I’ve been thinking a lot about a speech that Barinder Rasodi gave about a decade ago, for She Talks.
Barinder said that women of colour don’t stop and acknowledge their accomplishments enough. She said that the reason we don’t do this is because we both don’t have time and don’t think it’s important for us to acknowledge to ourselves, “I did that.”
But it fucking is, it’s important to say “I survived that.” Or “I experienced that and made it through,” when it comes to trauma, to acknowledge your power however, is fucking terrifying, because the more powerful you become, the more you have the ability to cause harm.
I’ve thought a lot about that over the years. I know damned well I’ve hurt some feelings and ruffled some feathers, but the feathers and feelings I’ve ruffled all belong to really fucking terrible people, so…do I care?
Kind of.
Because I’ve seen what petty can do to people and how much it can escalate and how bad it can become, I want to put my swords down. I want desperately to be able to start fighting, but I can’t.
Recently, a woman in BC was murdered allegedly by a partner who was already convicted of assault and abuse. She’s one of six million reasons I can’t stop being the Loud Mouth Brown Girl, and after all this time, I genuinely resent the ignorance.
“Gang’s don’t use fear” claims a study released recently, which I know for a fact is absolute bullshit, because I am the result of what happens when gangs are allowed to move about freely without consequence. If the cops had done their fucking jobs, I wouldn’t be here today.
Femicide is a real issue, and yes it’s often a male partner. Often a white male partner, but not always. And yet again another woman is dead, kids don’t have their mom but hey it’s okay because yet another Go Fund Me will provide for the children. Jesus Fucking Christ Nyx, when does it fucking end?!
Day after day I get up and I try my best to “Make today count,” towards my mental health goals but I don’t always make it. I don’t always make every day matter because some days I can barely struggle to make a cup of coffee let alone function as a fucking adult.
This isn’t just because my brain is slowed down due to the drugs that keep me marginally (but not completely) sane. It’s also because my body is bruised, scarred, and traumatized by all the shit I had to go through to get here.
Trying to “Acknowledge” all of this, (and your own versions of your trauma stories,) can be incredibly fucking over God damned whelming. It can make you feel like you’re drowning. I mean I started this process eight years ago and I am only just now finding the proper words to describe the experience.
I’ve been learning to set boundaries and to stick to them recently and while I’ll say it’s easier with folks I dislike, it’s much harder with folks I used to have a relationship with. There are certain folks that I want to forgive, but I also know returning to those relationships would only bring me more pain than happiness, and so I’m sticking to my guns.
I’m doing all the things “Right,” and no, it doesn’t fucking feel enough because I am still battling the toxic language inside my head. When I think of my abusers the word “Goof” gets repeated a lot, “Dead man walking,” and much, much much worse, vivid detailed imagery that is terrible and so I won’t go further about it.
I’m trying to turn the negative into something positive, I really am trying to focus my energies on pushing forward through the dark toxic language inside my own mind, but again, none of this shit is easy.
The reason my internal dialogue is so toxic is that I have not dealt with my rage. Not just for me, but for all the children in my “Group” for lack of a better term, who were abused, and groomed into becoming womanizing rapists in their older years.
No, I do not forgive them, I pity them. I pity the boys that were, and the men that could have been, if not for abusers who took advantage of the most innocent among us.
I know that their children are being raised in homes filled with abuse, because that’s how the cycle goes. I also know there’s nothing I can do to save men who don’t want to comitt to changing their ways. That part hurts. The fact that they’d rather be known as pedophiles than victims, than survivors.
It means that out of all the people who were abused I was the only one brave enough to say “Enough is enough.” The only one brave enough to wake up and walk away. I tried to bring them with me, they didn’t want to come. They wanted to stay stuck. And so good riddens.
I acknowledge that I did my part. The legal way. The clean and legit way. I followed the rules to the best of my ability until it almost killed me, and when the choice was right in front of me, I DECIDED my life, was worth protecting.
The little girl inside of me did that, I can only honor her by continuing her work and remembering that no matter how powerful the abuser, it’s always important to speak out when one is able.
Or to help others escape when one is able to do that, too. If you have the opportunity to save a life, please don’t be the person asking why she didn’t leave; be the person who gave her a safe space to escape to.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl
Loud Mouth Brown Girl 