So now that we’re starting down the shitty broken road of my past, let me make some things clear about child sex trafficking. Some will be fact, most will be my own opinion or feelings on the subject and the issues at hand, that kind of coincide with the exploitation of children.
I’m aware that some people who have known me all my life, or for more than 6-7 years, will have their own opinions of me, and of my actions in the past. I was a promiscuous girl, and most of the time, I had no shame in this. I’ve watched over the years, especially since becoming an adult and a mother, that people have some strong, and usually sad opinions about young girls who have sex, especially if these girls are promiscuous in their actions. Here’s my issue with this type of mindset: young girls who are putting themselves in harms way, sexually, are children. Their brains are not fully developed, specifically their frontal lobes, and therefore, their ability to make decisions responsibly and understand the consequences is not developed.
In this article published via NPR, a neurologist names Jenson goes on to explain the frontal lobe of a teen and how it’s not developed in the way that an adult’s would be. (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124119468)
So where does this leave my opinion on the opinions of others? I fear that a lot of people will not take my journey seriously because of the actions of my past. Should this bother me? No. Will it? Most definitely. People who’ve known me in my childhood will look back and think “This girl was a hoe. She was really easy and she made really shitty decisions…and she slept with everyone I know.” And they’re going to be right about one thing. I did in fact sleep with EVERYONE that I knew, and the people that THOSE people knew. I gave no fucks. I did not care about the consequences, and I found it exceptionally easy to find guys that would sleep with me. I had no idea then, what the scars would feel like now. I had no idea that it would ever lead to me meeting two pimps who would gladly exploit a child who just wanted to be loved. I don’t know why, I don’t know exactly what I was lacking, I’ve kind of always assumed it was my father’s death that lead to the majority of the decisions I made. Sometimes I find myself thinking that maybe even though my father tried really hard to make me a lady, to put the fear of God into me if I ever had sex, he never bothered to teach me self respect. He never taught me my own self worth. And others may read this and think, “Hey, you had plenty of healthy examples in your life. You were from a good church going family, and they loved you, and they cared!”. I don’t think it was enough. I think outside influences may have been what saved my life, over and over. But I don’t think they penetrated through 12 years of not-so-awesome parenting to make a difference in how I perceived myself. And after he died? Well, then there was one parent left, and I’m not entirely sure WHEN she lost her damn mind, but it was long before I was born. And that my sweet cheeks, is for a story for another day.