My love goes to all the women who’ve been sexually violated in their lives but have never caught the courage to open up to anyone about it. Those who were raped by their fathers, uncles, their brothers’ friends, neighbours, and strangers, doing life in painful secrecy with the fear of not being believed.
I want to tell you now that I believe you. I believe your pain and your untold misery. I believe your courage and I know your fear. I believe the nightmares you still don’t have words for.
I’m sorry they made you hate your body.
I’m sorry you look into the mirror and see nothing good about yourself.
I’m sorry your hurt has had you hurting people who love you but don’t know what you’re ailing from because you fear they’d leave if you told them.
I’m sorry you second guess yourself a lot.
I’m sorry you feel alone in that abyss.
May you know your voice matters. That whoever does not accept your truth will not know how to love you. So do not be afraid to say it. That your story is not dirty or weird or funny or disgusting. It’s your story. As diminishing as it makes you feel, it can be the source of your power.
May you know that anyone who ever violated you hates themselves. They are angry and lonely and lost, and none of that is your fault. It will never be about what you wear nor how you speak nor the sexiness of your body. It will always be about their thirst for power, for impunity, and for injustice. And you’ve got to fight that with all your gut because that cycle hurts many others, both men and women.
I pray for your resolve. For your courage. May your voice come back. May your feet get the strength to carry you home. Home where your Light is seen and you are hugged and cherished. May your mouth find the words to put them all to shame, fearlessly. May you not die with that wound, child.