Gabrielle Goliath

“The 19th of April 2014 was a holy Saturday for others and not so holy for me. What was meant to be an academic transition turned out to be a bitter life transition when I was kidnapped and raped in a taxi in the third month of my first year in university. Later in the same month, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. 

All I prayed for was to come back to my family alive. I saw my life flash before my eyes when they said, “We need to get rid of the evidence”, simply meaning I should be killed. In the same rhythm as his first stroke, I uttered “Dear God...” and my heart spoke the rest.

My self esteem, the love for myself, everything in me died. With every tear I shed. The minute I was thrown out of that car. I no longer look at myself the same. 

The fact that I never got to meet my offender face-to-face, that justice was never served, is the main reason for the delay in my healing.

Some days are better than others. 

One day Iʼm happy, positive and ready to fight and conquer, then the next I battle anxiety. 

All I ever want to do is end it all. Put a stop to this misery. 

For the longest time Iʼve used the desire to be wanted sexually to escape reality. Getting through days is a struggle. I live my life in fear. Making it home safe is a daily prayer. Waking up still breathing is an achievement. 

Oh how I want to end it all. But with everything going on in the country, all these women getting kidnapped, raped, then killed, makes me appreciate having survived. But again I am forced to relive the moment every time I hear a story of a raped woman.

What time was it? 

Are you sure you were not revealing?

Maybe you were drunk? 

You should have cut off his manhood. 

Society raped me more.

My life has never been the same, Iʼm broken, and my sin, my only sin, was being a woman.”