The following was written by a friend and I was given permission to post it. It is raw and real. With that being said: This can be a potential trigger for some people so please read with caution and be kind to yourself and stop reading if you begin to feel triggered.
I am from playing in the neighborhood on summer days, lost for the day with neighborhood friends.
I am from fuzzy memories and a buzzy chest, tight throat.
I am from the white house and spin the bottle.
I am from stuffed animals and hours teaching in my playhouse.
I am from Flo on Alice and Nikki on The Young and the Restless.
I am from young dreams of being on a stage as a stripper and being rescued by a man who would see and delight in me.
I am from Penthouse, Hustler, and Playboy mothering, comforting, and offering embodied life and electricity. A glimpse of God running through my veins.
I am from being moved by faces, not words.
I am from electricity, tension, anger, and pressure in a room without explanation and yet the demands for my response being clear as day.
I am from a small town where you are loved for your family name and respected for upholding said name.
I am from the love of Granny Strick’s famous Mac n cheese, Nana’s chow chow, chicken & rice and chicken & dumplings, and Mrs. Smith’s apple pies.
I am from a long line of men who demand women are less than, unimportant, unseen, but their bodies are a temple to be devoured, offered at the man’s beck and call without question to make him feel like the most powerful person in the world.
I am from a long line of women who believed their role was to stand by their man because how he sees me measures my worth and value. I will be agreeable and fulfill my role as the orbiter of any man who needs to be worshipped to fulfill his destiny. This is my most important task in life. That and to make sure I jack him off well and look beautiful all the while.
I am from women who love a small god, ask no questions of him, have little curiosity about the small life they live even though they feel the call for more in their veins. Oh and we look beautiful.
I am from a body that holds much need for others and a newfound curiosity for my own need.
I am from a body that has been trespassed on by others without question or consent, all the while believing that I am a fucked up little girl.
I am from a body that lived with dread and a feeling of impending doom.
I am from eyes that can remember how my dad lovingly caressed his feet when he ate and was pleasured by his favorite food – mint chocolate chip ice cream, German chocolate cake, Maries dressing with cauliflower and broccoli.
I am from the memory of my dad’s sexy hands and a strength and smell I could not get close enough to.
I am from the label of too sensitive and too emotional. Tiddy baby.
I am from a long line of deceivers – men who cheat and women who deny reality with ease.
I am from a long line of entitled people – men who demand beautiful, sexy wives to finish them well and women who believe life should be simple.
I am from the label cry baby.
I am from knowing how to seduce my dad and bring him into a room by using my body and face to acknowledge and serve his young need.
I am from a dark, cold, dirt filled crawlspace where my seducer is turning out the lights and leaving me to die because he has no use for me any longer. He cares no more as I scream for help as I see death coming for me.
I am a masterful dancer moving with elegance, grace, and sex, trying to avoid the trap of envy, humiliation, and shame.
I am held by a mysterious God who calls me delightful. I light up his face. I’d love to hear Him call me by name. He consistently pursues my heart with Truth. Truth of delight from a rescue miniature dachshund with three teeth and a history of tail tucked trauma stories that show up in her choice not to use her voice. We delight in one another. She dances with joy for food, affection, connection, and snuggling.
I am from the Knight of all knights. Who has the ability to redeem with a glance, touch, word, or nothing at all.
I am from True Love born before the universe existed.
I am from a King who throws his head back with each of my silly attempts at telling a joke, being silly.
I am from Wind who moves through my body to help remind me of His presence in my cells.
I am from the rescue of the Son on a cross who was shamed for all the ways I’ve agreed with darkness and lies.
I am chosen. I belong.