That Piece About Men As Victims And Survivors Of Sexual Assault Too

n-MALE-SEXUAL-ASSAULT-VICTIM-large570This piece is an op-ed written by Joseph Rogers, and originally published on theorion.com. And I update this as a dedication to my missing friend, iDuke, once a victim of sexual assault, and every reader of Kito Diaries, man or woman, who has been violated sexually at one time or another in their lives.

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It does not always happen in an alley.

It does not always happen in the dark.

It does not always happen at knifepoint.

It does not always happen in the park.

It always leaves scars.

As difficult as it has been writing this, there’s a point — a perspective, mine and other men’s, that shouldn’t be silent.

One of the greatest men I know once told me if I really wish to make a difference in the world I have to tell my story.

Not the public story I share with others in polite arenas — the real, personal one. Continue reading

HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 13)

bigstock-happy-black-man-4158483Writer’s Note: There will be pauses in between the narration of this story, to analyze the things that got me suspicious.

It was a throbbing Thursday, and I just had to hold something that throbs, anything actually. My not-so-real name is Adrian anyway, and Christopher was my throbbing Thursday rendezvous.

Let’s go back to like few months before throbbing Thursday. Christopher and I had been chatting on Facebook for quite a while. I’d had my eyes on him for quite a while on the social media, but I didn’t know how to get him to look my way.

Then his father died! Yay, this was my chance. Okay, I didn’t mean to take advantage of a man’s death, but the heart wants what it wants. Mine wanted Christopher. Did I mention Christopher is over 6ft tall, light in complexion, well built, and when I say well built, I don’t mean the steroid-induced-well-built, I mean the evidence-of-good-workout-well-built. He always reminded me of a sculpture of a Greek god.

On the day his father died, he posted the info on Facebook. I promptly chatted him up. He responded. Before then, he had the habit of forming Mister Busy for me. Luckily for me, he had my time that day. I offered my condolences and I asked his permission to write a piece in honour of his father. He gave me the go-ahead. I put pen to paper and came up with something real, not too many smart words, and he loved it. He posted it on Facebook, and it got a lot of positive comments. We started chatting a lot more than before, and I was like, Mission accomplished. Continue reading