The Story of Star Children

For the purposes of this post, the things you are going to read are about domestic violence from a woman’s perspective, at the hands of the men in her life. That being said Domestic Violence does not have a gender identity. It happens in EVERY community, regardless of race, creed, color, nationality and size. Please approach this post with caution before, during, and after reading.

There are days when I look back at my past and I find the humor, and the joy, in being all the things that make me who I am. I am the girl who died because her mother’s boyfriend threw her down the stairs and she broke her neck.

I am the girl who had a conversation with Death about not being ready yet to die, to transition to the place of NOT being on this Earth, but then a weird thing kept happening. I kept dying. Little by little through violence and neglect at home, and abuse outside the home, my soul died in layers until there was nothing left but a shell of a human trying to pretend that she / I, were not irrevocably broken.

Because I kept dying I travelled through time and space to places that seemed impossible, using film and television, stolen comic books, and the internet as my gateway to a world that I was told could not possibly exist.

I’ve sat down and had tea with Black Panther, and I’ve discussed politics and legalities of signing your autonomy over world peace with Ironman.

I’ve travelled the universes and stood at the edge of the galaxy with Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence, and I’ve fought against evil aliens side by side with Channing Tatum and Mila Kunis. In a very real way I have been blessed by the Owen’s sisters from Practical Magic, and I’ve danced with the women of the Ya-ya Sisterhood.

I’ve rapped with Eminem, and I’ve leant Fifty-Cent five dollars, without him being able to figure out why no matter where he goes he ALWAYS has a five dollar Canadian bill in his back pocket of every pair of pants he owns.

I’ve laughed at Captain America’s confusion and I’ve protected Spiderman from the mobs who want pictures of him now that they know he is really Peter Parker who is really Tom Holland, and who should never have been anyone else except for Miles Moralis.

I’ve laughed with the Flash and run with Quick Silver, I’ve kissed Wolverine (he kisses like a fish, BLEGH), I’ve seen the God’s go to war, and I’ve seen them stare down at humanity in utter confusion, and none of this would have been possible if I hadn’t been abused as a child.

When you are abused you start trying to find ways to open up avenues in your mind to pretend that it’s not happening. Thanks to Sidney Bristow I’ve been a CIA Agent, and I’ve fallen in love. Because of Buffy I learned how to fight Vampires like Faith, and work with them like Spike.

I’ve seen Hawkeye sit on my couch and play with his arrows because he has nothing better to do, and I’ve watched as all those around me thought that I was crazy because they can’t fathom that the worlds that I see exist.

Ironically, it’s BECAUSE no one else can see what I can see that I am alive. It’s because of the lessons and the friendships of these otherworldly creatures and super hero’s that I am here today to tell you that yes, it does fucking get better, it doesn’t suck ALL the time, but for a lot of the years that you are being abused it is going to feel like it’s never going to end.

I remember coming home to find that my guardians boyfriend had trashed our house, top to bottom, he ruined every inch of our house except for my room that I shared with my favorite human, my adopted little brother.

He destroyed it because he was angry, because he was jealous, because my mom had decided to end things, because he was sick of being a nice guy, because the day ended in Y, the sky was blue, I was ignorant for a ten year old, because because, because.

There weren’t superhero’s back then. There were cops, and they didn’t really have much to say because what do you say to children whose entire homes and lives were destroyed by abuse? We stayed at a neighbors house that night, and well…the darkness came, it always did.

I’ve never had a bedroom or a home where I’ve felt safe, where I’ve felt protected loved, and cherished. I’ve never had men who didn’t look at me and think, “I should leave her alone,” and then actually LEAVE ME ALONE. Instead they abused me and said “it’s her fault, the Goddess said I could.”

This became a routine pattern, because the pedophiles in my life genuinely believed that they had permission from the God’s and the Goddesses and the Universes to destroy my life for a few moments of pleasure, and a lifetime of fear and wondering.

In grade school my friend CJ came to hang at my house and we pretended to have a nap, it was the safest that I’d ever felt until that night. I had a dream that Angels came, and they were coming for me. They were dressed in Black robes, and they were praying and chanting in a circle outside the house, they were marking my house for trouble.

I could feel the darkness, and I prayed to God to please let me get big so that I could fight back against the darkness that constantly seemed to find me no matter where I went.

