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Rape’s Other Victims

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Tiffany Perry, a child of rape, says that there are no services targeted to people conceived through sexual assault. (Photo by Tiffany Perry)

Tiffany Perry, a child of rape, says that there are no services targeted to people conceived through sexual assault. (Photo by Tiffany Perry)

By Jazelle Hunt
NNPA Washington Correspondent

SECOND IN A SERIES

WASHINGTON (NNPA) – The first time Tiffany Perry learned about her conception, she was too innocent to fully understand the gentle explanation her mother was offering, too young to process such a heavy and complicated behavior.

What she distinctly remembers is watching “Oprah” with her mom a few years later, as a 10-year-old. It was the television episode in which Oprah revealed to the world that she was a rape survivor.

“When [Oprah] said herself, and started crying…my mom just fell apart,” the 39-year-old Jersey City, N.J. native recounted. “I tried to console her, but she was inconsolable. It was just so intense.”

At 15 years old, Perry’s mother was raped by her foster mother’s 21-year-old married son. His wife had invited Perry’s mother into their home to babysit their child and to escape her foster mother’s wrath.

Her foster brother raped her repeatedly for two weeks, sometimes at knifepoint. Despite being a virgin at the time and under the care of the state, few people bothered to inquire about the details of the pregnancy. Plus, the fact that he had threatened to kill her, kept Perry’s mother silent.

“Maybe, as a Black person, they just saw this as another teenage pregnancy, and nobody really asked any questions,” Perry said, trying to explain the unexplainable. “I can’t say with certainty…but I’m thinking that if she was White in a foster home and her belly started to grow, then maybe a flag would’ve went up somewhere and somebody would’ve investigated more as to why this foster child is pregnant.”

In subsequent years, freed by the Oprah episode, Perry’s mother became more forthcoming.

“As I grew up, she told me more details of the attack. It was like she had been carrying this around the whole time.”
But opening that door triggered another set of emotions in Perry.

“I went through different feelings of inadequacy, feeling like I had to overcompensate because I was a child of a rape. Even now, when I say the word ‘inadequate,’ I get choked up,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“My mom was awesome, she never talked down to me….my mom always praised me, always gave me love,” Perry said. “But I felt like…I owed it to her to be perfect so she doesn’t feel like keeping me was a mistake.”

And there was the question of what she would say when asked about her father. Perry chose to say that he was dead, that he had left, or that she didn’t know him, depending on the questioner. But even while denying his existence, there was also a deep craving to know about this man, wherever he was.

Wanted to know her roots

More than anything else, she did not want her mother to feel badly.

“I didn’t rape her, but when I was younger, I used to feel like it was my fault,” she recalled. “The dreams that she probably could have fulfilled – if she had stayed that innocent virgin who wanted to be a lawyer – she wasn’t going to be able to fulfill those because I was here.”

Instead of pursuing her dreams, Perry’s mother had to shift her focus, looking after the needs of an infant rather than look forward to a career as an attorney.

“Sometimes she was a little more paranoid than I would think is regular,” Perry said. “When I was growing up my mom was so strict, or smothering, when it came down to me, particularly.”

Once, her mother sent her to the corner store for a few items. There, she ran into a family friend, an older man. He offered to buy her something – she chose cookies – and they parted ways.

She thought nothing of it – until her mother went into a rage.

“She flew off the handle. She beat me with an extension cord. And she told me, ‘Don’t ever accept anything from a man, they can’t be trusted, you don’t know their intentions.’ I’m six. I don’t have a clue what she is talking about.

“She cried. When I got older and reminded her about the incident, she explained to me that she didn’t trust anybody, she didn’t trust any man. And she wanted me to be extra careful. She wanted to put that fear in me.”

It instilled both fear and confusion, blurring the lines of what was acceptable with the boys and men in her world.

“It’s just assumed whenever a woman gets raped, she never gets pregnant, or if she does get pregnant, the child is automatically aborted or adopted,” she said. “There’s this group of people who’ve been conceived by rape and nobody ever discusses us. I want to talk about it because we exist. I exist.”

Unresolved trauma

Philadelphia-based author, activist, and scholar Ewuare Osayande wasn’t born of this violence, but also grew up in its shadow.

