‘Am I allowed to feel sad or sorry?’- Navigating deeper questions as a survivor of Incestual Child Sexual Abuse

“Why are you sad?’

‘Did you expect that you would be married to him?’

‘He didn’t rape you, did he?’

These are just three of many questions that have killed and mocked the complex emotions that accompany incest.

I was a part of an emotional and sexual relationship from the age of 5 to 16 with someone related to me. Though penetration did not occur, oral sex did. Is it still a sexual relationship?  Am I allowed to feel sad or sorry? Through time I have called it many names – from child sexual abuse, rape to now, finally, unwanted sexual contact.

The relationship ranged from pointing out which bra I liked best in a magazine to creating mental stories in a role-play. It involved reading porn and listening to stories about the other person’s sexual pursuits. It involved not talking about sexual advancement from a neighbour to anyone in the family, but to this person, and the incident being brushed aside. It also involved taking emotional care of this very person during the end of our engagement. Incest is an elaborate and complex journey. Journey, if we have the watching component in us, to track the transition of emotions, labels, worldview and of course a support system. Else it can stall somewhere in the process and some part is left un-accessed.

Consent and pleasure becomes particularly tricky here because I remember times when I absolutely did not consent to it. I remember a time when I was tolerant of it and a time when I actually sought it out. Same with pleasure. Over time I realized experiencing pleasure did not always mean consent.

I became aware of my body’s capacity to create pleasure at a very young age, and that was a big secret to hide from others, but also, a personal victory. I was also able to see when shame overlapped with it in the later years. So, it made it very easy for me to remove that layer of shame and see how worthless guilt is very early on. Due to the support I received to process it, I find that grey is a shade I am able to access easily.

What I didn’t receive understanding for was my feeling of love, loss, anger and victory to exist together from the people who didn’t charge money to listen – people you and I generally talk to.

I myself have taken time to understand the heartache felt at the end of an eleven-year-long engagement with this person, and the disenfranchised grief that comes with it. I have felt intolerable rage and bitterness at people who don’t see the whole episode as a violation of my body and mind. I took a long time to understand why my father refused to confront the person and question him. I’m still not sure if I do.

Only recently I have stepped out of the drama of someone “standing up for me” as a measure of the love they feel towards me. I’m slowly learning that taking care of myself and nourishing my own life is the only real act of standing up for myself and that only I can do it. I am also learning to see myself differently from the person’s eyes and discovering what I see in me, and what I feel about what I see. This person was encouraging during the sexual engagement and of it and didn’t use brute force but persuasion. Thus seeing myself with my own eyes and separating what he saw in me is particularly challenging. It is also challenging to see that behind all the encouragement,there existed a component in him that saw me as an easily accessible object to experiment with. I not only lost that relationship to the family member when I ended the relationship, but I also lost a cheerleader in this person. Finally, I also recognized that I saw myself as an object to experiment with. And this was most painful for me.

Now, at thirty-one, I have an organisation that expands the scope of narratives around menstruation and sexuality in India. It is called ‘Ori Kalankini’-a move to embrace that which is called a ‘kalank’ and smile about it. We draw our sexual organs; we discuss desire and practice listening to the yes or the no that arises from the body and honour both. I am mostly happy. I enjoy the work that I do. And like everyone else, I struggle to come to terms with the changing desires of my heart.

ARTICLE WRITTEN BY- Dr. Sneha Rooh. She is a proud bisexual palliative physician and founder of Orikalankini, an organisation that is changing narratives around Menstruation and sexuality in India through art theatre and dialogue. She is currently documenting queer experiences of health care through her death cafes while travelling.