Survivor Stories
Survivors in Canada share their stories
Serat* (Ontario)
I was born in Somalia. When I was three, my aunt, who had moved to Canada a few years earlier, persuaded my mother I would have a better life if I went with her. I grew up with my aunt in rural Ontario, but I never forgot my mother.
When I was 13, my aunt and I traveled to Somalia to see her again.
Early one morning, three village women burst into the hut where I was sleeping. My mother had summoned them when she learned that I hadn’t undergone the traditional Somali rite of circumcision. I started screaming and tried to run.
The women caught me, pinned me down, spread my legs, and, after administering a local anesthetic, cut off the tip of my clitoris. Then they sewed part of my labia shut over the cut. I could see blood gushing down my thighs, then I passed out.
When I recovered consciousness, my legs were tied together. I stayed like this for a week, in constant pain. It was really hard to pee. They took away from me what was rightfully mine. When I returned to Canada a few months later, my aunt told me to accept what had happened and move on. I couldn’t.
I felt incomplete, ashamed and devastated. I didn’t speak about it to anyone else for over a decade. Who could I talk to? There’s a complete wall of silence around this issue here.
People keep their hands off, saying, ‘That’s their tradition,’ and that attitude is wrong, wrong, wrong. That’s why FGM has survived hundreds of years.
Kaddy* (British Columbia)
In the summer of 2003 my siblings and I were laughing and telling stories on the balcony of my father's house.
In Africa, summer is a time to play and share stories under the moonlight with family and friends; a time when every girls' dream is for her parents to buy her new clothes for her vacation. I was sent to spend the holidays with my grandma who I really love and am very close with. She was always there for me when I was growing up and taught me the ways and traditions of Gambia. Before I returned home to my father and stepmother, my Grandma bought me some lovely clothes and traditional African jewellery. I was so happy.
Back at my father's house, on the 25th of August 2003 at 4 a.m., my stepmother woke me up. I was very surprised to be woken up that early. I was only thirteen and had to obey. I showered and then noticed she was talking to another women who had arrived with three young girls my age.
I asked my stepmother why are we going out at this ungodly hour and she said we were going to visit a friend who was critically ill. I trusted her because I was young and naive. We drove for a long time and ended up in an old and empty house in a remote area.
After we arrived, my step mum and the other ladies had a long conversation inside. Then my step mum came of the house and took me inside. They took one of the other little girls into one of the rooms. After about five minutes I heard a loud scream coming from that room and I was scared to death! The little girl screamed and I was terrified and was about to run outside but my step mom grabbed me and they tied my hands so I couldn't struggle. That was the most terrifying moment of my life.
I was grabbed again by two women who put a blindfold over my eyes. They said "don't worry, it won't hurt," but it hurt like hell. I was crying and screaming for my mom to come and get me. I really needed her but she was far away. I cried and prayed for rescue but none came. I felt completely helpless the moment they put me on the ground and I felt a sharp blade cutting into my private part. My clitoris was chopped off. At that moment I wished I’d never been born. The pain I felt was excruciating; I cried so much that I could hardly breathe.
It was like the world came to an end. That whole day I couldn't pee because I was so scared of the pain; I was not given any pain killers or anything to reduce the pain. It was the worst experience ever.
No girl should have to go through that horror.
Megan*
When I was 7 my mom took us back home. I had no idea this was going to happen. This lady came over and then there were people holding me down and I couldn’t get away. They cut me. I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t even know what it was. But I felt like something had been taken away from me. I wasn’t whole anymore.
I learned afterward that this lady was the local cutter. That was her job. I had Type 1. My family knew about the more severe types and they wouldn’t have done that. But they thought Type 1 was for hygiene and that you needed to be cut to be marriageable. It might be hard for people to understand but my family think that if a girl doesn’t get married and have kids, she can’t be happy. Especially when she’s old, she will be all alone because she doesn’t have children or grandchildren to look after her. It’s the worst fate they can imagine for a girl, to not have her own family.
A lot of parents still think it’s a good thing. It’s part of tradition. But if religious leaders spoke out and said this isn’t part of religion and you shouldn’t do it to your daughters, that would have a huge impact. And doctors talking about the health effects for girls and women and how there are no health benefits, just problems. It should be illegal everywhere but you have to enforce the law or there’s no point to it.