His mother spent her childhood at the mercy of a sexually abusive stepfather. The oldest of eight children, she was the only one who was not his blood-relative. The abuse was the family’s open secret. She grew up to date, marry, and divorce abusive men.

Justice Department data show that Black women are more likely than their White counterparts to be assaulted, sexually and otherwise by strangers and by family members.

“It was never the case where my mother cowered in the face of her abuse. She didn’t hold her tongue, she always spoke her mind,” Osayande said.

Today, Osayande is the creator of Project ONUS: Redefining Black Manhood, a series of anti-sexist workshops for Black men. It took time and life experiences before he was able to connect the dots and realize how his mother’s abuse – some he had witnessed, some he had not – had affected his own development.

“That processing has been life-long,” he explained. “I’m a divorcée. In that relationship, I found myself becoming like the men I swore for years I would never be. It never got to the point where I became physically abusive, but certainly emotionally abusive.”

As the son of a rape and abuse survivor, and as a formerly abusive person, he also realized he had to address his own internal conflicts and beliefs.

“It’s been a very real, clear determination on my part to make sense of the life I’ve experienced as a Black man, in a gendered way,” he explained. “It’s been my desire to become an effective ally in that struggle, in that engagement in the world in which Black women exist, and experience.”

Secondary survivors need help

In the sea of services for survivors, most resources geared toward family and friends coach them on how to best support the survivor in their life. Although crisis centers and hotlines are equipped to aid and counsel family and friends of survivors, few resources address the challenges these relatives face.

The book, I Will Survive: The African American Guide to Healing from Sexual Assault and Abuse, cites a study that draws parallels between the emotions of boyfriends and husbands of women who have been sexually assaulted, and the wives and girlfriends of war veterans.

“Not surprisingly, past or recent sexual trauma can present unique challenges for the survivor’s partner,” writes Lori Robinson, author of the book. “You are a victim too. Some experts call you the secondary victim. After all you are experiencing many of the same emotions sexual assault victims feel.”

Tiffany Perry’s breaking point came about 20 years ago. A probation officer contacted her out of the blue, looking for her father. He had given her name and birthdate as his next-of-kin. She learned that not only did he know about her, but he knew where she lived. To this day, the two live less than an hour apart. She has never contacted him, but has learned a bit about his life via a cousin and aunt on Facebook.

Perry’s mother remains her primary source of support.

“When I went to go look for support groups for children of rape victims or children conceived out of rape, they’re pretty much nonexistent,” Perry says. “[Rape] is so common we don’t even cringe when we hear about it. Rape is inhumane, and people are not treating it like it’s inhumane. They just treat it like ‘Well, it happens.’”

 

NEXT WEEK: Should we have faith in the faith community?


PART I: Rape and the myth of the “Strong Black Woman”

(The project was made possible by a grant from the National Health Journalism Fellowship, a program of the University of Southern California Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism.)

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Activism

OPINION: “My Girl,” The Temptations, and Nikki Giovanni

Giovanni was probably one of the most famous young African American women in the 1960s, known for her fiery poetry. But even that description is tame. The New York Times obit headline practically buried her historical impact: “Nikki Giovanni, Poet Who Wrote of Black Joy, Dies at 81.” That doesn’t begin to touch the fire of Giovanni’s work through her lifetime.

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Nikki Giovanni. Courtesy of Nikki-Giovanni.com
Nikki Giovanni. Courtesy of Nikki-Giovanni.com

By Emil Guillermo

The Temptations, the harmonizing, singing dancing man-group of your OG youth, were on “The Today Show,” earlier this week.

There were some new members, no David Ruffin. But Otis Williams, 83, was there still crooning and preening, leading the group’s 60th anniversary performance of “My Girl.”

When I first heard “My Girl,” I got it.

I was 9 and had a crush on Julie Satterfield, with the braided ponytails in my catechism class. Unfortunately, she did not become my girl.

But that song was always a special bridge in my life. In college, I was a member of a practically all-White, all-male club that mirrored the demographics at that university. At the parties, the song of choice was “My Girl.”

Which is odd, because the party was 98% men.

The organization is a little better now, with women, people of color and LGBTQ+, but back in the 70s, the Tempts music was the only thing that integrated that club.

