Over the last several weeks I’ve been working on a book called I’m Still Talking Too, and it hit me. I have a lot of stuff that I’ve talked about before, but that I haven’t really talked about. This site started as a way for me to say fuck you to the world, but the problem is that eventually people actually started to like what I was doing and I found myself hiding from the horrors of my past.

This post which I referenced yesterday, by Stephen Coghlan details the fact that at least 1 person remembers when I started this site and said that Bikers saved my life. And it wasn’t just the Hell’s Angels, there were a lot of people who ride motorcycles, who knew about the child pedophile rings happening in British Columbia, who genuinely did their best to protect me when it was over so that I could -eventually- start telling the truth, when I felt safe enough.

“But You Defend Hells Angels, Do You Know What They Have Done?”

Yeah, I know that they saved my life. “But they set a woman on fire in Surrey.” Really? Can you prove that? Because the person who did that has never been caught, and the police have never released the details of that case. I don’t know if it’s to protect the victim or not, but I do know that the House of Horrors was allegedly Hells Angels Run.

Allegedly being the operative word.

It would be very easy for me to deny my gang ties, for me to say “this didn’t happen,” but if I did that, then Dayon Glasglow really would be guilty of trying to kill Josh Harms when I know for a fact that he didn’t have anything to do with that shooting.

THAT BEING SAID. I have a problem with my hands. I can’t be the Loud Mouth Brown Girl without being authentic, and the fact that I am formally connected to people who claim to be associated with this idiot gang or another idiot gang scares the crap out of the people that I ACTUALLY want to work with.

When I was in a Narcotics Anonymous group, I was told that we don’t talk about the old days, we don’t talk about who we knew or what happened, but the funny thing is that the only time that got said is when women were speaking.

We were only allowed to share what the men in that group were comfortable with us sharing, which often meant hiding parts of our story, or living in shame because they didn’t want to acknowledge the horrors that women go through when it comes to gangs life.

The idea that women have specific rules to follow so that we stay safe is entirely built on the patriarchal system that decided a long time ago that women were too powerful to be able to speak out.

So when I finished writing the second book, I looked around my house and it hit me…how the fuck do I publish a second book on healing as a coloured woman when my past is so messy and I have so much to clean up?

Legend is the best film ever made about the gangster life. That and Public Enemies, because these two shows show something that most people don’t understand if you haven’t lived in cities surrounded by men who think, believe, or pretend to be gangsters to hurt the most vulnerable people.

In Legend Tom Hardy plays two completely different characters, one is straight, and one is gay, the gay one is a lunatic, because of course he is in the 1950s where it’s “disgusting,” and “gross” to be gay. The straight brother is slightly less crazy and falls in love with Francis. Fuck the spoilers if you haven’t seen the film you didn’t do the homework. The film is based on a true story. Francis dies.

In Public Enemies, Billy who is John Dillinger’s true love, spends years in prison, before dying in some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. In reality, he left her with a child, and she travelled to the states with his family, but at the end of the story, he’s dead, and she’s alone.

This was precisely what I didn’t want to be growing up, and I knew even at four years old this might be my reality because in the 90s everyone was trying to be a gangster.

So after I got arrested, I said that I would do this, and I did it, and then I said that the most important thing about this blog/business/brand/foundation, was that I was being as honest as possible. The problem is that when you come from gang life – whether you joined a gang by choice, or because they made you – you don’t really have a lot of control over what you’re allowed to say, even when you leave.

It’s an incredibly toxic world filled with people threatening to kill you, and in my case, and the case of a LOT of people I know across Canada, the words “if you say anything, the Hells Angels will kill you,” is enough to terrify anyone, especially a four-year-old.

But as we get older, stronger, and wiser, it’s more of a “what the fuck am I afraid of? I am who I am and I can do whatever I want. What are the Hells Angels going to do if I tell them that someone was raping me and my friends for years while pretending to be them? They probably won’t be mad….at me.”

But they might be pretty pissed off at the number of men and women who used their name, and their brand, without their permission, to cause harm to kids.

So the question became not, how the fuck am I going to talk to the Hells Angels who don’t fucking know me, and why would they care? Whelp, here we are kids.

The only way for me to tell the Hells Angels Biker Community that there are hundreds of people out there, running pedophile and child sex trafficking rings, using their names, while wearing leather cuts, with fake patches on them, was for me to tell the cops.

So. I did that.

And they had me committed. Repeatedly.

So I moved on. And I started writing blog posts when I was able, but the more that was happening around the world, the harder it was getting me to focus on how to heal from trauma. I have an entire textbook on how to heal from trauma, and it certainly helps, BUT the problem is that as amazing as the book is, I still wasn’t being 100% honest with myself.

But then “it” happened.

Someone decided that they were going to push back against Loud Mouth Brown Girl, by going back into the streets that I had left behind seven and a half years ago, and started spreading the rumour that I was a rat. Apparently, I’d been seen going into District 1’s Police station in Surrey British Columbia.

Over the last several months I’ve been detailing what’s been going on with people coming into my house, moving stuff on the balcony, stealing a box of chairs, (no, fucking seriously,) from my house, jewelry, money, wallets, even CUTLERY wasn’t fucking off-limits.

So. I got angry. I have worked really hard to move on and to forgive, but you idiots put a fucking target on my back and the last time I called the cops they laughed at me, as I explained how the door got broken in my bedroom.

I have told them repeatedly how he stands over my bed and touches me in areas he has no right to, and how i pretend to be dead until he’s gone. And then I scream, often for hours as my mother can attest to. As can the fucking neighbours can attest to.

So let me say this shit again:

The Hells Angels Biker Organization either has pedophiles in their ranks, and the cops are covering it up, or alternatively, my stalker thinks I’m a fucking idiot.

You can keep breaking into my house and threatening to kill me. You can keep telling me that you’re going to send an army from California to Montreal, you can keep pretending that I’m afraid of you, or you can accept the fact that I had no other choice than to admit that I used to hang out with Hells Angels.

I still know several of them, and they know, officially know, that someone’s been breaking into our house at night and threatening to kill me for talking about the Adrenaline Mob, which is not to be confused with the fucking tattoo shop (though personally, I hope that shop burns to the ground, along with Virgin everything, for obvious reasons.)

I am one of the many hundreds of thousands of survivors of child sex trafficking. From Japan to Istanbul, from China to Italy. I am not speaking for myself. I am not speaking alone, and often times just because I say I want to do better, doesn’t mean that I’m going to get the chance if the cops don’t do theif fucking jobs.

If I’m being stalked and raped in my bed at night, if I’m being molested and the cops aren’t hearing me, and if the politician’s want me to join their team because The Loud Mouth Brown Girl means something to the city of Surrey, British Columbia, it’s not going to mean much if the Hells Angels have to end a pedophile ring the way that “allegedly,” the Hells Angels take care of business.

Is that a threat? No, it’s a fucking hope because there are still children being raped in North Delta, forced into marriage, forced to stay silent, forced to do things that no child should have to do, and there are STILL MEN PRETENDING TO BE HELLS ANGELS RAPING AND MURDERING CHILDREN.


Why am I associating myself with a Biker Gang? Because if I have to go back to the way shit was, then I’m taking everything down with me.

Sending all my fuck yous,

The I TOLD you so, Devon J Hall!

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