Main content

She got so confused. When she was a young girl, Geeske went for a walk with with a friend. They were going to explore the world. During their trip, they are approached by a man on a moped. A powerful blog about sexually transgressive behaviour and the confusion it generates.”I was barely four years old”.

Trigger warning: Blog contains language of a sexual nature

I was barely four years old

A little girl with long, wavy blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, wearing worn, denim dungarees. Slightly timid and as innocent as any child of that age. But at the same time, curious about the world around her. I am not the only one who wants to see more of the world. My friend is a little bit older than I am and just as lively.

When we are in our car-free street together

we are allowed to play in the play area. The houses in our neighbourhood were built five years ago. In the neighbourhood are multiple little playgrounds, and our young minds are well aware of that.

Skipping along, we decide to go to a play area a few streets back. In the alley between two streets we do roly-polies and practice a handstand against the house on the corner. We don’t manage to do the latter. There is however, a small rabbit run in the garden. The white rabbit in it must be hungry. The animal pushes its nose against the wire mesh as we get closer. We can see its little teeth when it greedily tries to catch our fingers. It must think our fingers are carrots! It makes us laugh, stupid rabbit! We picked all the dandelion leaves from the field and feed them all to the greedy rabbit. We stuff the leaves through the wire mesh in big bunches, where the rabbit can pull them out with little effort.

We took good care of the rabbit, we can move on

Now satisfied, we keep walking. It isn’t much further. The play area we are going to is around the same size as the one in our street. It has a climbing frame with big round poles, and a big sandpit. The area is tiled with grey, square tiles and is surrounded by bushes. There are dimples between some of the tiles, they are for playing marbles. There is a bench as well, its legs are made of grey concrete and the wooden slats of the seat and backrest are rough and worn out. The ageing wood has lots of cracks in it.

My friend and I walk around the high bushes around the play area. These shrubs hold lots of surprises for those who look for them. Lost marbles, pretty rocks, and even ladybirds!

We perk our ears

In the distance we hear the loud roar of a fast moped. The moped, a red and white Honda MTX, is coming in our direction. It is massive in our view. Mesmerised, we watch the moped. The driver accelerates. Apparently he has seen us standing there, even though we are very small. He brakes, drives onto the pavement, and enters our play area with slipping tires making lots of noise.

By now, my friend and I have gotten a little scared of his brusque approach. We are also very impressed with the huge, ear-deafening loud, roaring moped, and with the big boy who is riding it. I take my friend by the hand, and we quickly climb onto the rickety bench. I sit on the left, she is on my right.

Instinctively I sense that I’m in danger

My friend can feel it too. We don’t have to use our words to tell each other that we don’t want to be taken. We both pull our knees up and lean back, so we can grasp the backrest with our arms.  That way, we hold on tight to the bench. Like two frightened little birds. The driver finds this amusing. He makes the front wheel of his moped go up in the air right in front of us. The exhaust gas stinks terribly. I think it’s dirty. I wish I were back home.

The young man, around 20 years old, clearly gets bored, and opens his visor

“Who are you?” he asks us.

Two frightened little girls are entwined with the little bench. The man notices. He grins.

“Are you scared or something?” he asks.

We don’t answer him. He decides to provoke us a bit more.

“You can have a ride on my moped. We can go to the canal. I will show you my willy. You will be able to fit on the back.”

The two little girls on the bench don’t understand this man.

The bench stays the safest place for them. Our confusion is visible.

He continues: “Girls like touching my willy. They lick it too, like an ice lolly. They like doing that. They do it by the canal. You’re girls. You will play with my willy too. You’ll like it.”

Afterwards, he explains what we have to do at this spot, and how it is going to go.

He gets a little impatient. “Get on the back of the moped, then we can go.”

My confusion is complete

A willy like an ice lolly? I don’t believe for a minute that any girl would do that. It’s disgusting. He might as well have tempted me with a poo sandwich…I’m shaking with revulsion.  That scary man is telling really dirty jokes. I want to run away but am still too scared. My friend and I will not leave this bench.

After what seems an eternity the man is getting restless. Then, he turns his motorcycle around and speeds out of the playground. My friend and I immediately start running. Five minutes later, pugging and panting, we are back in our street. She runs off to her house and I run to mine.

I tiptoe into my house

My mother and father are both there. I make sure that I can address them, that they are calm. I take my chances. I tell my parents what happened. I tell them about the man on the moped, what he wanted from us, told them he wanted us to come to the canal with him. I even manage to tell them the really disgusting part about him wanting us to lick it, though I know talking about these things is strictly forbidden in our house. My parents are very brusque. They don’t want to hear anything about it. They are angry with me for telling them about this. I’m not allowed to talk about it any longer. It has to be kept quiet. And I am being sent upstairs for telling fibs.

This is my first experience with sexually transgressive behaviour. What I learned from this was that it must be kept quiet. And that, whatever the circumstances, it was your own fault and you mustn’t tell  a soul. It confused me.

However, my friend had a different experience

My friend told her parents what happened. They didn’t ignore or punish her. Her parents got on their bikes that same afternoon, to go and look for the perpetrator, and they called for assistance with it. They also reported it to the police, and even pressed formal charges. And they went to the local primary school to warn other people about this man.

As well as that, they were very angry and disappointed with my parents, who didn’t want to hear anything about it when they approached them. Her parents tried their best to not express any anger towards me about that. They didn’t fully succeed. I felt their struggle for years to come. Still confused.

Just two little girls on a bench.


Geeske is editor in chief at PsychoseNet and PsychosisNet.

More blogs

Photocredits: Geeske Roorda Fotografie
Translated from Dutch by SGM Taplin

 

Comments:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.