Once again, I would like to thank the people who contributed to this blog post. I know that it wasn’t easy to revisit these incidents. I am grateful for the messages of support that some of you sent but the people who really need the support are the people who walk among us silently with scars of rape. To those who pulled out of this post; when the time is right, I pray that you find the courage you need to get through your experience. In our own words, these are our rape stories.

This is my story.

On 6 January 2006, I asked him for a lift to the taxi rank in Randburg. He worked at a car dealership nearby and I had spoken to him on several occasions during smoke breaks. During the ride, Simon told me that he lived in Turffontein and seeing as he would drive in the vicinity of Yeoville, where I lived at the time, I asked him to drop me off closer to home. I used to blame myself for asking for that lift.

As he drove, he told me that he had to pick up some work things from a colleague’s house along the way. I didn’t complain; I had no reason to. Even as he made his way through unfamiliar neighbourhoods, I had no idea that my life was about to change.

To cut a long story short, after he raped me in a park somewhere in the suburbs, I walked to the nearest townhouse complex and asked the security guard for help. He let me use his phone to call my boyfriend at the time and another friend.

The minute I described my rapist, the police were certain that they had just solved the case right there at their desks. You see, I am a black girl who worked a late shift in Randburg dressed in a tight mini-skirt and the sexiest pair of stilettoes they had ever seen. I had walked into the police station with a 50 year old white boyfriend and a young black male friend to tell the guys in uniform that a white man had just raped me. This didn’t make sense to them. What reason would a white man, who I had asked for a ride, have to rape a black girl? WTF?

Anonymous, who is a personal friend of mine, has been raped three times. This was one of those times.

I was 16 and very impressionable. A friend and I were invited to a high school Valentine’s Day bash by some boys from our hood. For some or other ‘girly’ reason, we were running late and the home boys left us.

We bumped into a girlfriend of ours who was with some guys she introduced us to. They happened to be going to the same party. We were happy to get a lift and hoped that we’d find our friends there and come back home with them after a fun-filled night. Things did not turn out as planned. We ended up in a house in the East Rand with the men who had given us a lift.

There were other unfamiliar faces in the house, a game of spin the bottle was played, which I was VERY uncomfortable with and immediately, my instincts told me there was more to come. At some point the bullies decided it was time for everyone to ‘sleep’.

Some idiot called ‘…’ was feared by everybody there. He kept coming into the room I was sleeping in with four other people to make sure there was some ‘FUCKING’ going on.

I was petrified of him and asked a guy I knew to pretend we were getting it on. He pulled the blankets and realised it was bogus. He was not impressed and immediately ordered me to undress. This was done at gunpoint. I begged him not to do it, I cried, pleaded but my rapist was just not moved. He told me he was an ex-convict and that he had raped ‘abo bhuti bam nabo sisi bam’.

He violently raped me in that room, on the floor, in front of all these people as they watched, or maybe they closed their eyes to my rape. I asked my rapist to use a condom and for the longest time I felt dirty. I felt that by making that request, I had given him permission to violate me but hey, 3 rape experiences later, I now know that NOTHING justifies rape, NOTHING!!!

This is Buhle’s story.

Wen I was five my cousin and I went to my uncles place after she had picked me up from preschool I was 5 at the time. This was not unusual as we often went there to drop or pick up things for my mom or visa versa. But on tis day wen we go here my uncle was alone and he only had a towel around him.. Nothing seemed strange until wen we wanted to leave.. He had locked the door my cousin asked him to open but he refused, he slapped her n told her to kiss him n undress.. She refused n her hit some more.. He tore her clothes n dragged her to the bathroom.. Till this day I cnt be in a room with him.. Rape is 1 of the things that I fear.. U can rob but please dnt rape me.. That thing is brutal. I was 5years wen tthat happened but it still feels like it was yesterday.. Mind u I wasn’t the one raped how much more for the victim…

One of the followers of A Blog Like No Other wanted to share this story but not her identity.

I lost my job and asked a friend in Alexandra for help. She could not give me shelter in her own overcrowded home so she asked one of her friends to help me. He lived with his brother in a two bed-roomed house. I stayed there for a few weeks with no sign that he had any plans to rape me. He never even flirted with me and played the big brother until one night. He told me it was time to show him some gratitude or get out of his house.

Fearful of being out in the streets of Alexandra in the middle of the night, I begged him to allow me to leave in the morning. He refused and told me to choose between sex and taking my chances outside in the cold, merciless night. I lay there and cried the entire time he had his way with me. I left in the morning to yet another friend’s place. For a long time, I wasn’t even sure if that was rape. The man had said I could leave. This happened about ten years ago. I never told anyone until last week and now, I’m telling you.

There are many stories like this. They speak of anger, stolen pride and dignity, nightmares, unwanted pregnancies and often suicide.


There are organisations with people who are qualified, equipped and eager to help survivors. Below are some useful contact numbers. Please share them.

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