Stories are written by people who don’t necessarily work or study in fields related to sexology. They convey emotions, perceptions, and subjective perspectives. Opinions voiced in the stories are those of their authors, and in no way represent the position of Les 3 sex*.

Ce témoignage est aussi disponible en français [➦].

Translated by Gabrielle Baillargeon-Michaud.

I was walking with two boys, one on either side of me, close to my shoulders, and I did not like it one bit.

If that doesn’t explain enough, I’ll elaborate.

The first boy was very young, younger than me. He wasn’t fully aware of what it meant to be cruel yet. I imagine he felt a natural repulsion towards it, but he was quickly learning to ignore that instinct. The other boy was older; eighteen or nineteen, something like that. He had a tiny nose, like a button, and a big round chin.

We were walking together, forming a somewhat strange trio. Honestly, I just wanted to get home. As for them, I really didn’t care to know why they were there.

Earlier, we were at the Kowalskys, the other Polish family, besides my own, living in this small Canadian village.

There was some kind of BBQ at the Kowalskys’, a party of sorts. My father, who for once on that day found no reason to argue with Mr. Kowalski (almost miraculously), was there.

I remember feeling somewhat bored at this adult party, so I quietly announced that I was going home.

“What? Why? You’re going to walk? It’s way too far!”

“And alone? That’s dangerous!”

I didn’t point out that I managed just fine walking alone quite often, especially when they weren’t around to fuss over it. And besides, we lived in a small village. You could explore all its streets in just a day, and I had spent several years walking them.

Still, I knew I could sneak away, incognito, while they would still be seriously discussing the dangers of walking alone by the time I was halfway home. I was already by the door when the big buffoon, the older boy, blurted out, “Oh, but Panie Kuras, Darek and I could escort your daughter home.”

“Oh yes! Of course! What a great idea! Magda! Where are you? Come here! The boys will walk you home!” my father cheerfully exclaimed as he looked around to find me.

“Ah crap, I really don’t need this right now.” I’m sure such a thought crossed my mind at that moment. I began to voice it aloud, but then a whole group of old men and boys converged on me. So, reluctantly, I agreed, though I shot them an angry look.

And so we, the unwilling trio, set off towards Magda’s house. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, aside from the buffoon’s comments.

“And what if we turn left here? This street will lead us to the lake! We could go see the lake!”

“Hey, you know, if we turn left we could go for a swim.”

“Hey, you know, you could go skinny-dipping!”

“Alright, not completely, but at least to see some breasts, right? What if we turned left here? Alright, alright, maybe at the next street.”

I just quickened my pace. I’m not quite sure what was going through my mind, but I laughed. I suppose I wanted to feign control over the situation. I couldn’t show that I was nervous.

Darek, the younger one, laughed as well.

We were passing a small park, Lion’s Park, when the big one grabbed my hand, “Hey Magda, we’re really tired; you walk fast for a girl! Are you in a hurry to get home?”

He pulled me towards a dark blue plastic bench, “Okay, no problem,” I thought to myself, “It’s true, I was practically running,” “We can stop for a minute,” “There’s no problem, there are three of us after all,” “There’s no problem.”

We all sat there for a few seconds when I threw out a quick, “So, shall we go?” I started to get up, but suddenly the big one was over me, his two hands on my shoulders, me sitting on the bench, him standing.

Panic! Panic! Major panic!

I tried again to stand up, but the big idiot pressed his arms against the bench behind me, pinning me in a kind of flesh-made prison.

All I could see was the fabric of his t-shirt, everything was red, but in sheer panic, I spotted a beam of light to my right and shoved an arm through it—I know karate, you know. I pinched his arm, which immediately gave way, allowing me to escape the bench.

It would have been nice if it had actually gone like that, but in reality, I was there for several seconds, feebly punching at a gorilla arm that absolutely refused to budge.

Finally, with a bit of laughter, he released me and I immediately leaped from the bench and continued walking at full speed, without them, my face all red.

Too bad.

They followed me, both laughing.

“Hey, calm down! We were just kidding! Hey, wait up!”

I kept walking straight ahead, as fast as I could.

Too bad.

They still followed.

“Fuck. Off.”

Those words came out on their own, calm, yet ominous. They laughed. “Oh Magda! Why say that? Come on! Why are you getting so angry?”

Furious, oblivious to everything, I finally reached my home, storming through the door. Yes, both boys were still following me and entered right after. But no, it wasn’t like that; the younger one waited outside. He felt they didn’t belong in my parents’ house, but he didn’t dare say it to the big one, who refused to leave.

Just then, I tried to say goodbye, and push the fool towards the door, but he kept repeating that he wouldn’t leave until I gave him a kiss, “to thank him for escorting me home safely.”

“No, please! Leave, my mother could come back at any moment and you can’t be here!” Of course, my mother wasn’t coming back at all; she was sound asleep in her room and I think he knew it, because he wouldn’t budge.

I began to push him more firmly towards the still slightly open door, but he stood in the entrance, hands against each side, like a cement wall!

“Come on! Just a little kiss for me.”

This ridiculous game couldn’t last, but it dragged on for several agonizing minutes, and especially as panic started to set in again, I relented and gave him a quick peck right at the corner of his big red lips.

“Ha, no! What was that?” he quickly leaned over me to force his red and rough lips against mine, forcing his tongue between my teeth, and then he stood up smiling and left without a word. I locked the door.

I understood shame. In that small, ordinary moment, in that little moment that was nothing serious, I experienced the pain and horror of all the people in the world who have been raped. It’s not just the shame of the physical act that silences us; it’s the shame that your anger and distress do not affect the other; do nothing to disturb them while you are about to explode. And so, you are forced to swallow your own anger, your own shame. 

It was my first kiss, I was fourteen. I was white as a ghost and sweaty. How romantic.