The alcohol and the exhaustion from the continuing chronic insomnia finally caught up to me, and I had to find a corner and sit on my hands to stop myself from glassing my rapist.
I wasn’t raped. He only fondled my private parts. Nothing thing to see here. Nothing to report. Only a fondle. Several on different occasions over the span of a year or so, actually. But it was nothing too invasive, or violent. Nothing too serious, right? So it felt ridiculous to make a big deal about it.
By MICHELLE SOLOMON and ZIPO-ZENKOSI NCOKAZI MANY police officers in the East London policing area do not know how to respond to rape cases, [an] investigation revealed. The investigation also found that a few did not appear to know the legal definition of rape. This week, [we] visited seven East London police stations and presented… Read More ›