POETRY’S “MY GIRL”

The song’s anniversary took me by surprise. But not as much as the death of Nikki Giovanni.

Giovanni was probably one of the most famous young African American women in the 1960s, known for her fiery poetry. But even that description is tame.

The New York Times obit headline practically buried her historical impact: “Nikki Giovanni, Poet Who Wrote of Black Joy, Dies at 81.”

That doesn’t begin to touch the fire of Giovanni’s work through her lifetime.

I’ll always see her as the Black female voice that broke through the silence of good enough.  In 1968, when cities were burning all across America, Giovanni was the militant female voice of a revolution.

Her “The True Import of Present Dialogue: Black vs. Negro,” is the historical record of racial anger as literature from the opening lines.

It reads profane and violent, shockingly so then. These days, it may seem tamer than rap music.

But it’s jarring and pulls no punches. It protests Vietnam, and what Black men were asked to do for their country.

“We kill in Viet Nam,” she wrote. “We kill for UN & NATO & SEATO & US.”

Written in 1968, it was a poem that spoke to the militancy and activism of the times. And she explained herself in a follow up, “My Poem.”

“I am 25 years old, Black female poet,” she wrote referring to her earlier controversial poem. “If they kill me. It won’t stop the revolution.”

Giovanni wrote more poetry and children’s books. She taught at Rutgers, then later Virginia Tech where she followed her fellow professor who would become her spouse, Virginia C. Fowler.

Since Giovanni’s death, I’ve read through her poetry, from what made her famous, to her later poems that revealed her humanity and compassion for all of life.

In “Allowables,” she writes of finding a spider on a book, then killing it.

And she scared me
And I smashed her
I don’t think
I’m allowed
To kill something
Because I am
Frightened

For Giovanni, her soul was in her poetry, and the revolution was her evolution.

About the Author

Emil Guillermo is a journalist, commentator, and solo performer. Join him at www.patreon.com/emilamok 

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Black History

Book Review: In Slavery’s Wake: Making Black Freedom in the World

It’s a tale of heroes: the Maroons, who created communities in unwanted swampland, and welcomed escaped slaves into their midst; Sarah Baartman, the “Hottentot Venus”; Marème Diarra, who walked more than 2000 miles from Sudan to Senegal with her children to escape slavery; enslaved farmers and horticulturists; and everyday people who still talk about slavery and what the institution left behind.

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Book cover. Courtesy of Smithsonian Books.
Book cover. Courtesy of Smithsonian Books.

By Terri Schlichenmeyer

Ever since you learned how it happened you couldn’t get it out of your mind.

People, packed like pencils in a box, tightly next to each other, one by one by one, tier after tier. They couldn’t sit up, couldn’t roll over or scratch an itch or keep themselves clean on a ship that took them from one terrible thing to another. And in the new book In Slavery’s Wake,” essays by various contributors, you’ll see what trailed in waves behind those vessels.

You don’t need to be told about the horrors of slavery. You’ve grown up knowing about it, reading about it, thinking about everything that’s happened because of it in the past four hundred years. And so have others: in 2014, a committee made of “key staff from several world museums” gathered to discuss “telling the story of racial slavery and colonialism as a world system…” so that together, they could implement a “ten-year road map to expand… our practices of truth telling…”

Here, the effects of slavery are compared to the waves left by a moving ship, a wake the story of which some have tried over time to diminish.

It’s a tale filled with irony. Says one contributor, early American Colonists held enslaved people but believed that King George had “unjustly enslaved” the colonists.

It’s the story of a British company that crafted shackles and cuffs and that still sells handcuffs “used worldwide by police and militaries” today.

It’s a tale of heroes: the Maroons, who created communities in unwanted swampland, and welcomed escaped slaves into their midst; Sarah Baartman, the “Hottentot Venus”; Marème Diarra, who walked more than 2000 miles from Sudan to Senegal with her children to escape slavery; enslaved farmers and horticulturists; and everyday people who still talk about slavery and what the institution left behind.

Today, discussions about cooperation and diversity remain essential.

Says one essayist, “… embracing a view of history with a more expansive definition of archives in all their forms must be fostered in all societies.”

