Driving back from Waco, I hear on the radio a report of a recent Baylor case; a football player accused of rape.
So you’re a 6’9″ football player, so you think you have the right to overtake a young lady”s body. Why do you think you have the right? What has happened in your life to be such a sick person.
This triggered a teen-age memory I’d rather forget. This is quite different writing for me, but I was compelled to write this piece because I was feeling vulnerable and angry. This reminds me of a (Mexican song by Jose Alfredo Jimenez)
La Vida no Vale Nada, which translate to life has no value! Of course I do not agree with this.
I grew up in a town named Huron, California, predominantly an agricultural community in the San Joaquin Valley. With many cantinas (bars) llenas de muchas muchachas muy joven (filled with very young girls). Selling there bodies for $20. This is what I grew up seeing. Although, we were very protected and shielded, we all knew “it” existed.
One day en route to Coalinga to visit my Abuelitos, a woman sold oranges off of the road, a rickety old umbrella/canopy protected her from the 100 degree heat, at a well-known 4 way stop known to locals as….5 mile gin.
We occasionally stopped to buy oranges from her.
She told my Mama she had been robbed of her oranges and money………oh and she was also raped.
When my Mama returned to the car, where I was waiting to peel into a juicy orange, she proceeded to share the story the “orange lady,” had just shared. It was as if the woman who had been raped was mainly concerned about the robbery. I wanted to scream, cry, and it made me sad. I wondered what had happened to a woman, to not value her body her life? My Mama and I drove quietly to Coalinga as I ate my sweet orange.