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By Khaleda Rahman for MailOnline. These pictures show frightened girls lined up before villagers in Kenya to be circumcised - even though the brutal practice is now illegal in the country. But in many African tribes, traditions are more important than laws and circumcision is considered a rite of passage that marks their transition into womanhood so they can marry. Reuters photographer Siegfried Modola captured this ceremony in rural Kenya for four teenage girls of the Pokot tribe, in Baringo County. Draped in animal skin and covered in white paint, the girls squat over large stones in the remote village after being circumcised - a life-threatening custom banned in the country three years ago. Tearful: One of the young girls, covered in an animal skin, cries after being circumcised. The practice was outlawed three years ago. Frightened: Four young Pokot girls stand outside one of the girl's homes just before the beginning of their circumcision ceremony. Adorned: After the ceremony, the girls, now covered in animal skins and beaded necklaces, walk to where they will rest after the tribal ritual. Painted: After the ritual, the girls faces are painted white to show they have been circumcised and transitioned into womanhood.
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I wanted to contrast how different parenting is today from how parenting was back in the 70s and 80s. All our parents should be in jail. Seriously— How the hell are we all alive and well today???
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I crawled out of bed, still wearing my Cracker Barrel uniform from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It was like the television was somehow warning me. My whole body went numb. My thoughts began to race. Who is this naked girl on the screen? She looks a lot like me. Wait, wait, wait…that is me. I had never felt more betrayed, confused, and heartbroken in all my 25 years of living. What the heck.
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I crawled out of bed, still wearing my Cracker Barrel uniform from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It was like the television was somehow warning me. My whole body went numb. My thoughts began to race. Who is this naked girl on the screen? She looks a lot like me.

Wait, wait, wait…that is me. I had never felt more betrayed, confused, and heartbroken in all my 25 years of living. What the heck. What the heck? As I began to cry hysterically, I also began to investigate. I said those words at least a hundred times before I had the courage to sit back up and look around.

It was there I found his collection of pornographic content hidden away within a red and blue suitcase. There were no traces of me there. I cannot explain the anger I felt. I clicked on the naked picture of myself. Every single body part was exposed.

My vagina, breasts, butt, and face. My head was turned to the right side, completely oblivious to my surroundings. My brown, medium-length hair was drenched wet. I was holding a brown towel in my right hand and my favorite yellow St. Louis Blues shirt in the other. I slapped myself in the face repeatedly. How long has this been happening? When did he do this? Why did he do this? I wanted to wake up. Sadly, the nightmare was only just beginning.

My curious and horrified mind began going through all his files. I wanted to make sure what I had seen was the only picture he had of me. I found a video file from February 23, , and clicked on it. In tears, I kept repeating to myself that I was strong. I was strong. My shaking hand started the video. The camera was upside down, sitting on a brown bookcase hiding between books. I watched myself on the screen. I walked into my room, completely unaware, and locked my door.

I began drying my hair with that same brown towel and studied myself in the mirror just like any other girl. I put the towel down and opened my drawer to get my favorite yellow St. Louis Blues t-shirt and pink shorts. Then the video ended. My own father had saved a picture of me from a video he recorded without my consent. He saved it on both his laptop and desktop. I had so many questions. I wanted to know how many more videos he had taken.

I wanted to know how often he videotapes me. Did he do it while I was asleep? All I knew was I needed to get out of that house immediately. I no longer felt safe and I was afraid for my life. This was also the moment I had realized all the distant childhood memories of my father were true.

The hardest memory continues to haunt my brain. It was the day I told him no. When I was in fifth grade, he became very curious about me and my body. He wanted to know everything about it. At that age, I trusted my father and never questioned when he hurt me. I had thought it was okay for him to show me things a girl my age had no business knowing. How was I supposed to know otherwise? One traumatic day, he took his manipulative love even further. From there, he performed his normal routine.

It always came just when I thought the awfulness was over. I felt sick to my stomach. I remember jerking my hand away. I was panicked and scared. I told him no. I knew what I was remembering was the truth, and I needed to get far away from him. Before I move on, I want to give you a little background on my childhood. My mother had me when she was 18 years old with another man. That man is my biological father. I know nothing about him besides the fact he signed his rights away when I was a child. My adoptive father is the pig that violated and molested me.

He has haunted my entire life. First, the physical abuse. Second, the masturbating in front of me. Third, the emotional abuse. Now he was videotaping me, invading my privacy. I was livid. All I knew was I had had enough. I instantly thought about my mother. I wanted to protect her from this monster. If he was hurting me, then I knew he had the potential to harm her as well. The day I confronted him, it felt like my soul had been shattered to pieces. I had waited a week to say anything.

Part of me hoped the situation would disappear on its own. Every inch of my body was boiling when I thought about him. I planned out exactly what I wanted to say to him, writing my words out obsessively. I studied my lines, word for word, because I wanted nothing more than to let this man know how I felt. I wanted justice. Teary-eyed, I grabbed my belongings and walked into the living room where they both sat. My father looked me dead in the eyes.

He was sitting on the couch with his computer screen opened before him. I instantly felt the rage overtake my body. I had the proof on my phone. He looked away and ignored me. I have something I need to show you that will cause you instant turmoil and pain, but I am here to protect you. She loved this man, and I was about to destroy her entire world. My shaking hand grabbed hers as I presented the videos to her. She began sobbing uncontrollably. He said nothing.



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