THE FIRST (an anti-RAPE allegory)

Sayo Aluko

Her name is fecund femininity. Her name was fecund femininity. Like an intricately carved pitcher emerging gracefully from the finest Potters’ wheel, so she berthed virginally out of adolescence into teenage-hood, glancing gracefully with chastity within and the allure of innocence without. At a time when the fad of pubertal exuberance tenaciously grinned
within her reins to impulsively dance to the frenzied jingles and enticing pressures of untamed adulthood, then came her first, the first. 
 So she heard, “husky, hefty, handsome, goes the best hunk”, and so was her first. 

There was cold feet, need for a lead, desire for a clue and a crave for the least crumbles of experience, but, unfortunately, all she had was a dangling hope in her vast amounts of sincere but dilute and vapid innocence. Had she known, that ‘husky’ isn’t necessarily the litmus for best, neither does ‘hefty-handsome’ serve as acid tests for truest love, the first, her first, wouldn’t have been the last, her last.

In his heart roamed an uncouth ravenous crave, in his hands lay sinister deception, both perfectly guised as stellar affection, and yes, through her understandably puerile eyes it shone harmlessly like celestial constellation; but soon and unexpectedly, through her legs, it wrought tragically, more so, without her consent. Unknown to her harmless embrace and mildly tepid emotion, heinous ego surreptitiously pounced on her priceless pride like a ravaged wolf, militantly, unannounced like a blood-hounding thief. 

As his swiftly toned muscles grit giddily against the walls of her innocence, and his taut pelvic appendage thrust back and forth willfully against the gradient of her erstwhile lush expectations, her heart broke into strenuous tears, her hymen shed bloody tears, and beyond tears, her eyes were shockingly and gawkily arid! 

It was a “cinderellic” first that just ended monstrously. Her first, started slow and steady, now ended fast and furious, yes, spurious! Dark clouds now loud, stars now beneath her feet, with her muddied mind she mused, “Rights I did wrong? Where did I go wrong?”

Yes, her name is fecund femininity. Her name was fecund femininity, Oh! Now is frigid fragility; an unsolicited re-christening done by the wanton whims of impetuously egocentric masculinity, what brute animality, what damning fatality!

It is what she has lost, that she’s now allowed to keep; the “how” for this, her quotidian confusion.

Her name is frigid fragility; pitiable and brash as it is, so also it remains a conundrum as to how unfairly her budding first, became the brooding last, how her last was, and is the first.

                           [This is an allegory meant to bolster the anti-rape movement in our polity.]