SRIKANDI SHARIENA

SRIKANDI SHARIENA

Isnin, 24 Februari 2014

ADMIN PAGE FACEBOOK 'MURTADS IN KELANTAN' PELAJAR CEMERLANG PERNAH DIROGOL KETIKA KECIL ????

Photo: ADMIN PAGE FACEBOOK 'MURTADS IN KELANTAN' PELAJAR CEMERLANG PERNAH DIROGOL KETIKA KECIL ????BIODATA PENUH JULI SUMARDIATI PEMILIK FAN PAGE FACEBOOK YANG MENGHINA ISLAM - JULI SUMARDIATI PERNAH DIROGOL DI USIA MUDA | Pada ketika ini kecoh dilaman sosial Facebook apabila satu page berjudul “Murtads In Kelantan – MIK” yang menghina agama Islam dikecam dan identiti pemiliknya sudahpun diketahui.....Pemiliknya bernama Juli Sumardiati merupakan seorang pelajar cemerlang SPM Terengganu 1989.

Juli merupakan penuntut di MRSM Kuala Terengganu.  Selepas SPM, Julie kemudiannya menyambung pelajaran di Colorado School of Mines, Amerika Syarikat pada 2005. Di sini Amerika Syarikat, Juli menganggotai kugiran metal Halun dan Shadowed Grace sebagai vokal / gitaris.

Dalam blog ini, turut tercatat pengalaman Juli dirogol pada usia muda sehingga membawa kepada bibit kebenciannya terhadap agama. Apa pun alasannya, diharapkan pihak berkuasa dapat segera menyiasat dan mengambil tindakan ke atas mereka yang menghina agama Islam.

Ikuti kisah beliau,

Emilie’s Diary: Memory Trigger

I used to wonder about my recollections of the sexual abuse I experienced as a child.  What I remember today are merely snapshots of flashbacks.  Just like those in those black and white movies.  I  recall vividly at least several separate occasions based on the different timing and locations when and where they happened.  However, details greatly vary.  I cannot pinpoint chronology, nor can I describe how each episode began or ended for the most part.  Why do I bother to know?  Perhaps it is best not to remember at all; yes, the thought crossed my mind many times.  I cannot help which memory I’ve carried with me for the longest time or which I’d chosen to forget.  Nevertheless, they’re there, so I’m actually more curious to know why those, and not others that I remember.  Or if they are actually real, and not something I made up for whatever reason.  Of course they are not made-up, but if anybody accuses me of such, will I be able to justify my story?

Sometime ago, I came across a video which provided some clues to understanding this.  At the end of the video, the speaker narrates his conversation with a young death row inmate whose life was certain to doom since he was a child; at a tender age of five, his paranoid schizophrenic mother tried to kill him with a butcher knife.  Curious, he asked the boy if he remembers anything, perhaps all he remembers was what people had told him; the boy, leaned forward and said “Professor, I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but when your momma picks up a butcher knife that looks bigger than you are, and chases you through the house, screaming she’s gonna kill you, and you have to lock yourself in the bathroom and leaned against the door and hollered for help until the police gets there, that’s something you don’t forget.”  (The rest of the video doesn’t really relate to my subject matter but I recommend watching it anyway for a few good things – understanding the suffering, proactive vs. reactive problem solving skills).

So, I call it “memory trigger.”  What the boy experienced was something emotionally intense (Fear.  Butcher knife).  However, a trigger does not need to be intense.  It just needs to be distinctive that it is memorable.  It can be something as trivial as a simple sound, smell, taste or vision, and it may only last for a few seconds.  The recollections are pieces of memory that center around the trigger.  These faded patches that provide the details are sort of unintended consequences of that trigger, really.

So I thought through the events that I believed had taken place in order to test this theory and for each event, identify the associated memory trigger.  The most vivid would have to be this one particular experience.  I was napping.  I was little, couldn’t have been more than four or five years of age.  I woke up to find a man spooning me, his penis between my legs.  Not inside my vagina, just between my legs.  I was a bit afraid I suppose, but I was more drowsy and having just woken up and confused, not sure of what to do.  He then realized I was awake, I guess my body must have stiffened all of a sudden.  He slowly pulled away, got up – all the while me remaining still with my back towards him – and as he was putting on his pants, his belt buckle clinked.  That clink.  That clink that remains with me until today.  That clink was the trigger that made me remember.

