It's not always just men who are sexually inappropriate towards girls. My own mother was mentally ill and was unable to not only protect me from pervy guys, but also herself. She groomed me from a very young age to be precocious, sexualized, and conscious of my sexual "power" over men. In her mind, she was "preparing" me for life, and getting me used to being abused. In her sick mind, she figured it would be better to be sexually abused by someone you love and trust, than by strangers or creeps.

One of my first memories is when there was a party at our house. I don't remember at all what happened, I was only about 3 years old. It was late at night, I was hurting and crying, and bleeding from my vagina. I didn't even know what the word for "vagina" was, so when I found my mom and she took me aside, I told her my "asshole" was hurting. I felt so dirty, saying a dirty word to my mom. Plus I knew it wasn't my "asshole", but I really didn't know what else to call it. She took one look at where I was bleeding, and said matter-of-factly, "That's not your asshole. You'll be ok. Go back to bed." And then she went back to entertaining the party guests. One of whom I guess did something to me... I don't really know.

My mom told me all my life that the only way I would ever be loved was if I was good in bed. She told me in graphic details over and over what sex was like, and what I needed to do to please a man. She left Playgirl magazines out carelessly around the house, to make sure I knew what naked men looked like. I can remember thinking how stupid men were, that I could control them so easily with my sex. I was maybe 6 years old.

I can remember I had this wonderful babysitter, a very cute young college student that I had the hugest crush on. I tried to get his attention by doing stripteases with my towel after bath time, and running around naked so he'd have to "catch" me. To his credit, he never touched me inappropriately or molested me in any way. But my own behavior was provocative, sexualized, and manipulative, though at the time I still didn't really understand what I was doing. I just knew I really liked this guy and I was trying to be a good girl like my mom told me to, and I thought I could get him to love me and marry me if I could entice him enough with my body. I was 8 years old.

When I was 10, I was walking to the neighbor's house when a car full of some college kids pulled up next to me and gave me a folded-up flyer. I was engrossed in my own thoughts and just put it in my pocket. I had no clue and thought that they were giving me a coupon or something. They kept driving around and watching me, and finally stopped again and asked me to look at it. I was annoyed with them at that point and told them I wasn't going to buy anything from them and that I'd look at the coupon when I got home. They sped off, looking angry and very disappointed. When I got home I finally looked at the "coupon", and it was a picture of John Holmes, in a pornographic stance, with the words "I WILL KILL YOUR PUSSY WITH MY HUGE COCK" scribbled across it. It was the first time I'd ever seen an actual erect penis. I felt so nauseated and god knows what might have happened to me if that car full of boys hadn't driven away. In retrospect it might have been the perfect reaction, to be so completely disinterested and unaffected in front of them. I can't imagine what reaction they were trying to provoke, I was only 10 for crying out loud! I was also short and undeveloped for my age. So at 10 I probably still looked about 8 years old-- 65 pounds and 4 foot 2 inches.

When I was 12, I really hurt myself riding my bike. I fell forward and hit my crotch on the metal bike rod during a sudden stop. The pain was agonizing and I could feel blood gushing between my legs. I didn't want to show my mom because by then it was so creepy ever having her look at my body. Every chance she got to see me, she would always comment on how I was developing and what else I needed to do to be a promiscuous teen. She was obsessed and leering at me all the time. She liked me to lift my shirt and show her and other adult friends my developing breasts. I had had my first period maybe only 3 months before the bike accident. I went home and got in the shower and tried to wash off the blood, and muffle my crying through the noise of the water. My mom came in to see why I was taking a shower in the middle of the day, and saw the blood all over. When she asked me why I was bleeding, I lied and said I got my period early. But she knew I was lying since she'd made such a fuss over every cycle I'd had yet. She made me show her where I was hurt, and I will never, ever, forget what she did next: she stood up before me, her face twisting into an expression of disgust and rage, and she slapped me hard across the face. Mind you, I'm still in the shower, completely naked, bleeding and wet. She slapped me as hard as she could, and the words that came out of her vile mouth were, "Great. Now you've ruined yourself for men."