It took ages and ages and ages, but I’m here now in this place, somewhere in the universe, dancing with the most amazing people on this planet, and those from other planets, I’ve had people tell me what I SHOULD do, even though I was already doing the thing that they were telling me to do, they just couldn’t see it, so they didn’t think it was happening.

All those moments of “am I crazy?” “Did that just happen?” The answers are quite possibly, and yes, it did. I’ve had women pretend to be me, and men try to murder me, simply because I exist, and all because it started with a boy who refused to keep his hands and his mouth to himself.

This happens so often that it’s actually a right of passage these days, but for people like me, for Gypsy’s symbols absolutely do matter. A first kiss should be done when you are BOTH ready, but I was never given the chance to get ready, they were always forced on me, and every single time each kiss brought me closer and closer to darkness.

I had to use movies and television, the internet, and doors in the middle of parks to escape, I had to use my imagination to believe that I could change the world by making sure all my abusers knew that one day I was going to be the most powerful creature, thing, person, human God, Goddess, Faerie, Angel, Demon, in the universe.

I am all of those things, and none of those things, because there wasn’t a word for me when I was born and there isn’t a word for me now. John Cena calls it a “Spark,” and I have learned that it takes a really long time for what you know to be true, to be translatable to all the people that matter to you, regardless of the reason, so that they can understand you better.

I’ve had men tell me that I am going to do EXACTLY what they say I am supposed to do on the pain of death or worse, and believe me, there are many, many more things worse than death.

And the reason that that particular kiss meant so damned much, isn’t that I enjoyed it, or that the boy mattered, it’s because the more it happened the more that I realized no one on earth was going to save me, so I had to save myself.

Children come to this planet expecting to learn, it’s like graduation:

You are not a “creator”, you are a librarian sure, a story teller absolutely, but you don’t OWN these stories any more than I own my cats or dogs. They are a part of my life because “I” am the meant to tell them, because “I” am meant to be the one that shares with you the wonders that “I” have seen. Like hundreds of storytellers before me, I am ever evolving, ever growing and ever realizing, that the Earth is not the Garden.

It’s not a living library, persay, it’s an entire ecosystem filled with all these combative elements that are gathering together like a storm in an effort to destroy itself as if the Earth herself doesn’t like what she, they, he, and them, see every single day, and honestly, as a eight year old girl I could understand that.

Take one of my youngest abusers for example, Paul I think his name was. He once leaned on a tree thinking he was a lot like James Dean, and said clear as day “the bruises stop when you do what I say.”

He was going to tell my secret, and it was a secret that I was going to do anything to keep no matter what. I wasn’t just an Angel, or a Goddess or a Demon. I wasn’t just a Human or a Faerie I wasn’t just a Super Hero, I was everything and nothing, because I was a child filled with the possibility that I might one day do something great.

I am everything because I don’t come from this earth, I know that now and I guess I’ve always known it, because honestly I’ve always been the “Loud Mouth Warped As Hell, Holy Shit, What is wrong with You, Why Are You Like This, Quiet Down, Stop being so Brown and Loud, Brown Girl.”

In big ways and little ways I have travelled through time and space doing exactly what I needed to do to make sure that all the versions of me before me existed in one way or small ways, in large ways and tiny ways I have been the thing that influences the world even though the world likes to pretend I don’t exist.

One night, Kayla told Logan about a spirit who was tricked into being parted forever from his lover, the Moon. Stemming from her Native American ancestry, she recites a story to Logan about a spirit named Kuekuatsheu (pronounced in the movie as koo-ay-koo-aut-soo and translates into ‘Wolverine’) who fell in love with the moon but was fooled by the Trickster into stepping foot in the mortal world from which he could never return. Thus, the spirit, Kuekuatsheu was parted forever from the moon, was subsequently forced to look at the Moon forever and never be with her again, howling at her whenever he saw her.

Xmen Movies Fandom

I’ve often thought of my future, present, and past like the moon and her lover, I’ve often thought of kids who get abused or traumatized by war and politics, as my brother and sister Star Children. I’ve often thought that if we could be anything in the entire world, why would we choose to be just one thing?

In my head people around me knew that the kids that I surrounded myself with in my early years were special. In my head I believe that they truly thought that we could change the world, I believe they knew that we were going to face darkness and they tried maybe not their best, to prepare us for what was coming.

We didn’t know, and didn’t know to be be prepared to see all the darkness that crawls along this earth, and films, television, comic books, all the various forms that stories are told, gave us a way to escape the darkness.

