I have a bed, brand new, that has never been touched by men. It’s never been laid on, fucked on, or farted in, by men. Just me.
I have a room that has only had 3 men in it, and that’s the men who moved my stuff in it. A house only 1 man comes into, and that’s the plumber on occasion, I have no men in my entire life, except for my neighbor P, who is fucking wicked awesome.
Other than P, I have a man-free life.
It’s really quite beautiful.
They told me that it would be cold out here without them.
They told me that no one would love me.
They told me I was unworthy.
They told me that because of the color of my skin, I would never be worthy of happiness, joy, or love, and I have all of these things.
I am proud of the life I have now because, by hook or crook, I earned it. I earned every inch of it, because of every abuse against me, every rape, every kidnapping, every single time I was thrown out of a car, molested, or abused, and every single time a teacher, doctor, lawyer, cop, or soldier, knew what was happening and did nothing, I fucking earned this.
I am in a happy place, and the only equation that I can come up with tells me that the reason that I am happy is that not a single person from my past except for N is a part of my present.
Bye suckers, have a great life destroying the lives of new girls because I’m out bitches.
I did my time in the trenches. I helped as many folks as I could and in return, I was raped, ritually abused and tortured, and traumatized by some of the craziest fucks on this planet, and THEN I was called crazy when I pointed to all the scars that are proof it happened.
I’m tired.
So I’m healing, and I am focusing my energies on using the Loud Mouth Brown Girl brand to talk about the issues that matter to me, and that’s life without gangs.
I’ve done some shit, I’ve seen some shit, and now I am here, and I love it. I really fucking do. I’m applying for something I really hope I get because it could completely change my entire life and future, and I have opportunities today that yesterday weren’t even a dream.
Things are really good out here, and it feels good to say that. To tell other girls and non-binary people who are struggling with escaping the indoctrination, the abuse, and the trauma, that it really is safer and more beautiful here.
They work so hard and do so well at convincing you that you can’t live without them, and that life will never be the same. And for a minute it’s true.
You break down and you start to ask yourself “What am I if I am not their “sacrifice?” (their word not mine), and then you start to ask yourself, “Who am “I” if I am not their sacrifice?”
Most of my abusers are in prison or dead, or on their way to one or the other, and I am over here living this fabulous healthy healing beautiful amazing life. Karma as I have always said isn’t a bitch, but she is fair.
A week after I moved in, I found out one of my rapists had been murdered and his murderer (they caught him since) was on the run. I laughed for a month. I couldn’t be happier for both because I knew one, and he was scum but murder is bad so meh, let em both rot. Together if need be.
When Rainier was arrested and charged I lost my mind. I cried, I screamed, I hospitalized myself, I went completely insane, because he was the one I was the most afraid of, and they caught him. I didn’t even have to come forward, but all these years later I want the others done with too.
I want every single man who raped me when they were in their 20s, 30s, and 40s, when I was a child to go to prison and to die there, because that’s what I believe survivors fucking deserve.
Instead of getting justice, we get told that we’re crazy and insane and that we’ve made it up when we have physical disabilities from the trauma they caused us and they are still walking around free.
That’s the part that I struggle with. That so many men, so capable of so much evil are just out there walking around, pretending to be something they aren’t, getting away with it, and terrifying victims into staying silent because finding out they MIGHT be who they say they are, would be so much worse.
I know that cycle so well. For fucking decades I believed that the most dangerous criminals in the world were my abusers. Turns out it’s just a group of pathetic old men who get off on hurting little kids.
Gross disgusting falling apart dying old men with nothing in their lives to feed on but the pain of children.
Tell me that vampires aren’t real and I’ll point you to my very real list of abusers, all of whom I can now name by name.
I’m pretty proud of how far I’ve come, but I don’t think I’d be here without P. He’s really helped me understand the male mind and show me a different side of men that I didn’t know existed.
Last week a kid needed his help, he asked me if I’d go with him because he didn’t want to be in the car with a kid by himself – he has kids, but this wasn’t a kid he knew, and he wanted everyone involved to be safe.
He’s a good dude. I didn’t know they existed.
Little by little I’m healing.
But I’m sticking to my promise.
Over my dead body will I ever allow any man to touch me ever again.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall, The Loud Mouth Brown Girl
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 