Their Words, My Voice

If These Heels Could Talk they would say that, "sometimes we have to speak for those that can not speak for themselves."

As you may or may not know, October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and domestic violence is something that I take very serious. I myself having been a victim of domestic violence in more ways than one and I find the numbers alarming.   I am a huge advocate about empowering those that are victims to be brave and speak up.  But I also know that sometimes even the bravest can get to the point where they no longer have the spirit to "fight" back. Or maybe they have spoken up only to be told to be quiet. 

I struggled as to whether I wanted to write this story or not because it is not a funny story at all and I most of the time try to stick to the humorous side of things.  If for nothing else but the simple fact that this world is already full of evil and everyone needs a good laugh.  This story will also reveal a part of my history that has never been told. 

However as I  put more thought into it and God whispered to me like he does sometimes, it was evident that I should go with the flow and do what I do best and that is write about my experiences.

I in no way view myself as a Pulitzer prize writer, I am just a simple person that carries a lot on my mind and in my heart and have found that writing helps get this out.  However, it was brought to my attention that sometimes what I write about others gain inspiration from.  I never in 100 million years have looked at myself as an inspiration. I was just doing what I needed to do for me, for my therapy. 

Recently I had a chance to audition for an upcoming movie that will be filmed near and surrounding my community. The name of the movie is Virtuous and is based on the lives of five different women and their different traumatic life  experiences and how they worked through them.

There were a couple of roles that I was interested in, however with the help of a friend (Jenny)
I ultimately came to decide on one that I thought would better suit my personality.  It was during my evaluation of which character I wanted to audition for that it was revealed to me that I should indeed write this story. 

There was a specific line in the script that spoke volumes to me, it read speak for those who can not speak for themselves; ensure justice for those who are perishing.

Now flashback to me when I was eight years old.  I remember loving to wear dresses every chance that I got.  I also remember this one particular day my mother, daddy and myself went to visit some of their friends.  On this day I wore my wedges with the strap and a cute little dress.  This memory sticks out like yesterday for me. 

The friends of my parents had an older son.  I do not remember his exact age but I remember that he was a teenager. And I remember hating him after that visit.  While we were there I made my way back to the restroom that was off from one of the bedrooms.  As soon as I came out he was standing there and he said to me, "I see that you are all dressed up for me and I see how you are looking at me." 

At eight years old I was terrified.  I had no idea what he wanted to do or what he was going to do, but I knew that he was up to no good.  I looked over and could see that he had shut the door to the bedroom. In the blink of an eye he had pinned me down to the bed and covered my mouth so that I could not make any noise.  The next moments went by so fast and I remember squirming with every bit of muscle I had to get him off of me. I remember kicking, twisting and fighting to get him off of me. And then I remember biting him so hard that he stopped what he was doing and I got the hell out of there. 

Now I tell that part of the story to say this.  I never told a soul about that day, until I just typed it out.  I didn't tell because I was scared I would get in trouble. I didn't tell because I thought that I had done something wrong.  I didn't tell because I felt terrible.  I didn't tell because I was embarrassed. 

Now that I am older,  I realize I should have told someone.  I should have told someone until someone listened.  By me not speaking up, I am almost certain that others were affected by this sick person.  Had I spoke up others could have been saved. 

So why do I tell now? It is simple.  If one person can read this and be encouraged or inspired enough to speak up about any type of domestic violence against them, then that is one person that can be saved. 

If others read it and think, I really didn't need to read that or if they wish they never knew that part about me, then so be it and I wish them well.  I assure you the pain of anyone reading a story like this has no comparison to what pain a person that experiences it carries. 

We have got to stop the cycle of domestic violence and abuse.  And the only way to stop it is to confront it and the people that are committing these crimes. 

I am a very vocal person now. And for a very good reason.  I will never not tell my story again for the fear of embarrassment.    I fight for those and what I believe in and I will never be quiet about anything that I know is wrong.  And if I see that someone else can't speak up for themselves then I will do it for them. I will use their words but my voice.