A friend of my parents would take me on motorcycle rides around the neighbourhood and make me sit on his penis. He would kiss me goodbye and slip his tongue inside my mouth. When I was eight or nine I had to do something about it. I went and sat on his lap and showed him my swiss army knife and told him that I kept it to kill anyone who harmed my younger sister. I was terrified.
A very elderly cook who would stand close to me and fondle my breasts. I was 15. He lacked all vitality, I could have broken him over my knee, but I froze and had no idea how to respond.
The people I confided in are dead, I’m the only one who remembers.
I doubt there are many Pakistani women who don’t have such memories. I got off easier than many I know . I have no scars and even the anger I felt for years afterwards is a memory now, replaced with sadness at a society that breaks men, but it should not have been done to a child.