Nora (pseudonym) shares the trauma and pain she feels about having FGC performed on her. Like many survivors, she isn't able to talk about the taboo topic with family members or her peers. Coupled with feelings of betrayal and loss, it can be a such a lonely experience.
Still, Nora is hopeful for the future: she is determined to end the pain and trauma with her.
One of the most difficult topics I brought up with my therapist was about my experience with FGC. I cried so hard when I told her my story.
I was 5 when my older brothers were circumcised. I remember watching them crying in pain. I asked my mother if I had to go through this too when I was older. She said no, that it was different for girls. That I was already circumcised when I was a baby. That conversation has stayed with me all this time.
Growing up, I tried to talk about FGC with my peers and elders, but the conversations were almost always immediately dismissed as sunnah* and I was told not to question the religion.
Only now, 30 years later, when I spoke about it with my therapist did I feel that someone heard my pain.
I don’t remember when it happened to me. I don’t know the details either – of who did it, where they did it, or what they used.
All I know is the pain of knowing that my body had been permanently altered without my consent by the people and community who I had no choice but to entrust to keep me safe from harm, and I was failed miserably by them.
My scars are physical, psychological and emotional.
I have to live with my feelings of disappointment, anger and injustice.
FGC is harmful and unnecessary.
But there is hope – the pain is avoidable. I refuse to pass down this trauma to my daughters.
This ends with me.
* Sunnah refers to practices which are not mandatory but encouraged in Islam.