Why Didn't You Warn Me?

                                      “WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME?”

Oh Lord, I am calling on you in my hour of most need.  I am on trial for murder.  And though someone is dead, I maintain it was in self defense though even I doubt that claim; for, he was on his way out and I maybe was out of danger.  However, I could think only of the future and the fact that it was now time for me to take care of myself.  I am no longer a little girl who needs daddy’s protection.  And yet, I can’t help but think of him right now and question why he, and maybe most fathers and mothers as well, do not warn their children about the depravity of man, and the harm which can be done to us (innocent, defenseless children) if we are not alert and aware or tell someone of the initial incident.  This is a parent's responsibility.  I have depended  on you for years Lord and depend on you now to bring justice in this situation.  But I can’t help but put down a few words to my dead father and try to understand, though he was so loving and cared for us, he did not warn me.


Dear Daddy,

As I sit here in this cell, waiting for the verdict, I can’t help but think of you.  Why didn’t you warn me?  Tell me of the depravity of man?  I was much too young for the telling when mom died; I was only 3 or 4.  Surely I wouldn’t have understood then, but you didn’t go until I was 10.

You were a loving father.  No doubt.  I knew this for sure when I broke your favorite Christmas record, Silent Night, and you didn’t fuss at or spank me.  You were just happy I told the truth.  And how about that time the beautician said she would have to cut off all my hair because I had let it get so tangled and matted.  You would not accept this and took up that comb and got to work.  I cried and cried and fussed but you did not get angry.  My head was tender for days, but I still had my long, beautiful hair and I was grateful.  Because of you.  You loved me that much.
         
You played with us and did the best you could after mom died.  I remember how you made the paper kites for us and let us help in any way our little hands could and how you taught us how to make the glue with the flour and water.  I remember how you helped us set traps and catch birds.  This was before mom died, and we'd play with them and then set them free.  I remember your singing and playing the guitar and base, and to this day I can not hear a song that I know and go without singing along even if I don‘t particularly like it.  I also like to fumble with the piano, but don’t know one note from another.

You fed us and kept us off the streets.  I remember the time you came home and told us of how a man tried to rob you but you fought him and won saying you had children to feed.  You were so proud and so was I.  You met all our basic needs and then some.  You even tried to protect us from our relatives though I did not know why.  I found out, however, after you died and I endured 5 years of molestation at the hands of a much older cousin.  I recall how, while you were still alive, he had winked at me and how uneasy it had made me feel.  But it was something I could not explain and did not know how to talk about.  Yet, at your funeral, as I went outside to cry alone, he assured me everything would be okay.

Why didn’t you warn me?  The incest was rampant in that house.  But wait, I recall the man who, under the pretense of helping me stay afloat in the water when my feet could no longer reach the bottom, began to pinch my nipples.  They hurt for days.  Why did you entrust me to that family?  And the old man passing in a truck who whistled lewdly at me.  It all floods back upon me now.  But I was too young to preceive the danger and thus had no voice for those things.  I mean, even you kept dirty magazines and I remember once you paid me to go outside when you were keeping company with a woman.  I saw you fondle her breast.  This confused me and left me with no one to turn to and no voice concerning these things; until now and now it may be too late.

I’m 18 years old now daddy.  I’ve just started college.  Things looked promising.  But no more.  I was spending time with my boyfriend of 1 ½ years who swore he loved me; but, that fateful day he showed his great displeasure with my idea of waiting for sex until I was married.  “After all, it’s not like you’re a virgin,“ he accused (he knew of the abuse I suffered).  Yet, I was a virgin.  Through all the molestation, I was never penetrated and I thanked God for that.  God, someone you taught me to trust in and who I felt had been guiding me since mom’s death; for, I instinctively knew she was not getting up out of that box and coming back home with us though neither you nor anyone else discussed death and its finality with me.  We never discussed her death at all.  So this intuitive knowledge could have come from no one but the God you taught me to love.

Anyway, when I told my boyfriend  he should go, he paused, then  overpowered me and stripped as much of my clothing away as he needed and raped me.  When he was done, he went to the door and said, “Now what you gon do?“  As he turned to open the door and go, I jumped from the bed, went to my desk, grabbed the letter opener and stabbed him.

And stabbed him.

And stabbed him.

Fifteen times they say.  In the back and in the front as he turned in shock to defend himself.  I stepped back then.  At my retreat, he went for the door again, barely got it open and staggered out into the hall, falling to the floor.  I kicked his legs all the way out and closed the door.  I sat on my bed, my weapon of choice still in my strong right hand.

Daddy, in stabbing him, I stabbed them all; my cousin, the man from the water, the man from the truck and countless others not mentioned, and every man who might dare to abuse me or any female in the future.

I’m an adult, daddy.  It was my responsibility to take care of myself, the best way I could.  That is what I was doing.  I vowed to no longer be a victim.  I had promised myself no man would ever put his hands on me again without my permission.  But you see, he was my boyfriend and they are trying to say it was consentual, despite my ripped clothing.  And he was leaving so they say I was out of danger.  But I didn’t feel out of danger, daddy.  I felt as long as he was around, I would be his victim and the victim of many more to come just like him.

He asked, "Now what you gon do?"  He asked daddy.  So I answered; protect myself from further abuse.  And I did and I was proud as I sat there on my bed, deaf to the screams in the hall and the knocking at my door.  Tears streamed down my face.  I loved him.  The memories of the past flooded over me and I asked myself again and again, “Why didn’t you warn me?”  Wonderful father that you were, "Why didn’t you warn me?"
         
Countless women are raped everyday.  By strangers, mother’s boyfriends, their own boyfriends, uncles, cousins and even their own fathers.  Some are even forcibly prostituted by their family.  It happens to boys too.  Who is there to warn us?  Whose responsibility is it?

Well, I have to go dad; they’re unlocking the door.  It's too soon.  The verdict is in.  My future will be decided this moment.  Things are once again out of my hands.  Pray for me daddy.  Where ever you are.  May God have mercy on my soul.  And may all parents come to realize the need to warn their children about the things which could happen to them at the hands of others.  Even parents sitting together should warn their children against potentially being harmed by one of them.  It is a hard but necessary duty which must be taken up by someone and, if not parents then who?  Who should warn us?

Bye daddy.  Perhaps I will be seeing you soon.




                                                    THE VERDICT

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes we have your honor.”

“Mr. Foremen, would you please read the charges and the verdict?”
         
“For the charge of murder in the first degree, the verdict is…”



                    Jane Doe:  1969 - ?  You decide.  What's the verdict?



To all parents:

Please do not neglect your duty.  At the early age of 5, warn your child about potential danger from others and even either of you, the parents.  Your child must know that he/she needs to report an incident once in a safe environment and away from the offending party.  Protect your child from possibly falling into the position of the fictional character in this story (though the abuse addressed here is not fiction).  I thank you for reading this and taking it seriously and heeding it’s warning.  You don’t want to find your son or daughter in this predicament.  May God bless you and keep you all, especially the little ones.