The Story of Her:

And My Journey through Sexuality

Taheira Hickmond

CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENCE, AND MURDER

Being a queer woman today, I believe that in my past sexuality for me was distorted at one point. However, sexuality for me like many other girls was the basic image of what young girls know; pink=girls, blue=boys, and yet I felt I did not fit into any standard so black=me.

I was born and raised in the hood in the 90s and early 2000s. My grandmother and step-grandfather raised me because my mom was on drugs and my dad was not ready to be a father. At a very young age, I learned abandonment early. As a young girl, I never felt pretty and nobody told me I was. Therefore, I naturally rejected things about myself, like my nose was too big, I was way too black, and my hair was so short. My grandmother was a pastor and my step-grandfather was a deacon so my two younger sisters and I had to wear only dresses and skirts as apart of our religious beliefs. So not only did I feel that I looked funny, I also felt I dressed funny. I felt the total opposite of feminine so any chance I got I would ruin those dresses and my hair as a way of acting out. I was raised to think a man and a woman was the right way in the eyes of God. Yet, my first sexual encounter was my nana’s adopted daughter, she just got on top of me one night at a sleepover and began humping me. I remember laying there confused, and then I released involuntarily. Afterwards she rolled over and went to sleep and I stayed up all night hoping she would do it again and yet, I felt ashamed by my feelings but that only sparked my rebellious behavior.

Sadly, at the age of 12 years old, someone I loved and thought I could trust took my virginity away from me, then to top off my pain I found out I was pregnant. My belief in God was gone and I felt God betrayed my body. I barely knew about sex, and the knowledge I learned about sexuality was forced on me. So after giving birth to my son I ran for dear life away from home. However, on the streets I learned sexuality was men would grab their dicks while women wore barely anything to express their sexuality. In addition, drugs and alcohol made it so you lose all your morals. I also learned that I enjoyed being with women but I like the attention men gave me for having a big butt, little waist, and a smile so I would be with them as well. Sex became a blur of sexual endeavors and love did not exist. I did not know who I was or where I wanted to be, I felt like a sexual outcast.

My experience was my own, so when the man that raped my sister a part of me died inside because I did not want my younger 15 year old sister to be confused about my sexuality as much as I was and I was tired of him. I killed him and God was not there when I did it. Instead, the devil was in both of our eyes. I looked at the man I once loved in his eyes and felt nothing. Sexuality, to me was the night he kissed me goodnight and then held a pillow over my face as he repeatedly poked my 12-year old vagina until it popped, and now it was my sister’s story too. Our pop-pop may you rest in peace. 

 

I was sent to the psych ward and while there not much changed in my mind about sexuality. I took the attention of the crazy men there and they swooned over my looks. I even sucked a loony person’s dick as a reward for him worshiping me. Sexuality now the expression of the crazy inside of me.

I was sent to jail once I was found stable in the psych ward. There I felt the pressure of women fucking women being pushed on me, I was constantly being seduced, but I was on psych medication and I had to get my head on straight. I saw women take refuge in the arms of other women in replace of men. That was not me; I did not want to replace anyone. I wanted to find someone to erase pain.

Once I was unleashed, I took woman after woman to bed with me. The sexual release temporarily numbed me but it was only sexual insanity. In the midst, I fell in to a delusion of love with a woman (we will call her Tee), and she was seriously abused inside. I remember our first night together I ate her out for about an hour and then told her I loved her. She called me a fool and went to sleep in her jail bunk, and I layed there up all night with her scent on my face hoping she would want more. Those times for me were the most amazing times in my life. I felt like I was in some kind of rom-com. Nevertheless, that was the delusional part; I remember singing in the community showers, “Pieces of Me” by Ashlee Simpson because I thought this was definitely love. Sex for hours and intellectual conversation that made me think, I could do this prison thing but I was not growing. Because I did not tell you about the fact that Tee tried to kill herself every chance she got while with me and she always wanted sex with or without me. Sexuality at that time was a fantasy of wants and needs. Moreover, that illusion then made me feel halfway true to myself but I barely knew what love was.

It did not work out between us. Reality hit me and I had to accept my fate as the judge sentenced me to 15 years. I had to serve 85% of that, 12 years and 9 months. 

In prison, I chased that feeling I got with Tee but found nothing close. An old friend of mine, a beautiful Rican girl I met in the psych ward, became my FWB. She wanted love and a relationship and I wanted only a nut and a friend. We separated and I became official with an ogre of a woman twice my age. I wanted a nut and I got one. I realized after years of that I really could not waste time with people and I would not settle. I had to self-reflect and thought about how sexuality was not taught to me, it was forced on me. Love was there and then taken away from me. However, though it all I had to come back to my roots and found that my nana’s adopted daughter was gay, she is now married to a woman with two sons. The man I loved who raped me and my younger sister was my step-grandfather, and even though he hurt us we now know he was a confused man. My grandmother was weird about it because he was the man she loved and I did not realize how much it affected her as well. And sadly rape was normal in my family but women pushed it aside and were strong about it. It was not discussed or a tragedy, on the contrary it was life and life goes on, Oh yeah that beautiful Rican girl I talked about earlier who got the shit end of the deal with me. Well, she became a woman before my eyes, and I saw God again through her. Love pieced us together, we brought the best out of each other, and sex was an afterthought, (but a thought because damn she is sexy). It does not consume us! I realized that a moment with her was not enough and so I plan to have a lifetime with her. Of course, we had our disadvantages in life, and like me, sexuality was misrepresented to her as well. However, we made amends with our past and look forward to a healthy sexuality built on love and communication. My son is 15 years old now and I get it, it can be hard to talk about sexuality without sounding controlling, over-protective, misguided but the purpose of this essay is to shed light on the taboo message of sexuality and the fact that everyone has a different experience with it. As a Queer woman I had to learn about the “in’s” and “out’s” of sexuality and love. So express yourself but be safe and happy. LOVE IS LOVE

 

Taheira Hickmond 439370-D

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Nat. Brut is a proud winner of a 2020 Whiting Literary Magazine Prize