“No one would just walk into someone else's house like that.”

Trigger Warning: The following narrative contains content related to experiences of Gender-Based Violence (GBV).

Imaara stands as a beacon of resilience, founded by survivors of Gender-Based Violence (GBV) for survivors. Every aspect of our NGO is crafted with the deep understanding that only those who have endured the harrowing journey of survival truly comprehend its nuances. From our programs to our support networks, we are driven by the unwavering commitment to empower fellow survivors. Each story shared within our community is a testament to the strength and courage that resides within every survivor. Together, we create a safe space where voices silenced by fear and shame are given power. Our mission is not merely to offer aid but to ignite a spark of hope in the hearts of those who have felt the darkest depths of despair. In this sanctuary of understanding and solidarity, survivors find solace, healing, and the unwavering belief that they are not defined by their past traumas, but by the strength it took to survive them.

The Words of an Anonymous Survivor

I think I was in high school when this happened. My parents weren’t home that day, and my cousin had come over with her child. We were in the bathroom, giving the child a bath in our bathtub. Out of nowhere, our plumber walked in, asking for something I can't quite recall. My cousin and I were taken aback. No one would just walk into someone else's house like that. But I tried to stay calm and told my cousin I’d handle it since she was busy with the child.

I remember guiding him from the bathroom to the kitchen, and then into the service area, trying to figure out what he needed. I didn’t realize how closely he was following me until, suddenly, he groped me from behind. My immediate reaction was to flinch and step away, but he kept talking—some random words—without letting go. I managed to push him off just enough to get to the kitchen, where I quickly grabbed the nearest thing I could—a knife. The moment I had the knife in my hand, he stepped back, said he would come back when my parents were home, and left.

I locked the door and went back to the bathroom, acting like nothing had happened. My cousin questioned me, asking how he had gotten so far into the house, but I just told her I had no idea what he was thinking and that he had worked with us for a long time. It wasn’t until later that I fully understood what had occurred, and the disgust set in. I remember feeling paranoid for a long time afterward, always making sure the doors were locked whenever I was home alone.

What’s sad is that to this day, I’ve never opened up to my parents about it, and that plumber still comes over now and then. I keep my distance and avoid interacting with him. I try and cover up myself, often instinctively crossing my arms over my chest or using a cushion, regardless of what I’m wearing, and I sit properly if he’s around. It’s just an involuntary reaction that happens on its own. There have been times when my dad assigned him tasks around the house when I was the only one at home, but I learned to say no, and I never opened the door if I was alone.

This experience taught me not to trust strangers, no matter how kind or caring they may seem. It also made me realize how important it is for children to feel comfortable talking to their parents about anything, especially sensitive issues like abuse. Unfortunately, at the time, I didn’t have that kind of relationship with my parents. Conversations like that weren’t really heard or talked about.

Looking back, I wish I had opened up to my parents, but it’s clear that a supportive, open relationship with your family can make all the difference. If your family can teach you about boundaries and support you through tough conversations, that’s where the change starts. Society plays a role, but it’s the family foundation that truly matters.