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I Cried As If I Were His Daughter

Cara

This video comes with a VERY STRONG TRIGGER WARNING, as the poem performed here by Jasmine Mans contains graphic descriptions of rape.  But like Renee, who led me to the video, I feel like it must be shared.  I do in fact believe that while sharing our stories about sexual violence can be deeply triggering, it can also be deeply healing.  And they’re stories that need to be told.

Just wow.

UPDATE: Transcript below.  Big huge thanks to Renee for doing it.

I Cried As If I Were His Daughter  (transcript)

He held my fingers to my mouth and said hush little girl because right now only me and you exist in this world. He took off his pants and began unzipping mine. I cried while thinking this isn’t the way I envisioned my first time but when I saw the blood pore from my legs, I thought if it wasn’t me the tears another girl would shed. I looked him in his eyes and realized that he was old enough to be someone’s father, so I cried as if I was his daughter, as I felt my insides being slaughtered. I cried like she cried at night, locking her door praying for the illuminating existence of sunlight because when night came he came, pain came. Hoping that a bath could wash away the shame, hoping that a bath could wash away the sores that her vagina bore when her hymen was torn. Her bath washed away the semen but it didn’t wash away the memories of when he forced her to get on her knees and suck his – so I cried as if I was his daughter because of that rage and that possible AIDS between my legs, it could never add up to her pain, her distortion and her three different abortions and that one suicide not that she wrote saying mom, “I gotta go, don’t find out why I did this I love you. Even though I felt all alone just find a way to continue to be strong.” As he rammed his fingers in me I thought of reaching in my heart and pulling out my soul, now my ninety-eight point six degree body turned cold. I cried as if I was his daughter, lying there trying to hide her privates. This gave her reason to believe that God didn’t exist. Her mother knew that she heard sounds in the other room but she forced herself to believe that they were only cartoons as he licked my body up and down. I hope that he would ejaculate enough that in his own semen he would drown. He carved his name in my uterus so that my first born child could on be as cursed as ..inaudible.. thinking that this only happened in movies, she was the main character in the (inaudible) when she cried and he opened her credits. Too scared of the night, that is why she wished for ongoing sunlight. When he got off me I swear, I stabbed myself like his daughter cried because another pain wouldn’t feel good right now. I stabbed myself like his daughter cried because I could no longer look in the mirror. I stabbed myself like his daughter cried for him making me want to be gay. I stabbed myself like his daughter cried over the 160 babies that would be raped the next day. I cried as if I was he daughter because of that rage, that possible AIDS between my legs it could never add up to her pain, her distortion her three different abortions . That one suicide note that she wrote saying, Mom I gotta go. Don’t find out why I did this, I love you. Even though I know all along, but honestly nothing more tragic could help me write a better poem . I looked him in his eyes and realized that he was old enough to be someone’s father, but I looked him in his eyes and realized that he was old enough to be someone’s father, so Mom I died because I was his daughter.

24 thoughts on I Cried As If I Were His Daughter

  2. What struck me about that video was not so much the words but the movement, cadence, and tone. If you want to tell a story about surviving with any sense of literalism you will, sadly, always end up telling an old story. And its easy to divorce yourself from what you’re hearing when its just words you’ve heard in a slightly different order than when you heard them before. But the way this woman moved and spoke, the way she delivered the words, well you can’t really describe that.

    I wonder how aware of herself she was as she performed that piece. Her eyes seemed far away and at times she moved away from the mic so that she was barely audible. It reminded me of the first time I performed a song about my own experience as a survivor. I was so damn terrified of what people would think, so afraid, so ashamed, but too determined to speak to back down. I remember my mouth starting to move and my hands on the mic stand, and then suddenly it was just me. My memory of the performance is still a bit shaky, more images and affects than the narrative I’m used to. I’ve seen video of the show and it doesn’t quite feel real. When it was over I felt lighter than I had in ages but I owed the manager a new stand and needed peroxide for my palms. Maybe I’m just projecting, but the woman in the video seemed to me to be in the midst of a similar (if somewhat less demonstrably violent) experience. I’d like to know how she felt after she walked off the stage.

