Emotional manipulation and fear of being seen as an “Islamophobe”

Whenever I called him out on the misogyny and horrible things in the Koran, he’d accuse me of being racist and Islamophobic.

Hey Toni,

I admit I’ve followed you for awhile but was afraid to publicly show my support when I was dating my ex, but found the strength to break away and I’m dating a wonderful American guy. I’d like to share my story with you, but anonymously because my ex & I used to work together and share some common friends.

I wasn’t groomed or raped, but rather it was a combination of emotional manipulation and fear of being seen as an Islamophobe. I had dated a Muslim guy in the past, but he was a Muslim only in name and only participated in holidays.

I grew up without a strong male role model and without a clear self-identity (I’m half Brazilian & European American). I also lacked self esteem and it was easy for him to use me.

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An Apostate’s Story: When my Dad found out I was dating

A 16 year old Muslim Apostate sends MARIAS her story


How would you expect a normal dad to react? Congratulate his daughter on reaching this milestone in her life? See her happiness and smile? Be thrilled at the prospect of future children, marriage, albeit slightly far ahead? Be nervous and hope it works out, wanting to protect her from heartache?

That’s what normal fathers do. I do not have a normal father.

“I do not have a normal father.”

I hinted during his numerous attempts to harass me I was dating by texting “I’ve met someone”. A fairly ambiguous statement. Not explicit. I was shaking, my breaths coming fast. I was more nervous than I was telling him this than my apostasy, which is saying something.

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Kaitlyn: Gang-raped, tortured, trafficked, beaten & terrorised by Muslim Pakistani Men

(Warning: This letter contains violent and sexually explicit references)

I was very young when it started.

I have a very fuzzy memory of the very beginning. My childhood friend remembers me being picked up from a primary school by an older man and being given ketamine, coming home completely out of it, with lots of new underwear, so it began earlier than I remember. My parents worked a lot, so they weren’t really around to notice anything. My friend did at some point tell my parents, but I’m not sure when she did that.

We ended up moving areas, but not too far, now my earliest clear memory starts at around 13/14. We had moved house and I was waiting to be accepted into a school, from what I remember. This man, the very same man picking me up from primary school came to my parents’ home while they were out working, and while my brother was at his school. It was a morning. His name was Jason, I don’t know if he was a Muslim. He was 28 or in his early 30s.

I was quite naive. He had come to take photos of me for a modelling portfolio — at least that’s what he said. They ended up being pictures in my underwear. Eventually he said we needed a different environment and asked if there was a bedroom we could use. I took him to my parents’ bedroom. I thought nothing of it, I didn’t realise it would get worse.

He took more pictures. Then he told me to take everything off and gave me some stockings to put on. I remember the feeling of my stomach turning over, I was really scared. But I did as I was told.

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Toni Bugle: My personal story of abuse & how I came to start MARIAS

(Warning: This article contains explicit descriptions of violence and sexual abuse.)

My story begins at the age of ten.  I had been sexually abused by a lorry driver, and although the police were involved, I was too young to give evidence and so the man walked free from court.

I was the youngest child and not very close with my siblings.  This event caused me to be even more awkward and withdrawn.  I felt increasingly isolated and as though I had no one to turn to.

Dad’s best friend

My Dad had a best friend and I used to call him ‘Uncle’.  He seemed to know that I felt out of place and different.  If I got in trouble he’d invite me to come and sit on his knee.  He’d take all of us for rides on his motorbike and he’d let me sit in front of him on the seat, protected, in between his legs and his arms.  All other passengers had to sit behind him.  This made me feel special.

At age fifteen, I began acting out at home.  I was being bullied at school and I was miserable.  My parents never knew about this because I didn’t confide in them.  One night, after being sent to bed early for fighting with a sibling, Uncle B, who was in our house at the time, told my Dad that he’d take me over to his house and I could spend the night there.  He was my Dad’s best mate and he had a wife and kids of his own.  What could go wrong?  I was excited to have someone looking out for me and taking an interest in my emotional well-being.

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12 year old girl molested & threatened by Muslim taxi driver

A letter sent to MARIAS …


I have been very scared all my life of telling this story; but here it goes.

When I was around 11 or 12, I was taking a taxi from my Dad’s house to my Mum’s house which was around a 20 minute drive.

The driver was a Muslim man who had taken me on this trip on many occasions; I felt I could trust him so I always sat in the front seat.

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