Letters

Dear Ellen, I’m Over Your Complaining

I was a huge fan of Ellen until recently – actually that’s a lie, I’m still a fan, but I am an irritated fan.

For the record, because I don’t want this post to be all complaining about Ellen, I sold one of my hoodies today. I made five dollars selling a $40.00 hoodie. Ellen makes five dollars every ten seconds, just so you understand the difference between our incomes.

That difference is huge, because I live in a three bedroom apartment, that I share with my mom and a cat.

Ellen lives in a huge mansion, with a beautiful backyard and she has access to every form of digital entertainment known to mankind. Ellen has options. Ellen has a lot of options.

Ellen also has a lot of complaints about being isolated, and frankly I’m over it.

I live in an apartment building, where not ten minutes ago I had to listen to my drug addicted neighbours yelling at each other one on the third floor one outside my window. Do you have that problem Ellen? Do you have to listen to drug addicted humans threaten to kill each other? it must be nice.

I do have to listen to this, because I live on Disability and the choices I have as to where I can afford to live are limited.

I have a hard time showering. This is important because I didn’t used to, about two years ago I had a panic attack and I ended up being arrested on an airplane.

That panic attack opened up a host of forgotten memories in which I learned to remember that I had spent most of my teen years being gang raped and passed around from one pedophile to the next.

Which culminated in me remembering that I had been gang raped in 2016 as well.

You would think after everything I have been through, isolation is exactly what I need, but the truth is I am terrified to leave my house.

In the last year and a half I have run into three of my rapists on four separate occasions, two of which ended with my life being threatened. I am terrified to shower because I can’t stand the sight of my naked body, which is why I have such a hard time putting on fresh clothing, with the exception of underwear.

For me wearing underwear is a privilege because when I was being raped I wasn’t allowed to wear underwear, it made it easier for the rapists to get to my vagina. I say “my” but my vagina doesn’t feel like mine, it hasn’t felt like mine since I was five years old.

Check your fucking privilege.

You may not know what it feels like to deal with mental health issues, but I do, so when you say you feel like you’re living in a jail cell, I feel like garbage.

I work really hard every single day to write something that helps to empower people. I work very hard to get my message out there to change the way we think about rape culture, you give away free television screens.

I used to dream about being on your show, about sharing my latest book or movie or something, just to be in the same room as the same woman who made me realize that it’s okay to be gay.

I will never forget crying the first time I heard you say those words, not because I was or am gay, but because….I’d never ever heard those words said before. It was the first time I’d heard anyone say “I’m Gay” to me those words translated to “I’m Ellen and I am proud of who I am” and that made me think I could be proud of who I am.

Only you don’t make me proud, you’re pissing me off with your absolute selfish ways and I have had enough of it. So have many of us.

You’re rich, famous and have access to any number of people to connect to in these difficult times. I don’t have any one to talk to.

I don’t have friends or family I can reach out to, I am completely alone with the exception of my mother who lives in a wheel chair and has to go to work every day.

I would love to go to work, but as you can imagine about two years ago during that panic attack I had a complete mental break down and I am still healing from more than twenty years of sexual abuse.

Please stop complaining, not because we need you to inspire us, but because it’s fucking exhausting. We know what it feels like to live alone without anyone to talk to, we know what it feels like to be bored out of our mind. We know what it feels like to live in isolation because we’ve been doing it for years, and when I say “we” I mean those of us who aren’t you.

Who don’t live in multi million dollar mansions, those of us who don’t have a list a mile long of people to reach out to and connect to in times of boredom, those of us who have the bare minimum to get by with. We know.

Your life ain’t that bad lady, so stop acting like your world is ending. When this is over you’ll go back to your television studio and everyone will tell you how much they love you and how great you are, while the rest of us will still be isolating because we have nowhere to go.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall

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