  3. Amazing and powerful. Need a few tissues after that.

    Also, I forgot the first rule of YouTube: Don’t read YouTube comments. Seriously, don’t because they’ll just piss you off. :-\

  4. Uh oh. Yeah, I hadn’t read the comments, and don’t plan on it . . . but it really pains me to think that people would even be assholes on this particular video. God.

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  7. Her name is Jasmine Mans, and she performed this piece at the 2008 Urban Word NYC Teen Poetry Slam Finals. So, she is a teenager, then.

    I’m glad you posted this, and I was blown away too, but it sometimes rubs me the wrong way when these kinds of videos are posted without crediting the author (especially as this information is easily available on YouTube). Something about the language of “sharing our stories” can sometimes detract from this person’s specificity and context. And while it can be healing to hear stories with which we can relate, I wanna be careful not to appropriate them by calling them “our stories” or failing to credit the person who performed this amazing piece.

  9. I liked it, but it was hard to hear. And when you’re craning to put your ear close to the speaker, it loses some of the power. :-\

  13. Hey folks, I’m deleting your comments criticizing Moopaw at 12 for a reason.

    I honestly don’t have time to make a transcript right now. But jumping on someone for asking for text for a video is not cool. It never is. You don’t know why sie can’t access it. You don’t know that “finding another computer” is that easy, and it says something of your privilege that you think it is. (Before you jump on that — have you seen the computers at a lot of libraries? Or realize you’d need to have headphones to use them?)

    You also don’t know that “finding another computer” would do the trick. People are deaf or hearing impaired, you know. You don’t know if that applies to Moopaw. You don’t. You just fucking don’t. And saying things about how you need to hear the video to get the video as though sound is the only way that something can be comprehended is yet again showing your privilege. So seriously? Shut up an examine yourselves.

    If anyone has or is willing to make a transcript for the video I’d be incredibly grateful. I know that some of the words are difficult to make out, so it might not be so easy. But all the same, I’m going to keep deleting comments from people who want to be assholes about their superior video accessibility. And I’m sorry I had to write this comment, Moopaw.

  15. People piled on about Moopaw’s comment? Jesus… The internets certainly bring out a certain type of…assholery. Wow…

  16. A couple of people did, yeah. And unfortunately I see it happening all the time on other blogs when someone asks for a transcript, too.

  19. Another thanks for the transcript. I do my blog reading while the baby sleeps, and he’s a light sleeper.

    So there, another reason why one might not get to listen to the poem as it was posted.

  20. I am deaf, and I saw this entry a while ago, but I was disappointed that I couldn’t see what it was all about. I checked just now, and saw this transcript, and I was more than delighted to be able to read the transcript. I watched the video and matched it up with the transcript, and it moved me to tears.

    Thanks, Renee!

    And to Cara, for saying what had to be said.

  21. Don’t usually post, but had to add my thanks for the transcript. It’s hard to get the internet speed for videos where I live.

  22. I read the youtube comments (I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose) and the poet Jasmine, or at least someone who claims to be her said: “Hi. .Im JAsmine Mans “the poet above”…first and 4most i want to thank you all for watching my video, i am humbled to know that people are interested enough to watch let alone comment. I have never been raped, though i know someone who has been. i simply take on the silenced voice…my job as a poet is to be that raped girl on stage and tell that story well enough that i can change someones life. that poem was written well before this competition…and i respect my craft and this story too much to ever USE the life experience of a human 2 win a competition”

    I think it is interesting to consider this in light of what some commenters have said about sharing stories of sexual violence. Is it only okay to share our own personal stories? Or is it okay to do what Jasmine says she did with this poem and “take on the silenced voice”?

  23. I appreciate the transcript as well. The poem was really powerful and I’m glad I got to read it, even though it was hard to read. My ancient computer at home won’t play videos and YouTube is blocked at work.

  24. Pingback: This one’s about rape again. Rape of children, in fact. So you’ve been warned. « Natalia Antonova

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