COMMENT | Every girl, woman, mother, grandmother has a tale to tell. About how she was violated as a female. Some of us are “luckier” than others. We got away with mild teasing about our big bottom or have had our booty brushed against. We exchanged these “stories” with girlfriends, said how disgusting so-and-so was, and moved on.

At 18, I was invited to a family friend’s home in Singapore where I was studying to sit for my ‘A’ level exams as a foreign student. On arrival at their home, I discovered that the wife was not in the country and the randy husband had nefarious desires over me.

I was trapped alone in the apartment with him for an hour; seemed like an eternity. I could have been raped, but I wasn’t; purely by the grace of the divine. More important was how I reacted when I was safely back in my dormitory at the YWCA.

I took a bath, sat on my bed, shivering. I told my best friend and we decided together not to tell anyone else because no one would believe an 18-year-old schoolgirl over a 38-year-old well-established engineer. My future mustn’t be tarnished. My family name ... 

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