I guess some wouldn’t call it bullying.

Bullying implies that one is being intimated over and over again,

Threats- visible and invisible and even an

Argument.

Being molested is sexual harassment.

It’s on the level of rape and pedophilia, but in a different sphere from bullying because

Bullying is someone calling another person a name like “freak”

Bullying is someone pushing another person into a row of lockers because the other person was

“In the way”. Bullying is someone spreading rumors about the new kid being kicked out because they

got in a fist fight. Calling someone fat on the internet is considered bullying, but when someone

puts their hands on you because you’re younger than them in

places that only you should know about

isn’t.

In that small guest room I learned bullying isn’t just classified as being slapped in the face by

“friends” or

teased because I was the only African American girl in my class,

or being made fun of for liking the white boy-

No. It can be your eldest cousin you look up to because she is everything you aspire to be asking

if her hand on your thigh is okay and you saying yes because you were only nine years old.

I didn’t say anything because in my innocent eyes she was perfection. She was thin

funny

pretty.

Night after night, her hands on my bare and clothed skin. Always moving, always searching and I

would lie there stiff as a board, not stopping her because I thought it was normal. And then-

she lied. She told my father that I-

a nine year old-

let a boy touch me. And I was too young, too loyal to my perfect cousin to confess to my father

who the real culprit was.

Instead, I confirmed her story and I’ve never looked at a garage the same or a paddle.

But-

The truth never left my lips until I sat in a church group and we discussed bullying and

sexual harassment because despite what people think they can go

hand in hand like peanut butter and jelly. Finally, I let lose the burning truth and do you know-

what kept me silent for four years?

Fear- I remembered the rage of my father and I felt powerless against the cousin I wished to be.

I felt

loyalty to her because she was my cousin and my father’s niece. I thought it was normal.

This secret I kept behind closed bars slowly started to rot inside my head and I thought I was

worthless and that I deserved what she did. And when the secret came out that

my fourteen year old cousin

molested me every night for two months, I felt even worse because her life wasn’t the best-

that loyalty was still ingrained in me even as my parents apologized to me.

To this day, I can’t see my aunt and her other children because I remember her-

and the dark

and that guest room

and that time where I wanted to be cool like her.

I remember those years where I was so angry and depressed all the time and I never knew

why.

Why did she do it? Why did I let her? Why didn’t I say something sooner-?

Because I was afraid, powerless, and felt unworthy: All feelings described in those who are

bullied. So you cannot tell me with a straight face that being molested is not considered bullying

because the symptoms are the same in both parties and it leaves someone broken.

It leaves families and

friendships ripped at the seams and

bullying is more than a

push,

a shove,

or a name.