Back in Canada, when I was older, a therapist told me that I don’t need a guy to be happy. I started to work on feeling good about my body. Still, there’s part of me that feels I’m not whole. I know I’m good the way I am but I wish that something hadn’t been taken away from me.
When I’ve talked to friends about intimacy, some say they can feel pleasure and I guess I’ll never feel that. I’ve never told them what happened. I’m too embarrassed to admit it. A boyfriend once asked me about it. He’d been to Africa and he asked me if I’d had FGM. I denied it and told him I didn’t. I was ashamed and didn’t want to tell him because he might have looked at me differently if he knew.
What I would like to see is education in the schools starting in Grade One. You can teach little kids about consent and that they have rights over their own body. Get that in their minds. I’d like to see an online media campaign so Canadians know this is happening to little Canadian girls. Teachers and social workers need to be on the lookout for girls being taken abroad. I wish someone had been able to help me. I’ve worked hard to become strong and independent but I know many women are too ashamed to tell anyone. We can change that if we work together.
Maryan
I was cut at six years old. I still remember that day. The sharp cut. The unbearable pain. And the aftermath. I went through the most severe type of female genital mutilation, infibulation. They sewed everything together and left only a tiny opening. I recall the pain during the grueling three-hour journey home after that day in the Bush. We couldn’t walk; we had to shuffle through the hot sand because our legs were tied together from the thighs to the toes. I remember the pain and the burning when I peed. I recall the fear two weeks later, when the cutter came back to check her handiwork, fearing I would be cut again if I wasn’t ‘closed enough.’ Yet this was something I had looked forward to because it had to happen. Because every girl had to go through it. Terrified about the impending pain, I still looked forward to going through it. That is the kind of brainwashing that takes place. And at only six years old, what could I do other than comply?
Years later, at 24, I was stunned to learn that a friend of mine was not cut, yet she was a Muslim. I was brought up believing that Female Genital Mutilation was Islamic and a must do for every girl. I’ve since learned the most liberating piece of information-that FGM has no basis in Islam. On the contrary, it violates Islamic teaching on the human rights of women and girls. It’s a message I have owned and share with my people and the world to save girls from FGM. Fighting female genital mutilation is a most challenging task for me as a survivor because it is such a personal issue, and I want it to stop right about now which is not possible. That’s frustrating and heart wrenching too. But it is the knowledge of the pain that pushes me. I don’t want another girl to go through it.
When I had my daughter, I was determined that she would not be cut. But the pressure on girls is enormous. Relatives told her she was beautiful but if she wasn’t cut, she would be ugly; that she would grow horrible organs that looked like fangs of snakes; that she would smell of urine all the time; that her whole class would smell like kintir-like clitoris. Seeing her innocent eyes look at me for confirmation of the urine or the snake was just too painful. No amount of hugs or reassuring words were enough to counter those messages. That’s how I came to cross the Atlantic. I could save my nine-year-old from mutilation in my native Kenya, but not from the shaming.
After I arrived, just over a year ago, I was shocked to realize that there is a silence about FGM in Canada; that there is fear of offending other people’s rights, traditions, and religion. As a survivor, I want to tell Canadians that they are very much welcome to condemn female genital mutilation. Nobody deserves to be taken through this terrible pain that affects you for life. Canadians have opened their borders for many immigrants and newcomers, and among these are girls at risk and women who are survivors. We need Canada’s silence on female genital mutilation to end, so girls can be protected, and survivors supported. And we need that silence to end now.
Maryan Sheikh, EndFGM Canada Network
Faduma* (Ontario)
I was born in Toronto, Canada. I was 7 years old when my parents took us to Somalia. We were only supposed to go back for the summer, but that was a lie. My sister, my brother and I stayed there for about three years. Not knowing whether we were ever going to be allowed to return back to Canada, we were left there to stay with our grandma as our parents returned back home.
