A Stray Penis Poked Me In Public Today & It’s My Fault

Did you hear about Amaka? The girl who went to the bank and came back with a load of cum on her legs?

Well if you didn’t, here is a quick recap:

Amaka set out to the bank a few days ago to make a few transactions. She was standing on a queue when she noticed an unusual movement behind her. Next thing she knew, there was hot gooey liquid running down her legs – SPERM!

Apparently, the demented fellow behind her had been jerking off, right there in a banking hall filled with people!

Amaka took to Instagram to share the story of her assault with what she felt would be a sympathetic audience, not knowing that she was setting herself up for another round of assault – a more searing one than the stranger’s hot sperm she would now spend a very long time trying to scrub off.

Her comments section was besieged with people who wanted to know what she was wearing to have “provoked” such a reaction from the man in question. It was a reaction because well, it couldn’t have been the fault of the poor man; he was merely re-acting to something Amaka did. It had to be Amaka’s fault.

You see, Amaka’s story is my story. It is the story of most Nigerian women.

As a Nigerian woman, a trusted relative rapes me at 14 and the first thing I’m asked is, “what were you wearing?”.

I get groped by a complete stranger on my way home after a long day at work and if I so much as raise my voice, someone shushes me and tells me, “you sef, learn to dress as you’ll like to be addressed.”

As a Nigerian woman, I spend a good part of my life fighting dicks off my back. On the bus, in the market, heck even in the church and when I complain because I am too tired from fighting. The first question I’m asked is “what were you wearing?”

So I learn to fight. Silently. Because no one else is ready to fight for me. The strange penis poking my side on the BRT is my burden to bear, my cross to carry, because I provoked it.

And then I get tired of fighting and resign to fate.

I learn to accept the groping. I learn to just stand there silently while a man offloads his gooey mess on me. I don’t say ‘thank you sir’ but I might as well because, I should be grateful that he found my ugly ass attractive enough.

A few years down the line, I have my own girl and an older relative assaults her. She comes crying to me, I lovingly admonish her to keep her voice down and then with a whisper -because that’s how I’ve learned to talk – I ask her, “what were you wearing?”