And then there was the one when my mom was cooking in the kitchen.  I was in a locked room with this man.  My abuser.  He did things to me, details are sketchy, but the sound of fish frying was loud and clear and it stuck in my brain until today.  And the one when we kids were playing hide and seek and I hid under the bed covers among unfolded laundry and this neighbor teenage boy slid his hand into my panties.  I refused, but he started saying another girl friend of mine didn’t refuse when he did the same thing so I should let him.  The musky and dusty air under the covers, along with the words that he whispered to me, were the memory trigger.

One night when I was 11, I was staying with a married cousin, and I woke up, and I realized my cousin’s adolescent brother was breathing heavily on my neck.  It frightened me but I froze.  I didn’t tell anyone.  And there was the one with the neighbor’s teenage son, we kids we were playing in the attic and then he must have told his sister to leave, because I forgot what happened next except that he fucked me, and afterwards told me not to tell my parents.  I remember putting my panties back on, one with black and white stripes.  The heavy breathing and my striped underwear were the trigger.

And then there was the painful one.  One day my family and I were watching television and I was lying on a metal swing in the living room at the back under the covers and this guy, a regular abuser, slipped his hand and started touching my vagina.  Yes, I liked it.  By then I was a regular masturbator, so when he told me to follow him to the balcony in the back, I relented. He locked the door and we fucked.  It was good, but it was also very painful.  Afterwards, he unlocked the door and I went to pee and I remember the sharp pain.  My memory trigger.  And as far as I am concerned, that was the last time I allowed them to touch me.

I used to think, was there something seriously wrong with me?  How did I manage to attract these men? I was 5 when it first happened and 11 when I told them to stop.  Exactly how many times, I do not know.  I only remember the ones with memory triggers.  But what I know for sure, that was the time when the self-hating and self-blaming started and lasted for the next 20 years or so.

Mungkin selepas ditahan, pihak yang mendalangi FB Murtads In Pantai Timur dapat diberikan pencerahan oleh pihak berkuasa tentang salah faham mereka terhadap Islam selama ini.

Sesungguhnya hidayah itu milik Allah SWT, semoga kita termasuk dalam kalangan yang diberikan nikmat untuk memperolehinya. Pemikiran dan pandangan Juli tentang Islam dapat dibaca di blognya, cattastrophenomenon.wordpress.com. Berikut kami kongsikan Biodata penuh Juli Sumardiati atau lebih dikenali sebagai Juli Jalaludin.BIODATA PENUH JULI SUMARDIATI PEMILIK FAN PAGE FACEBOOK YANG MENGHINA ISLAM - JULI SUMARDIATI PERNAH DIROGOL DI USIA MUDA | Pada ketika ini kecoh dilaman sosial Facebook apabila satu page berjudul “Murtads In Kelantan – MIK” yang menghina agama Islam dikecam dan identiti pemiliknya sudahpun diketahui.....Pemiliknya bernama Juli Sumardiati merupakan seorang pelajar cemerlang SPM Terengganu 1989.

Juli merupakan penuntut di MRSM Kuala Terengganu. Selepas SPM, Julie kemudiannya menyambung pelajaran di Colorado School of Mines, Amerika Syarikat pada 2005. Di sini Amerika Syarikat, Juli menganggotai kugiran metal Halun dan Shadowed Grace sebagai vokal / gitaris.

Dalam blog ini, turut tercatat pengalaman Juli dirogol pada usia muda sehingga membawa kepada bibit kebenciannya terhadap agama. Apa pun alasannya, diharapkan pihak berkuasa dapat segera menyiasat dan mengambil tindakan ke atas mereka yang menghina agama Islam.

Ikuti kisah beliau,

Emilie’s Diary: Memory Trigger

I used to wonder about my recollections of the sexual abuse I experienced as a child. What I remember today are merely snapshots of flashbacks. Just like those in those black and white movies. I recall vividly at least several separate occasions based on the different timing and locations when and where they happened. However, details greatly vary. I cannot pinpoint chronology, nor can I describe how each episode began or ended for the most part. Why do I bother to know? Perhaps it is best not to remember at all; yes, the thought crossed my mind many times. I cannot help which memory I’ve carried with me for the longest time or which I’d chosen to forget. Nevertheless, they’re there, so I’m actually more curious to know why those, and not others that I remember. Or if they are actually real, and not something I made up for whatever reason. Of course they are not made-up, but if anybody accuses me of such, will I be able to justify my story?

