The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [55]
If you were looking for someone to give you an example of misogyny, my family would be the prime illustration. My male cousins were advised, “Make sure you put a hat on that Jimmy!” or “Get as many girls as possible!” Because I’m the only girl in my family, the only advice I was given was to keep my legs closed. Therefore, when I lost my virginity, it was the end of the world.
My boyfriend and I had been together for two years before we decided to have sex. Then when it came time for what was supposed to be my special moment, I thought there would be caressing and passionate kisses. Instead, it was a five-minute bang, bang, bang. I looked at him after we were finished and asked him, “Is that it?” I thought losing my virginity was something that would be worth while. Instead, it’s something I now regret.
Now I’m not a virgin and everyone looks at me as though I am a tramp or a ho. Of course, if I were male, I would be congratulated. I wish that things were different, but they aren’t.
Diary 62
Dear Diary,
Today marks a turning point in my life. As soon as I walked into Ms. G’s second period class, I picked up The Color Purple, a novel written by Alice Walker. I began to read, kept reading, read some more, and found myself unable to put it down. It was so intense and complex. I read slowly, wondering who she was, where she had gone. I’d never seen her before, had never been where she’d been. Yet in the midst of it all, Celie seemed strangely familiar. Life wasn’t easy for Celie, but she knew how to survive. She needed little to get by. Come to think of it, I do know who Celie is…
My Uncle Joe was unlike any other uncle. He was nice, caring, a good listener, understanding, very handsome, and best of all, he always knew just what to say whenever I was miserable. He was always there for me when I needed a warm, sincere, loving hug. Basically, he was my hero. I loved Uncle Joe with all my heart.
We lived in a very small apartment complex, so Uncle Joe, my younger brothers, and I all slept in the living room. Moonlight filled our tiny room and the scent of a freshly cut Christmas tree filled my nostrils. Life couldn’t have been better, or so I thought…
“Hmm? What is that? Who’s touching me?” Whatever it was, I didn’t like it…it was Uncle Joe. What was he doing to me? Whatever it was, I wanted him to stop. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn’t come. It was as if a ton of bricks had fallen on me, knocking the air from my lungs, making me unable to speak.
I felt his body right next to mine and his breathing got stronger and stronger. He was touching me in places I didn’t know could make me feel so dirty. I didn’t move a muscle. I made my body as hard as a rock, as he slowly slid his hand up my shirt caressing my back and the side of my breasts. He kept on trying to make me lie on my back, but he was unsuccessful.
He got closer and closer. I could actually feel his skin touching mine. The feel of his sweat and his lips on my skin made me want to cry. A gigantic lump formed in my throat and to this day, nothing makes it go away. Uncle Joe wasn’t being rough with me, which made it hard for me to decide whether or not what he was doing to me was wrong. It tore me up inside to think he would actually do me any harm. I was only a little girl, but I knew what he was doing was wrong. But why? Uncle Joe is the most righteous person I’ve ever met…After Uncle Joe invaded me, he got up for a drink of water. As soon as I heard the water running in the kitchen, my hatred for him grew. It was as if he was thirsty and exhausted from fulfilling himself and making