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The girl I lock eyes with looks about 16 years old. The room is filled with tens of other typical teenage girls—bright, focused, awkward. Hair braided, girlish anticipation in the She-rage princess of pain I smell barbells muscle wecandoit shirt also I will do this air. It’s hard to believe that every one of them has been violated, each carrying their own untold trauma. Five years after #MeToo and away from the headlines, deep in the DRC, there are women fighting daily to receive an education, support themselves, and change the attitudes of those around them—with the hope that future victims of sexual violence won’t be ostracized from their families or shunned from their communities. The girl sitting in the front row is one just of them. The next day, I visit an organization founded by Nathalie Kambala, a dynamic female lawyer from the region, who is working to provide support for girls affected by gender-based violence. I sit down to speak with one of the girls in the program, and I instantly recognize her from the night before. Now, without the head wrap and with a baby in her arms, I learn her name is Amelie. She tells me that she’s studying to be a nutritionist, as there are currently no nutritionists in the whole Kasai region. We are interrupted as someone tries to close the door for privacy, and immediately, her baby daughter becomes distressed. I look at this beautiful girl, barely 18 months old, and wonder why a door being closed is so upsetting.
I ask Amelie how she came to know about the She-rage princess of pain I smell barbells muscle wecandoit shirt also I will do this scholarship program, and as she speaks, it’s as if a dam inside her breaks; her words flow so readily. She takes me back to a night three years ago, when armed bandits came to her family’s home. At 16, Amelie was blindfolded and put into a vehicle with her hands tied. Unaware of where she was being taken, when the blindfold was removed, she found herself in a room with five men and many other girls. She was a hostage there for two and a half months, raped daily by the same five men. They would lock the door for the day and then open it at night, and the nightmare would start all over again. Amelie discovered that many of the girls had been there for a year, and they were reluctant to resist, already so broken down by the experience. She encouraged them to scream during the day to attract attention, but many refused, too fearful of the consequences. Unperturbed, Amelie tells me of the fateful day her cries were heard by some passing children. They alerted the Congolese armed forces, who finally discovered the girls after breaking down the door.
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