Souyenne Dathorne's Story

I try not to do this too often. Thinking about the past is never a joyful experience. My words here are my memories of what was done to me for too long. I guess before I start rambling I should say that the story I am writing here is my own and I am writing because I m a survivor of Sibling Sexual Abuse. My name is Souyenne Dathorne and I live in St.Lucia, an island in the Caribbean. I am from a family of 5, I am my father’s eldest daughter and child; my abuser hasn't been counted in this because I do better when I am able to block his existence from my life. My abuser is my older half brother. He was mean and hurtful and took so much away from me. I suffered psychological, physical and sexual abuse at his hands. I for a long time only saw the sexual abuse but the more I think about it all the more I see the many ways he damaged me.  I have more good days than bad days now.

My memories of what exactly were done to me when I was young have been carefully tucked away for so long that trying to get to them has been hard. I couldn't tell you how it started but I remember the progression. I was a child 4/5, I will never be sure about my age when it started because all I have are images of what I looked like at that age. I guess it started out rather innocently. We were playing under covers I can’t tell you what happened I do know there is a vague memory of someone asking what is going on and then saying that this would be discussed when my mom got home. I don’t ever remember the discussion; if it happened it never deterred him. I believe that was the beginning of my abuse.  I can’t tell you when it went from that to him coming into the room at night’s. He would offer to read to me at nights and wait until I fell asleep to get under the covers behind me. Then he would push it between my legs from behind. I would squeeze my legs together to push it out but that never stopped him; in fact it caused him to push harder. I learned to stop and just let it happen. Once he was done he would get up and leave. I tried to fight falling asleep but he would wait until Id fallen asleep to come back. I would say I didn't want him to read to me but then the questions would come as to why I didn't want him reading. He was always so eager to read my parents thought it was good for us both. There is one memory that has stuck with me no matter what I do. He has me kneeling on the floor and he’s behind me- the next thing I know I have sperm running down my legs, my mom has just pulled into the drive way and he says go clean up. He walks out like nothing has happened and my mom never suspects a thing. 

The threats of being hated by my parents if I told were a constant. They will be angry at you he would say; they will never do me anything. And years after I sit and think he was right all along. They never did him anything he was never punished, never reprimanded. I'm not sure what I expected but I didn't expect him to get away with it. I used to confront him every chance I got; because for the most part I believe I am not believed. He used to deny it but now he just says and so what. His stories as to what happened and how many times it happened and why it happened vary constantly. Then I sit and reflect on what he’s done to me, what he’s said to me and how that has made me feel and can’t find it in me to ever forgive him.  I can’t see how anyone else can forgive him. He used to live at home with my parents; and once again it feels like I am the one who has done something wrong. My aunt has told me to stop trying to ruin his life; that I should remain silent. My cousin has said that he didn't know what he was doing. He is 9 years older than me. That would have made him 13 when he started abusing me. And if he didn't know then, then how does he explain the next 7 years of abuse? And if he didn't know what he was doing was wrong then why threaten me?

I have just become a mom and everyday I think about all that could happen to him. I have done a great job thus far keeping him away from my child and will continue to do whatever it takes to keep him away. Abuse makes you stronger, it makes you wiser, it also makes you more afraid. I know the dangers out there and the damage they do. I fear every minute of everyday for my own child. I worry that I will be too over protective in trying to protect him from the pain I suffer with. How do you not worry when you've lived it?

For a long time I have hated me and there are days when I still do. Never really felt that I fit in anywhere or that I belonged. Never thought that I was worthy of love and for the most part I’m still desperately struggling with that. Never liked what I saw in the mirror when I saw anything at all. I have made my body my canvas and sought to surround myself with images of strength and beauty. I think that all of us who are survivors of sexual assault deal with these issues. We lose who we are through the abuse and have a hard time trying to find a way back. But there is always a path that leads to happiness and fulfillment, I struggle still trying to find the path and stay on it. It’s not always an easy road but we are survivors. We are not alone in our pursuit of happiness. There are other walking beside us, ahead of us and behind us. Don’t give up or in. Our voices will lead us to freedom. We speak out to help ourselves and those around us. This is a battle for many that I am fighting with many. I recite to myself continuously that I am not defined by my abuse, that it is something that was done to me.

I fight for women of the Caribbean who are afraid to speak out.

Souyenne Dathorne

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