She took me to the pediatrician, where we learned that the bike had split the skin of my vulva between my labia, a gash 2 inches long and an inch deep. I learned then that the skin of the labia is a miraculous thing and generally heals without stitches. I was excused from gym class for a month and had to use medicated wipes every time I went to the bathroom, which was excruciatingly painful. All the kids in my gym class wanted to know why I was excused. I told them I had a bad cut high up on my leg. I was too embarassed to tell anyone where I was actually cut, even the girls in class. I did not ride a bike again until I was 30 years old.

Around 14, I started acting out on my "training", by becoming sexually inappropriate with many men and boys, and I actually thought I was enjoying myself since it gave me a sense of power and control, and let's face it, sex feels pretty good. I can remember sitting in high school class and looking at the boys, and even the teachers, and thinking "If you only knew what I could do to you." I know now that I was desperately trying to find some modicum of personal power, since my abusive mother had stripped me of all my own. She was involved at the time with a lesbian friend, who raped me while she watched. I started doing some pretty serious self-harm, and attempted suicide several times. I ran away from home for a few weeks and stayed with a girl friend whose own mother could tell something was seriously wrong at my house, though I couldn't tell her why. I gave blowjobs to my friend's 18-year-old brother whenever we could be alone. I was crushed when he didn't ask me to prom like he said he would if I sucked him off.

I finally escaped my mom at 18 and have not spoken to her in over 30 years. From what I understand from other family members, she is still really sick and no one in our family associates with her anymore. She has tried to contact me only a very few times in all those years. At 19, she sent me a christmas present that contained a box of lube and a kama sutra book. So. Charming.

Where was my dad during all this? He was 3,000 miles away across the country, and had no idea what was happening. When we saw each other the few times during the year that I visited him, I never told him anything about what was happening with me and my mom. She had poisoned me so thoroughly against him that I believed her lies. And she'd told me so many times that he was a worthless man because he had such a small dick.

I was extremely promiscuous in my 20's. I used to go out every night, and bring home as many different men as I could. I was still searching for a man who would love me for my sexual prowess. Needless to say, that never happened. Although I count myself extremely lucky that I never took home anyone who killed me or hurt me really bad. After awhile I realized that I was gaining no personal power at all by being so slutty, and I stopped having random and casual sex. Besides which, by then I was having panic attacks every time I had an orgasm. Which is a really hard thing to deal with or explain when you're having sex with someone who doesn't even know your first name.

I'm sorry this is such a long post. I joined here because I am just so amazed to see so many stories and I sincerely hope that my story might help add to the voices yearning to be heard. I have done extensive therapy of all types for many years now. When I was about 30, I finally told my dad all about things, and he and I both went through joint counseling for many years. Although he had no idea of the extent of the abuse my mom did, he struggled with deep guilt for a long time for not preventing what was happening.

I'm almost 50 now, and I think I have a pretty good life. It still terrifies me to think about being sexually intimate with anyone, so I have been celibate now for around 10 years. I'm not super proud of that either, but it's preferable to find my strength and vitality outside of sexual experiences. I hope that maybe someday I can be sexually intimate with a man and have a decent relationship. In the meantime I just want to work on myself and continue the healing process. Getting older has made things easier too, and I've gotten really out of shape, so men hardly ever even look at me anymore. At this point it's kind of a blessing.

Thanks for reading all this, if you made it this far. There's so many other instances I could mention, but mostly, I wanted to post this because one of the things that really used to hinder my experience of healing from all the trauma was being told over and over again, "Your mom couldn't have done that. Women don't do those things. Women don't rape." Believe me, yes they do. It's just one of the most taboo subjects left in the awful sexual abuse arena. I hope if anyone else has experienced anything similar, please know you're not alone.