![my expirenence as a gay sex slave my expirenence as a gay sex slave](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51OAVgT6VrL._SY264_BO1,204,203,200_QL40_ML2_.jpg)
I was looking at the floor, at the feet and ankles of the militants and girls who walked by me. No matter what he did, and no matter how much I resisted, I would never be able to fight him off. I thought about being taken by Salwan, how strong he looked and how easily he could crush me with his bare hands. On the lower floor, a militant was registering the transactions in a book, writing down our names and the names of the militants who took us. I never thought I would have something in common with women in Rwanda – before all this, I didn’t know that a country called Rwanda existed – and now I am linked to them in the worst possible way, as a victim of a war crime that is so hard to talk about that no one in the world was prosecuted for committing it until just 16 years before Isis came to Sinjar.
![my expirenence as a gay sex slave my expirenence as a gay sex slave](http://static01.nyt.com/images/2011/06/19/magazine/19friend1/mag-19friend-t_CA1-popup.jpg)
Rape has been used throughout history as a weapon of war. But Isis is not as original as its members think it is. They even discussed sabaya in their glossy propaganda magazine, Dabiq, in an attempt to draw new recruits. Islamic State planned it all: how they would come into our homes, what made a girl more or less valuable, which militants deserved a sabaya as incentive and which should pay. He didn’t look like a man – he looked like a monster.Īttacking Sinjar and taking girls to use as sex slaves wasn’t a spontaneous decision made on the battlefield by a greedy soldier. His eyes were sunk deep into the flesh of his wide face, which seemed to be nearly entirely covered in hair. “You! The girl with the pink jacket! I said, stand up!” He was a high-ranking militant named Salwan who had come with another girl, another young Yazidi from Hardan, who he planned to drop off at the house while he shopped for her replacement. While I lay there, another militant stopped in front of us. Other girls were doing the same, curling their bodies into balls on the floor or throwing themselves across their sisters and friends to try to protect them. I howled and screamed, slapping away hands that reached out to grope me. If it was inevitable that a militant would take me, I wouldn’t make it easy for him. “Be quiet!” But their orders only made us scream louder. “Calm down!” militants kept shouting at us.