If only God were a woman

STORY BY JANNA ALTHEA ENCARNACION

was lovely. My life was almost perfect. And it could have been. It should have been.

It's a song by Taylor Swift that a lot of youths relate to.

When you're young, other people assume you don't know anything in this world. They will chose to believe the opinions of the older generation. They'll think you're lying.

They'll believe that you're making up stories. They'll assume you know nothing.

A friendly church girl. A beautiful woman.

That's how they described me.

But then Youth Camp happened.

At the first day of youth camp, we had lots of activities. It was so much fun! But I know now that this was the calm before the storm.

2AM. I woke up to drink water, but I didn't expect to see Father Roel there, sitting alone. He turned to me... and grinned. That damn grin, engraved into my memory. That was the start of my nightmare. He's touching me sexually. He tied me up and covered my mouth using a cloth. He's trying to kiss me while gradually undressing me. I couldn't do anything, I cried and cried, I pushed and kicked him, but I was weak. I couldn’t do anything with how much he overpowered me. His hands began to wander, from my chest, he gradually went down. I continued to struggle. but I still couldn’t do anything.

He raped me.

Burn in hell. I wanted to curse him so badly, but I had something in my mouth. I couldn't do anything. I cried and asked for His help, but as usual, no one helped me.

Three days passed. The Youth Camp is over. I came home. My mother asked me what happened, and I cried and told my parents the whole story, thinking that they will defend me. But to my surprise, my mother shouted.

"Dios mio por favor, hija, how can you make up a story like that? He is a servant of the Lord!"

Is she... serious? I cried and shouted back.

"But where was the Lord when I was raped? Where was he? I cried and asked for his help, but no one came!"

STORY

They said don’t spread with your mouth, what your eyes didn’t see. But just as the tongue weighs practically nothing, only a few can hold it. Rumors spread around the school like wildfire. A grade 11 student sharing an intimate affair with a student in the senior high school girls’ bathroom

It was an asynchronous day for classes when the story circulated around social media. A few accounts were vocal about the issue. Among them were mostly junior high school students.

With the sudden uproar, the student denied all that had been talked about him online– as it did not just spread throughout the junior and senior high school departments, it had reached the faculties.

I grew up in a religious household, where me and my family were always present in every church activity. I'm part of the choir and the head of youths in our parish.

I was 14 years old when he taught the word of God in our parish. He is good. He is friendly. He is kind. He is a gentleman. He had welcoming eyes. He had a lively presence. You would always feel safe when he's around.

Hah... I almost got fooled. Almost.

School, church, school, church. My routine was very simple. I went to school during the week, and to church on the weekends. I was happy! It

I cried and asked for help. Surely God would do something, I thought. I was desperate. So I prayed and prayed, asking for His help and guidance. But no one helped me. I know that they can hear my cries. But no one knocked on the door. They were deaf. They were useless. The youth camp lasted for 3 days. I didn't bother participating. I was locked in my room, silently crying and begging God for His mercy. I wanted someone— anyone, to save me. But nobody came.

Was there even a God? Why would He allow this?

The following days, he continued to rape me. He would masturbate in front of me, smirking like a degenerate idiot. "I know that you want this, too, Lana."

There was this painting I saw when I was 12. It was a picture of a girl. She has beautiful, slanted eyes, a pointed nose, and plump lips. But what really caught my attention was her hair. It was wavy, with hints of green and blue and black and orange and red and so much more! If you looked hard enough into her eyes, you would see the faintest tears. I always wondered why she was crying. But I look at this painting again, and my chest tightened. I know why now.

Hello again, Medusa. It's been two years since we met. Two painful years of these horrible memories haunting me. Two suffocating years of being called a liar by everyone around me.

I stopped going to churches. I stopped trusting the family that betrayed me. They were deaf. They were useless. But most of all, I stopped believing in him. Was I serving a lie all this time? Some nonsense mythology?

If only god was a woman. I wouldn't have suffered so much. And if there is a god, he would have to beg for my forgiveness.