Sometime ago, I came across a video which provided some clues to understanding this. At the end of the video, the speaker narrates his conversation with a young death row inmate whose life was certain to doom since he was a child; at a tender age of five, his paranoid schizophrenic mother tried to kill him with a butcher knife. Curious, he asked the boy if he remembers anything, perhaps all he remembers was what people had told him; the boy, leaned forward and said “Professor, I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but when your momma picks up a butcher knife that looks bigger than you are, and chases you through the house, screaming she’s gonna kill you, and you have to lock yourself in the bathroom and leaned against the door and hollered for help until the police gets there, that’s something you don’t forget.” (The rest of the video doesn’t really relate to my subject matter but I recommend watching it anyway for a few good things – understanding the suffering, proactive vs. reactive problem solving skills).

So, I call it “memory trigger.” What the boy experienced was something emotionally intense (Fear. Butcher knife). However, a trigger does not need to be intense. It just needs to be distinctive that it is memorable. It can be something as trivial as a simple sound, smell, taste or vision, and it may only last for a few seconds. The recollections are pieces of memory that center around the trigger. These faded patches that provide the details are sort of unintended consequences of that trigger, really.

So I thought through the events that I believed had taken place in order to test this theory and for each event, identify the associated memory trigger. The most vivid would have to be this one particular experience. I was napping. I was little, couldn’t have been more than four or five years of age. I woke up to find a man spooning me, his penis between my legs. Not inside my vagina, just between my legs. I was a bit afraid I suppose, but I was more drowsy and having just woken up and confused, not sure of what to do. He then realized I was awake, I guess my body must have stiffened all of a sudden. He slowly pulled away, got up – all the while me remaining still with my back towards him – and as he was putting on his pants, his belt buckle clinked. That clink. That clink that remains with me until today. That clink was the trigger that made me remember.

And then there was the one when my mom was cooking in the kitchen. I was in a locked room with this man. My abuser. He did things to me, details are sketchy, but the sound of fish frying was loud and clear and it stuck in my brain until today. And the one when we kids were playing hide and seek and I hid under the bed covers among unfolded laundry and this neighbor teenage boy slid his hand into my panties. I refused, but he started saying another girl friend of mine didn’t refuse when he did the same thing so I should let him. The musky and dusty air under the covers, along with the words that he whispered to me, were the memory trigger.

One night when I was 11, I was staying with a married cousin, and I woke up, and I realized my cousin’s adolescent brother was breathing heavily on my neck. It frightened me but I froze. I didn’t tell anyone. And there was the one with the neighbor’s teenage son, we kids we were playing in the attic and then he must have told his sister to leave, because I forgot what happened next except that he fucked me, and afterwards told me not to tell my parents. I remember putting my panties back on, one with black and white stripes. The heavy breathing and my striped underwear were the trigger.

And then there was the painful one. One day my family and I were watching television and I was lying on a metal swing in the living room at the back under the covers and this guy, a regular abuser, slipped his hand and started touching my vagina. Yes, I liked it. By then I was a regular masturbator, so when he told me to follow him to the balcony in the back, I relented. He locked the door and we fucked. It was good, but it was also very painful. Afterwards, he unlocked the door and I went to pee and I remember the sharp pain. My memory trigger. And as far as I am concerned, that was the last time I allowed them to touch me.

I used to think, was there something seriously wrong with me? How did I manage to attract these men? I was 5 when it first happened and 11 when I told them to stop. Exactly how many times, I do not know. I only remember the ones with memory triggers. But what I know for sure, that was the time when the self-hating and self-blaming started and lasted for the next 20 years or so.

Mungkin selepas ditahan, pihak yang mendalangi FB Murtads In Pantai Timur dapat diberikan pencerahan oleh pihak berkuasa tentang salah faham mereka terhadap Islam selama ini.

Sesungguhnya hidayah itu milik Allah SWT, semoga kita termasuk dalam kalangan yang diberikan nikmat untuk memperolehinya. Pemikiran dan pandangan Juli tentang Islam dapat dibaca di blognya, cattastrophenomenon.wordpress.com. Berikut kami kongsikan Biodata penuh Juli Sumardiati atau lebih dikenali sebagai Juli Jalaludin.
 

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