She was not alone in her story - #vaw #dv

She listened attentively as she spoke her story Every word-Every phrase-Every emotion Spoke back to her She recognized this story Her story No shore, no distance could separate them A love unlike any other The reason that recognized no reason Slow progressive controlling of the mind and body Rewind to perfect love His reason for existence The trophy Picture perfect Fast forward to mental victimization The daily bullying into near-submission Taking more than what was given Alienating the mind The re-victimization that never was Her love and beauty had been chosen Brought to his country with a promise A trick on her mentality Emotional rape Shattered promises She depended on him financially Abuse that spread like a domino effect All against one One against all To survive She learned his mentality He gave her the key to freedom without realizing That someday never comes And in the end He lost While she lives on Shining brighter then the sun Healing souls through her art Changing mentalities because of her courage Her love, endless as the sea This was her story.

How it affected me & what I learned. #rape #dv #vaw

It's been over 6 years since the night I was kidnapped, beat, raped and nearly killed by a then ex boyfriend. How those years of constant and visible abuse, silent rapes, psychological brainwashing affected me are in itself devastating and yet the same abuse, injustice, emotional and psychological damage that nearly destroyed me also strengthened me.

This is how It affected me; what I learned and how it changed me.

The effects of constant almost daily abuse, silent rapes, intimidation, torture, emotional and psychological damage began immediately after the first rape. The long kitchen knife that was meant to be used on an entire family that dark silent night, she couldn't allow that to happen, he wouldn't allow her to walk away. From that moment.. she learned the word "NO" would bring their death.

The effects he caused through fear, violence and intimidation continued and progressed with each new rape, with each threat, with another punch or through his favorite knife. With the blood that dripped from his fingers after breaking the wall, the tree and I had to be thankful it wasn't me. The silence of those who walked by while his hands attempted to stop her breathing, they watched, they saw and walked away as if they had come across a horror movie scene that was meant to be enjoyed, admired, questioned perhaps and then forgotten. 

The absence of those who were present, the cries nobody chose to hear that morning, that day, during the afternoon, in the darkness. Every single act of violence, oppression, had affected every single part of my mind, body, soul. Breaking apart pieces of my past, present and future and leaving no trace, no memory. Numbing the pain was not only an option, it was survival mechanism.

The effects of long-term mental, emotional and physical abuse can not only be remembered, written, said, told, it can be seen. Affecting not only my memory but also my personality, who I was, whoever that was, to me.. she's merely a story, a fairytale pulled out of someone's distorted imagination, told only by those who knew her, those who claim to know and remember her. The her she used to be is not connected to the her she is today, in this moment. That is called depersonalization. Slow and progressive disassociation from the person she used to be, from the events and circumstances she lived through. From the life she, I survived through.

Having disabilities directly linked to the traumatic events which I barely described and breathing under the same sky as he without justice are part of what keeps me going today. Healing is a never-ending process which only time and writing know. One doesn't heal automatically as if by turning a switch on/off

Trusting again is only part of the battle when love can prove deadly.

What nearly became a tragedy, what was documented as another statistic changed my entire life path, dreams, goals for good and for bad, for better and worse, for change.

I chose to immediately let go, I numbed the memories with hope, I used up my strength to live when all I wanted was to stop breathing.. I didn't realize old wounds never heal, not without justice, without self-love.

What I learned

I learned that no matter how smart, strong, liberal, free and independent you are; you are still exposed and constantly at risk of some form of abuse be it mental, emotional, physical. I learned that no matter where you've come from, what color your skin is, the languages you speak, the skills and education you have, what religion you follow doesn't lessen the percentage of someday, today, in this moment.. being intimidated, oppressed, bullied, abused, tortured by someone you know. The fact is we are all at risk of some form of violence, some or all forms of abuse. It is up to us to help others realize and understand this simple yet important fact. To be aware of the truth, the risks, the facts and be given the awareness, education, tools to help avoid, walk away from, stop the violent abuse before it happens and while it's happening should be the goal.

How this strengthened me can be summarized in the following words..

Speak up for yourself and others. Seek freedom peace and justice and never submit to any injustice be it a person, thing or a law.

The courage to heal

Having the courage to heal doesn't come soon enough for survivors of violence against women, rape, domestic violence, incest. Most survivors instinctively hide deep beneath their pain, disassociating  the past and reconstructing their present in their minds.

