This post may contain stories or triggers memories that may be difficult for you, the reader, to consume. I apologize for that, but this website is entirely about talking about the things that we do not talk about. If you or someone you know needs help, please use this page to find a helpline phone number in your area. If you can’t find it on this list, please use any search engine in the world. You are not alone.
I’m a mixed-race Bisexual non-binary person from Surrey, British Columbia Canada. I’m 39 years old, and almost 22 years ago my abuser promised that for my 40th birthday, he’d be back to do it again.
I was taught by teachers, doctors, and even friends and allies to believe that it either didn’t happen and that I made it up, or that it was my fault for being born a girl with Brown skin. I’m tired.
I’m more terrified now than I’ve ever been in my life because I’ve never told anyone that before. He’s been in and out of my life for decades, and no one believes me because even though he’s a shit human being he’s charming enough to get away with raping children. No one believes the adults of childhood sexual abuse.
It’s hard being an adult who knows what’s out there. It sometimes feels like I’m trying to tell the world that there are aliens in the world, or that Trump is going to be POTUS again, no one believes me but everyone has no problem pointing at the freak, ie me.
I’m tired of talking about childhood sexual abuse, but I also know that if I don’t keep talking about it the stories will stop and we need stories of abuse more now than ever, we need to know that it happened to folks, we need to acknowledge that a lot of people’s lives would be different if they hadn’t been abused.
During the Canada-wide houseless count, I heard so many awful stories of abuse and trauma and I remembered why I can’t do that kind of work on the front lines anymore. There’s only so much for me to do, only so much for me to say, and none of it makes it any better.
It’s just different degrees of hurt, pain, and sorrow, so I keep writing in hopes that one day someone will think my story matters enough to keep trying to tell theirs. That’s the whole point of this.
It’s exhausting being on the front lines, but it’s also some of the most important work in the world, and I have so much respect for those who are doing the work because I genuinely believe they are saving lives and that is truly important.
I was inspired last week while we were going through surveys and talking to folks, and I know that I want to go back to school. It’s something I’ve been talking about for years but I’ve always been afraid to take that step because I was afraid of what it would mean.
It would and will mean a lot of work, a lot of hard studies, and preparation and I’m scared because I’m afraid I won’t be good enough but I also know I’ll never really know until I try so this year I am going to find some ways to get my shit in order and get my ass back to school by January.
I deserve this. I very much deserve to hone the skills that will change my life and hopefully put me in the position of helping others.
I think I just need to pick the right course and do my research to find out what it is that I really want to do and move forward from there. Yes, I was a victim but now I’m a survivor and I’m not afraid. I can do this, I can move forward and if he comes for me again well I’ll be ready.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall
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