nali

Hello

I am a college graduate of the child and youth worker program. I have worked (and currently work) in my field for well over a decade. I'm a 36 year old South American born transplant, raised in Hamilton, Ontario.

I was conceived in a non-consensual manner (date rape) after my parents went on ONE date back in Georgetown, Guyana. My mother chose to have me and I lived with her for the first 3 years of my life.

Unfortunately, after to moving to Canada my fathers mother, (my grandmother) used his signature to adopt me while she had me on a 2 week visit she asked my mother for. This crushed my mother who never fully recovered from the incident although she went on to have two other children. My mother could not legally regain custody of me. My grandmother even proudly declared "she's mine" after waving the adoption paper in my mothers face. She would hang up on my mother when my mother called the house to talk to me and tell me "that's not your mom, that's your aunts and they are playing tricks on you".

My grandmother was evil, but my grandfather was a very good man. And I loved her because I understood her and where she came from. Plus my grandad loved her and later in life he would have wanted me to take care of her, which I did. It was rewarding for both of us.

At the time in Ontario you could adopt a child with one parents signature. So my grandmother did. I was raised by my fathers parents. My father visited on weekends and shifted to the role of 'older brother who buys you things and picks on you' although I continued to call him "daddy". My grandparents, were loving and devoted and my grandmother was strict. My grandfather made my life filled with unconditional love. They took me camping every summer of my childhood for the whole 2 months in the woods of Ontario which is why I love the wilderness and somewhat why I am a redneck. They both instilled a sense of self esteem and strength that has kept me alive to this day.

My grandfather passed away first when I was 13. When I was 14 my father (who I was unaware was a rapist) moved in with my grandmother and I. He decided that I should do what he said, and could not understand my skipping school because I was despondent over my grandfathers death. Imagine, losing the only father you've ever known, who raised and protected you.

An interesting note is that I skipped school to go into the woods and sit and draw, read and listen to music to deal with my overwhelming loss and sadness.

He did the only thing he wanted to. He started hitting me. At first it was just discipline. But then it became fun, for him at least. He would often say "it's better than cable" or "if you want me to get drunk and hit you I can, but it's fun for me sober". After a year one day I hit him back and declared something to the affect that 'now it's interesting'.

My 6' 2", very fit father fought 14 year old girl me for 2 years. Till one day I tried to put his eye out with a pen while he was feeding me shots (punches) over the kitchen sink. He was floored when he saw his own blood and the power shifted from his control to mine.

A neighbour witnessed him dragging me out of our house in the affluent suburbs one night by the neck. He called out that my father "shouldn't be doing that" and my dad let go.

The police were charmed by him and his reputation and I obviously fit the criteria for a "troubled youth" so they did not help me when I called him. Also ironically years of play fighting with him left me unable to bruise and never showing a mark. Dark skin helps to hide anything as well.

I eventually left home at 16 because I realized if he didn't kill me, I was going to kill him.

Neither outcome was very appealing to me.

One thing I can say is that the "human monster" that is my biological "father" taught me how to fight. Our family last name translates to mean "Brave" and I definitely am. There is a level of seriousness and a tone of voice I employ when I feel disrespected that comes directly from my violent East Indian bloodlines.

The northern pike of fathers made me a fearless woman. I'm not even afraid of him anymore and I'm not angry at it anymore. It was just some stuff that happened. A lot of counselling through local Native Indian services on the Six Nations in Ontario during my college years helped immensely to change my attitude. My counsellors were strong, fearless women who had also suffered abuse and lived hard lives. They were also genuine and authentic and I am eternally grateful to them.

I've come to appreciate the character that hardship develops in people, and I've come to love my life for the good parts and the evil bits as well.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Nali