I came with instructions pinned to my shirt when I arrived.
Not on paper, but in a small pendant
nothing fancy
aluminum that would tingle in your mouth.
The Virgin Mary with stars over her head,
holding a baby.
On the back, three words:
Protect Me Everywhere
Simple instructions.
At twelve, my amom and the old man took me to California.
I was so excited to see where the stars lived.
I wanted to stand outside a studio,
See how movies were made,
But I didn’t get to do that.
The adopter and the old man went to a meeting.
I got left with a stranger called “Uncle” Jerry
and his wife, Rose.
I wouldn’t call him an uncle.
He was only a man my adopted mom claimed was her brother.
By twelve, the voices in my head had grown older, but the fear hadn’t. I didn’t know him,
or Rose.
Rose took me shopping
and bought me a white outfit.
I’d never be able to keep clean.
Jerry took me to Disneyland
the happiest place on earth.
On every ride
I sat in front of him.
Arms reached around.
Hands grabbed my crotch,
pushed my butt into his groin.
Every single ride.
Back at their house,
the three of us watched TV.
Rose went to bed.
Jerry sat too close,
rubbing the same patch of my arm
over and over.
I don’t like to be touched.
It’s very well documented.
I kept trying to get him to stop rubbing my arm.
It was hurting my skin.
He kissed me like an adult. My first kiss. A kiss I didn’t like.
In my head I begged Rose to wake up,
to come out of the bedroom and save me.
I had never been in such a position.
I didn’t know the neighbors.
I didn’t even know what city I was in.
My twelve-year-old brain
did the only thing it could:
I said I had to pee
and locked myself in the bathroom.
I slept on the bath mat on the tile floor.
My amom and the old man returned the next day.
We had one more night to stay.
I tried to make it clear,
without being rude to an “elder,”
that I wanted nothing to do with “uncle” Jerry.
At bedtime my amom and the old man
slept safely in the guest room
the room where I should have been the night before.
I was left on the couch,
like leaving the toddler back on the train tracks.
He came, sat beside me. Too close.
“I did it because you look so much like Rose.”
Then he left.
Rose was a fat sixty-year-old Mexican woman.
I was a tiny twelve-year-old little Indian girl.
We were not the same.
On the plane home my amom asked
how I liked California.
I said I hated it.
I never wanted to go back.
At home I confided in Courtney.
She said, tell adopted mom, she’ll believe you.
But my adopted mom didn’t.
Even though she knew of the issues of this when they were young.
She instead blamed a child. Little Courtney for “putting the idea” in my head.
She didn’t protect me.
She didn’t follow the simple instructions
I’d come to this country with:
protect me everywhere.
This time it wasn’t just my body remembering.
It was my brain.
I knew two things:
I had to get away from this woman,
and she was not safe.
I recanted as many children who are not believe do.
I was maybe thirteen, maybe younger,
when the old man showed his other side.
I was at the dining table with my binder open.
My amom demanded to see it.
I refused.
I don’t know why. It felt invasive.
He stepped in.
I told him to “Fuck off.”
His ringed hand cracked against my head,
cutting my scalp.
My amom only said, “no, don’t.”
Another day I didn’t swallow my vitamins fast enough.
He yanked me off the couch
and threw me onto the coffee table.
I told my school counselor.
Nobody protected me.
Nobody believed me.
I was labeled a liar.
So I recanted,
like so many kids do
just to keep the peace.
I asked my adad if I could live with him,
like my brothers got to.
He had the evil stepmother tell me no.
I knew I wasn’t safe.
I knew I wasn’t protected.
But there was nowhere to go.
So I wrapped myself in drawing,
the one thing they pushed me to do.
I planned my escape in pencil lines and painted swirls.
College would be my way out.
But even college didn’t free me.
When most young adults got more freedom,
I got less.
The pendant said protect me everywhere.
But what I got was the opposite.
I was now treated as a liar as well.
Now my body remembers.
Now my brain remembers.
And both remember what no one else would face:
I was left unprotected.
Nobody followed the directions.
Protect me everywhere