After a painful breakdown that left me hospitalized, due to potassium deficiency, emotional fatigue, and physical exhaustion, I received a phone call from a neighbor. He was pursuing a doctorate and spoke to me about an IT company he had founded with some colleagues. I was too tired to process much. I told him I was planning to paint my walls.
He responded with something I couldn’t understand at first. He said I must be painting them for a better background, for a “live show.” I froze. Then he added, almost casually, that I would never have made it to college unless I did porn. According to him, my parents couldn’t afford tuition, so it was the only logical explanation for how I got there.
His words echoed something I had experienced years before, during my first days in college.
Back then, some random men would approach me and offer to pay for my tuition. I didn’t understand what they meant. I was young and confused, and I tried to avoid them, tried not to let their stares or their implications get to me. But I always carried a quiet question inside: Why were these men talking to me like that? What did they see in me that made them believe they could say those things?
Eventually, I began to understand. There had been rumors around the neighborhood for years, stories that my father was selling drugs, and that I was doing pornography even as a young girl. There was no truth in any of it. But the stories spread. They stuck. People assumed that because we were poor, we couldn’t possibly do anything with integrity. They couldn’t believe we might be trying…just trying…to live with dignity.
My silence became their confirmation, and they took advantage of that.
I didn’t speak because I was confused, overwhelmed, and trying to survive. But instead of compassion, they used my silence to validate their lies.
They mistook my dignity for guilt.
So the gossip kept spreading, louder and more twisted over time.
Tracing the exact source of the rumors and the intentions behind them isn’t easy.
People hide behind shadows, whispers, and fake concern.
But I know: eventually, things will emerge. Truth always has a way of surfacing, especially when it’s been buried for so long.
Surviving the Distorted Reality
Lesson: Confront Them Right Away
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from surviving the lies, the assumptions, and the silence—it’s this:
Confront them right away.
Don’t wait for the rumors to fade. Don’t assume your silence will protect you. Because silence, in the wrong environment, is not interpreted as dignity. It’s taken as agreement.
Speak up. Ask questions. Expose their intentions.
Even if your voice shakes.
Even if you’re unsure.
Even if you’re exhausted.
Even now, I don’t know what they truly wanted from me.
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