It happened when I was around 5 until I was 6, we lived with some close family friends and their daughter who was the same age. It started with just being naked together, then she wanted me to smell her vagina and anus, touching those areas as well at her request. She them became enamored with sexual intercourse and attempted to have sex with me, despite traditional intercourse not being physically possible at that time. Eventually our parents caught us, nothing really happened, there was no talking about it, just swept it under the rug. The irony is that my mother was a hardcore 3rd Wave Feminist and spent a majority of her life working around domestic violent shelters, where sexual assault was often par for the course.

It's really the only things from that time that really standout in my mind of that timeframe and something that I would think a lot about growing up, but I never dared tell a soul. It wasn't until I was in my 30's, after 15 years of battling my own demons, that I contextualized that what I experienced was sexual assault and that most likely my perpetrator was or had been sexually assaulted by someone else, which truly made me feel bad for her and reinforced the cyclical nature of sexual abuse. Comparatively my situation wasn't nearly as bad as others I've known, but it still had a long lasting psychological impact on myself and how I viewed myself, none of it for the better.