laughed it off. When I got off of the phone I went into stress and I started sweating. I felt insulted and humiliated and embarrassed and flustered when my husband asked what happened I explained to him and at that point it was established that I was no longer obliged to keep any relations with my molesters. And the mere fact that he thinks that he can give his opinion on my body REGARDLESS OF HIS HISTORY WITH ME shows that I have given him way too much respect than he deserves and he does not feel ashamed or sorry about molesting me.
For all these cases, I have gotten extensive therapy. I have had to sacrifice my dignity and try to mend broken relationships with these individuals by force and later my own intent to heal. These men have destroyed my life and my life will never be the same again. My parents trusted them, unfortunately even more than they trusted their own daughter. My mother and stepfather loved these nephews and wouldn’t stop praising them even when I saw their ugly faces for what they were. I am no one's bag of secrets and the fact that they never opened up about what they did to me should say a lot about their characters. If they deny my account, which they will, I will see them in Allah’s court. Thanks to them I finally understand what the Quran meant by :
"But when there comes the Deafening Blast - that Day a man will flee from his brother, and his mother and his father, and his wife and his children. For each one of them that Day will have enough preoccupations of his own. Some faces, that Day, will be bright – laughing, rejoicing at good news. And other faces, that Day, will have upon them dust. Blackness will cover them. Those are the disbelievers, the wicked ones." (Quran 80: 33-42)
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| Me at the age of about 3-4 |
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| me at the age of 4-6 or younger. |
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| me at the age of roughly 7-9 |
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| me at roughly 11-13 |
