Sunday, August 30, 2009

Bit Of Prose

So I read somewhere that a BNP ex-minister said that rape was like force-feeding a woman chocolate cake. Here's my response to that. Fair warning, the following is graphic.

Mango sorbet is wonderful. Or it used to be. I haven't had it in a while. Used to take great pleasure in sharing a cone, or a bowl, with my boyfriend. After we broke up I spent a few evenings eating sorbet with people I knew as acquaintances. It still tasted great, even though the atmosphere was different. Still melted on my tongue and made me coo with pleasure.

Then one night at a party I slipped up. Someone offered me lime sorbet and I turned it down. It's not as good, you see. Not to me anyway. I only said I didn't like lime flavour so I should have been clearer.

I wish I'd been clearer.

A few drinks later I woke up in a room with the Icecream Man and a few of his friends. I can't count how many. One had a scoop out and was smearing mango sorbet over my mouth. The cold made my teeth ache, my brain ache. It wrapped around me like a wet blanket and constricted. They were all so big standing around the bed. I couldn't talk because my lips were frozen. I couldn't tell them I was scared, that it hurt my teeth because it was so cold. Frozen.

One shoved a cone of sorbet into my mouth. It splintered, sharp little edges biting into my gums to make me bleed. He wouldn't stop. I choked on it as the scratches oozed blood. Oh god, oh god. My eyes stung with tears as I fought to breathe past my icy windpipe. It felt like I'd inhaled a whole scoop of sorbet which clung to the inside of my lungs. So cold.

My lips split, one gouged by a further shove of the cone when it was struck by a metal scoop. And struck again as they packed more sorbet into me. I couldn't taste the mango through the blood any more.

The Icecream Man and his friends took turns to force more sorbet into me. It was all I could do to swallow rather than choke. I just wanted them to empty the tub and be done.

I vomited most of it up afterwards, cones, blood and all. I was so ashamed. Why didn't I just say no? Scream it? Fight?

The next day saw me go through an entire tube of toothpaste and half a bottle of mouthwash. It hurt, but it helped. Somewhat. I could still taste the residue no matter how much I scrubbed or garbled and spat. It clung to my teeth like glue, and it felt like my whole head was on fire. It wouldn't go away.

Two years on and I can't stomach mango sorbet. My chest goes tight every time I smell it, or see someone eating it. Please don't feed me again.


  1. Wow, this really happened? I'm sorry to hear that.

    Also this "a BNP ex-minister said that raping a woman was like force feeding her chocolate cake" or whatever the full line was....

    my response is what about those of us who can't eat chocolate or those who can't have sugar? is rape then still the same?

    in either case the person who said it is full of shit.

  2. Not to me, but I know people who've found themselves in that kind of situation.

    And oh yes. He is full of shit. The sort of shit I wouldn't mind beating out of him with steel-capped boots.

  3. I agree with steel-capped-boots justice.