Trigger Warning "Look at how she walks. She is going to be hot as popcorn." I was 7 years old. The scorn of the words met the scorn in the eyes of female family members as they gathered, watching me cavort in the company of my same- aged girl cousins, gathered in a game of hide and go seek. The looks of the older girls and women who watched confirmed that while I didn't know what being “hot as popcorn” meant, I knew it wasn't good. I was confused about what it was about my bony and brown body that signaled this prophesy, but it was only one of many ways and only one of many times I was convinced, in my single digit years, that I was bad. That there was something inherent to my skin, to my walk, to my very existence that offended adults.
This piece was so powerful. And your writing is so moving. I’m sorry these things happened to you. The way women hold up the patriarchy is so heartbreaking. I hope we are better elders than the ones we had. 😔
This was incredibly powerful. I am so sorry that you had to go through all of this. I appreciate your willingness to be vulnerable and give us a piece of your story. It makes more of a difference than you may know.
Your writing brought me right into your story; I felt your confusion, shame, and distrust with adults that should’ve known better. You should’ve been protected. Sharing your story will undoubtedly help others—not only those that have been SA, but those who grapple with the adults that sexually objectified them from an early age. Thank you for sharing ❤️
Damn. I just went through trauma therapy to finally reckon with an assault from when I was girl. This resonated so much for me. A bit difficult to read in parts, as it should be. It is difficult. It is painful. It is terrible. Yet, sharing is so necessary. Writing it and creating record is necessary. I appreciate your honesty and your vulnerability here. Thank you for writing and sharing this.
Thank you for writing this! How scared you’re little girl must’ve been in each of those situations which she barely understood. I applaud her resourcefulness in getting to safety in each awkward and threatening situation.
I was angry at the “church lady” who surely knew, or should’ve known better than to characterize a young woman in such a way. I could so identify with your younger self trying to make sense of events, then having a hurtful truth emerge as friends betray, elders project and any sense of security is diminished or erased.
The Shame of Speed
This piece was so powerful. And your writing is so moving. I’m sorry these things happened to you. The way women hold up the patriarchy is so heartbreaking. I hope we are better elders than the ones we had. 😔
This was incredibly powerful. I am so sorry that you had to go through all of this. I appreciate your willingness to be vulnerable and give us a piece of your story. It makes more of a difference than you may know.
Your writing brought me right into your story; I felt your confusion, shame, and distrust with adults that should’ve known better. You should’ve been protected. Sharing your story will undoubtedly help others—not only those that have been SA, but those who grapple with the adults that sexually objectified them from an early age. Thank you for sharing ❤️
Damn. I just went through trauma therapy to finally reckon with an assault from when I was girl. This resonated so much for me. A bit difficult to read in parts, as it should be. It is difficult. It is painful. It is terrible. Yet, sharing is so necessary. Writing it and creating record is necessary. I appreciate your honesty and your vulnerability here. Thank you for writing and sharing this.
Wow! Every word of this felt familiar.
Thank you for writing this! How scared you’re little girl must’ve been in each of those situations which she barely understood. I applaud her resourcefulness in getting to safety in each awkward and threatening situation.
I was angry at the “church lady” who surely knew, or should’ve known better than to characterize a young woman in such a way. I could so identify with your younger self trying to make sense of events, then having a hurtful truth emerge as friends betray, elders project and any sense of security is diminished or erased.
Damn! A black girl ain’t safe nowhere!