My name is Kevin R. Nash, and for thirty years now I have been targeted by groups of black men. They have a taste for humiliation, it seems, and my anus and throat have paid the price. The first time it happened, I had just gotten out of a professional wrestling match, and a few of my peers had invited me for drinks afterwards to celebrate. We were only mere blocks away from where I lived, when we were cornered by men in ski masks and hoodies - roughly five of them, all larger and more physically imposing than me.

It started with a fist, and then proceeded to kicks, knees, and elbows - they seemed to enjoy my suffering as they watched my face swell and blench, tears streaming down my face. Even after I had surrendered, they proceeded to repeatedly shove their fists into my anus. It felt like someone had taken my intestines and mushed them together, as if I were some sort of hamburger patty.

Over the ensuing years, the violence has gotten worse. I am now regularly subjected to anally and orally raping, often with several assailants ramming their slimy genitals into my orifices and forcing me to swallow until I choke. Since then my throat has become so injured that I can no longer speak - all I can muster up are occasional guttural growls or coughs. I've had to rely on text or text-to-speech software in order to communicate.

These horrific acts have left me feeling empty and broken, and my life seems to have no real purpose anymore. I get no pleasure from anything, not even professional wrestling, the thing I once loved working towards achieving. All I can do is hope that one day these men's actions will be brought to justice, and that I can finally find some solace.