Unless you’ve been completely unaware and haven’t been paying attention for the past 150 years, a great deal of what you’ll read inside “In Slavery’s Wake” is information you already knew and images you’ve already seen.

Look again, though, because this comprehensive book isn’t just about America and its history. It’s about slavery, worldwide, yesterday and today.

Casual readers – non-historians especially – will, in fact, be surprised to learn, then, about slavery on other continents, how Africans left their legacies in places far from home, and how the “wake” they left changed the worlds of agriculture, music, and culture. Tales of individual people round out the narrative, in legends that melt into the stories of others and present new heroes, activists, resisters, allies, and tales that are inspirational and thrilling.

This book is sometimes a difficult read and is probably best consumed in small bites that can be considered with great care to appreciate fully. Start “In Slavery’s Wake,” though, and you won’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Edited by Paul Gardullo, Johanna Obenda, and Anthony Bogues, Author: Various Contributors, c.2024, Smithsonian Books, $39.95

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Black History

Ashleigh Johnson: Pioneering the Way in Water Polo

Ashleigh Johnson attended Princeton University, where she played for the Tigers and dominated collegiate water polo. During her time at Princeton, she became the program’s all-time leader in saves and was recognized for her extraordinary ability to anticipate plays and block shots. She was a three-time All-American and was pivotal in leading her team to multiple victories. Balancing rigorous academics and athletics, she graduated with a degree in Psychology, showcasing her determination both in and out of the pool.

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Ashleigh Johnson Photo: collegiatewaterpolo.org
Ashleigh Johnson Photo: collegiatewaterpolo.org

By Tamara Shiloh

Ashleigh Johnson has become a household name in the world of water polo, not only for her incredible athleticism and skill but also for breaking barriers as the first Black woman to represent the United States in the sport at the Olympic level. Her journey begins as a determined young athlete to a record-breaking goalkeeper.

Born on September 12, 1994, in Miami, Florida, Ashleigh grew up in a family that valued sports and academics. She attended Ransom Everglades School, where she was introduced to water polo. Despite water polo being a niche sport in her community, she quickly stood out for her remarkable agility, intelligence, and reflexes. Her unique skill set made her a natural fit for the demanding role of a goalkeeper.

Ashleigh attended Princeton University, where she played for the Tigers and dominated collegiate water polo. During her time at Princeton, she became the program’s all-time leader in saves and was recognized for her extraordinary ability to anticipate plays and block shots. She was a three-time All-American and was pivotal in leading her team to multiple victories. Balancing rigorous academics and athletics, she graduated with a degree in Psychology, showcasing her determination both in and out of the pool.

In 2016, Ashleigh made history as the first Black woman to be selected for the U.S. Olympic Water Polo Team. Representing her country at the Rio Olympics, she played a crucial role in helping Team USA secure the gold medal. Her stellar performances earned her the distinction of being named the tournament’s top goalkeeper, further cementing her status as one of the best players in the sport’s history.

Ashleigh didn’t just stop at one Olympic appearance. She continued her dominance in water polo, playing a key role in Team USA’s gold medal win at the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Her ability to remain composed under pressure and deliver outstanding saves in crucial moments made her an irreplaceable member of the team.

At the age of 29, Johnson appeared in her third Olympiad in Paris at the 2024 Summer Olympics. Their first match was against Greece and the US team won easily and Johnson only gave up 4 points. U.S. Olympic head coach Adam Krikorian shared, “She’s an incredible athlete. She’s got great hand-eye coordination, great reflexes and reactions. And then she’s fiercely competitive – fiercely. And you would never know it by her demeanor or by the huge smile on her face. But to us, on the inside, we know how driven she is to be one of the best ever to do it.”

Team USA Women’s Water Polo ended their Olympic season in fourth place after a 10 – 11 loss to the Netherlands. Johnson only allowed 37 percent of the shots from the Netherlands.

Beyond her achievements in the pool, Ashleigh has used her platform to advocate for diversity in water polo and sports in general. As a trailblazer, she recognizes the importance of representation and works to encourage young athletes, particularly those from underrepresented backgrounds, to pursue their dreams.

Ashleigh has spoken about the challenges she faced as a Black woman in a predominantly white sport and how she turned those obstacles into opportunities for growth.

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