They encouraged us to believe that maybe we do have super powers, maybe Captain America really did stand in my foyer when I was about eight years old, maybe the very fact that I was standing there, holding a Captain America comic book counted as “Captain America is in Devon’s foyer right now, oh God John Cena is in the parking lot.”

Maybe to you it’s not a big deal that I can see The Rock on my television screen right now, which means that I am watching something he did in an entirely separate universe, dimension, time, and space from mine. Maybe that means he really was there whispering “I’ll be watching Little Girl,” even though I couldn’t always see him.

Maybe it doesn’t matter to you that the little Angel inside of me thought and continues to think that this is true, but it means everything to me.

“Celebrities are human,” is the most untrue statement on the planet. They aren’t famous because they do nothing, they are famous because whether or not they know it they save lives simply by existing. Because they existed I believed that I could be safe one day.

From time to time I don’t wonder if that’s true or not. It was in Lion King that the head of the pride Mufasa said that the stars were the mirrors that reminded us that there were Kings and Queens before us.

We honestly have no idea where the universe started because even the oldest of the oldest records are so filled with information that it’s nearly impossible to decipher it all. So the Star Children you see…they made a choice.

They are here now, all over the world, protecting children from being abused, and yes they are inundated with fakes, frauds, and abusers claiming to want to help but really wanting to teach us to disassociate so they can keep ripping at our souls.

Children who have been have been abused are affected in big and tiny ways that destroy the way you want them to think and forces them to think in a way that is about survival of the heart and soul. At all costs children will do whatever they can to protect their heart and souls after abuse, and I know this because I knew that I couldn’t protect my brain from all the harm that was being done to me. I had to make a choice between protecting my heart and soul, and my brain. I did not choose my brain.

Film and television helped me escape, and it turned me into someone that I thought was really a creator, but is more truly a mix of everything I could possibly be if I survived the hellscape that is life on THIS earth. Earth-616

As I write this I am returning to my home planet by way of a vehicle called a Space Ship. We call her Elmer because of the glue we were taught to use in the 1st grade.

There are many who are leaving, and many who are staying behind with me to continue the work of our kind, but each of us knows that what we do moving forward, regardless of what happened to us as children, will have an effect on the next generation. No matter what world we live in.

Too many times in British Columbia and around the world when children claim abuse and run for cover, they are returned to the very same places, or worse, where the abuse is a lot more damaging without anything that reminds you of comfort or home. Surrounded by people who will feed on your souls, to make themselves feel better, while you cake yourself with makeup to hide the truth of what you are, so that the darkness might leave you the hell alone.

Children do all kinds of weird stuff when they are in pain, but they should never, ever, be punished for being in pain. Unless as children and adults they make a conscious choice to repeat the patterns just because they think that hurting others is the thing that makes them special. Hurting others doesn’t make you special, there are lots of people that can do that, can you lift others up? Can you be there in the darkness to hold their hand and whisper how okay it’s going to be when it’s over?

Star Children are not born just out of stars, they make a conscious choice to be here, to learn and to see what can be if they just believe that they can be stupendously famously weird, so the next time the darkness comes for you just PLEASE remember, that even Star Children need help once in awhile. Remember also that not EVERYTHING stuck in the shadows, is there to hurt you. Sometimes the shadows are protecting the ones that are TRYING to protect you.

Star Children may transcend space and time, but we still sometimes have bodies that have pain, that feel sorrow, that feel joy and laughter, and we’ve decided that we’d much rather focus on laughter than pain. We’d much rather see the sun again, and dance in the rain, and we want to hear the dogs bark along the water as we sit and laugh with each other while we drink corona, and smoke the herb. So for that world to exist, you, as the grown ass men and women and androgynously existing people of this planet need to pay the fuck attention.

If you see something, hitting a boy in the head with a frying pan isn’t exactly the best way to teach a kid to behave. (Although I STILL flash back to when one of my earlier abusers’ mothers did that while he was inside my body, trying to reach through to my soul, and I still laugh about that shit. Thank you wherever you are Terry, You saved me from the darkness.) Perhaps therapy might do the trick. Perhaps jail time. In the immortal words of the Riddler:

Don’t kill him! If you kill him, he won’t learn nothin’!

Sending all our love,

The Indigo Stars

In honor of all the free children of the world, and those fighting for their own, please enjoy this free downloadable wallpaper for your computer or phone.