One morning, my grandma decided to wake my sister and I up for breakfast. But at the time I wasn't hungry, so she took my sister to our second house across the street. Then a couple of minutes later she came back for me. I thought that was very odd because she never pressured me to eat breakfast. After the multiple attempts at guilting me, I agreed and went to the second house not knowing what I was getting myself into.
As I walked in the house the doors were slammed shut. There were a bunch of women there, many of whom I didn’t know. I tried to escape to the washroom and locked myself in there for a while. Finally, I caved in as they promised they weren’t going to harm me. Of course, that was a lie to get me to come out. The moment I came out, they grabbed me, pinned me down, spread my legs and cut off the tip of my clitoris. I couldn’t even believe what was happening to me. After that we were confined to a room, where it took weeks for us to heal. I was in so much pain, I felt so humiliated, and I couldn’t understand why my grandma would subject me to such trauma. 3 years later we returned back home to Canada, but me and my sister knew better than to ever speak about the Female Genital Mutilation we endured. Our culture has a way of silencing women who go through this horrendous torture, and we were conditioned to believe that it was simply a part of life as a child of Somali immigrants. It was only recently that I was able to tell my truth of what happened, and I want to encourage other women to do the same. Female genital mutilation is abuse and an oppression against women and I want to use my voice to advocate for this injustice to end.
Faduma, 25, Toronto
Tamara* (Ontario)
In 2001 My parents moved my siblings and I to Egypt and told us the reason was to enrich us with our religion and culture. A big fear my parents had was that we would become westernized and completely abandon our traditions, that’s why they thought they had to take us there.
I had FGM (Female genital mutilation) type 1 done on me when I was 9 years old during my stay in Africa. I was totally clueless as to what was going to happen that day and was only told I’ll be going for a doctor visit. There was not much resistance on my end because as a child I never thought twice about anyone harming me in that way let alone it being my parents who carried out this procedure on my behalf.
I remember the taxi ride to the doctors and having to wait for a lengthy period of time to get the procedure done. I went inside the room after waiting and sat on the operating table. The last thing I remember before being put under was the ceiling fan and how I was following my eyes with it. I vaguely remember the journey back home, but after that I was bedridden for a few days. I healed and then didn't speak about it in depth because of shame until now being a 25 year old woman.
I’m so happy and blessed to be a part of a space that allows me to speak my truth and heal. As a first-generation Canadian, I look forward to bringing awareness to issues people like me go through because we all deserve basic human rights.
Tamara, 25, Toronto
Mahiri* (Ontario)
I am born in Toronto Canada to Somali immigrant parents. In 2004, at the age of 8, I was taken to Egypt for a vacation on the assumption that’d we’d only be there for the summer, but we were actually moving there. By the Fall of 2006, at the age of 10 years old, I became a victim to (Female Genital Mutilation) FGM. It was done to me while I lived in Egypt. The whole purpose of why my parents made us move to that country was what many other Somalis call “culture re-education”. I remember the traumatizing events as if it were yesterday. For a very long time I was incapable of coming to terms with what had happened to me. Convinced by my culture that such things were of the norm I was silenced by my community into accepting my trauma. When I spoke to my mother about what had happened, I was told that I had in fact seen many of my friends getting the procedure done and therefore had asked if I could also get it done. This isn’t something I recall but due to my distortive memories of the incident I went on years assuming that story was true. The truth is that even if that were the case, things my mother didn’t want to hold herself accountable for was the fact that many young girls in my culture are groomed and conditioned into believing that FGM is how a girl must stay holy. My culture brainwashes you into thinking that the only way people will ever respect you or view you as worthy is if you have this horrendous procedure done on you. Years of grooming and conditioning is why if I ever did, I would ask to have this done so I wouldn’t feel excluded. But as a child, I did not know any better and for the caregivers in my life, it was their job to protect me. I spent 10 years abroad and finally returned to Canada in 2014. I’ve struggled with wondering why I was the way I was for many years, and it wasn’t until 2019 that I was able to finally come to terms with what had happened to me. As a survivor, it is my job to speak out and raise awareness for all the little girls out there who do not have a voice of their own. We are stronger in numbers, and we can heal as a collective. United we stand, forever and always against Female Genital Mutilation.
Mahiri, 25, Toronto
*Names have been changed