Healing from extreme violence, abuse and trauma isn't a quick fix you can get from an expert, a program, course, prescription. Having the courage to heal takes time, it takes boldness, madness, it takes self love. It means going through hell and straight back! taking with you every painful experience and turning it into a lesson. Turning the injustice, the pain and anger into a work of art, a song, a story, something to be listened to, read, understood, touched.

Having the courage to heal comes when the survivor is ready, when the time is right, not before or after.

Courage is an inner strength, it can't be taught or given. More than anything.. courage is a process.

His truth. Her #truth. -The Truth

They say there is always two versions of the truth... here, in this space you will know my truth. The truth.  

  It's impossible to say if it all started before that night or after the blood spilled and dried away.... all she can recollect from those broken memories is the facts.

  From the moment his heavy fist broke her arm's flesh, she knew she was no longer in his presence ... she knew only.. that she shared a bed with a stranger. A stranger who forcefully forced himself inside her, not caring about consent, feelings, pain. His voice.. no longer recognizable, no longer heard.. in the midst of darkness and threats. A sharp long knife right above her face, in between her neck, threatening to cut her smile, to silence her voice, to end the beauty that had attracted him to her. She was forced to submit in order to survive. She instantly separated herself from that moment, from his face.. it was too late. Too late... #part1 #thebeginningoftheend.

Triggering stories and media #dv #vaw #rape #writing

When triggering material leads survivors to re-live their experiences causing unnecessary grief, pain, shame, disruption, confusion and why we need to rethink how media is allowed to openly make fun of an issue that is a global human crises. The following short story by "The Onion" online magazine might seem funny and normal to some but to most survivors of rape, domestic violence, teen dating violence and abuse, the Onion's story and their wrong use of words can be traumatizing and highly triggering causing emotional stress that can lead to depression or worsening of symptoms. Here's a preview of what The Onion wrote about the recent breakup between singers Rihanna and Chris Brown. The Onion published this story on May 7, 2013 for the world to read without adding any form of warning about the type of content you would be reading next.. “Despite all the ups and downs, I was so sure Rihanna was the one I’d take by the throat one day and fatally assault, and even toward the end I continued to hold out hope that we’d be together until the day she died at my hands from blunt-force trauma,” Brown, 24, said in a radio interview this week, telling DJs he still has abusive feelings for his ex-flame You can read that article here: http://www.theonion.com/articles/heartbroken-chris-brown-always-thought-rihanna-was,32340/ Being a survivor myself, this story became the reason why I decided to share the following story of what survivors actually RE-experience or mentally, emotionally after reading online recreated, rewritten satire stories, quotes that make fun of violence against women in general. Media's violent "entertainment stories." WARNING: Highly triggering story. Read only at your discretion. Before the early morning of April 21, 2007 Perla had already survived child molestation, incest, abuse, discrimination, rape, domestic violence, torture, kidnapping and attempted murder. Before that night, she had also previously survived nearly four years of constant abuse, violence, intimidation, rape, torture or "domestic violence." She had managed to become separated from her abusive ex nearly a year before but remained sexually and mentally enslaved. The abuse continued until a week before April 21, 2007 Perla had finally found the courage to overcome her fear. She knew this could cost her life. That night she received various threatening phone calls from him and for the very first time.. In a long time.. She answered back. It was as if she had shed a part of her that was useless, used, she found a missing part of who she truly was. She found her voice. R: "You know what I'm going to do to you if you don't open the door when I arrive.. I'm going to break in through one of the windows and drag you outside all over the parking lot then I'm going to torture you until you die." 3:00 in the morning, silence was broken by the sound of his vehicle approaching. He called her She didn't answer He called again No answer He began knocking at the door She didn't answer He called No answer He broke on of the weakest windows and managed to partly open the front door. Hardly any loud sounds were made and as he attempted to open the door; she attempted to close it. Minutes went by.. The threats continued and she stood next to that door for as long as she could.. Until she had no strength left to keep it closed. He opened the door The thorny red roses were the last thing she saw before he forcefully dragged her outside and pushed her against his car then threw her inside the vehicle. He locked the door and what came next was a long trip on the road that would mark them for the rest of their lives. He wanted it to end with a bad accident and he wanted her to go first so he took her seatbelt off but no vehicles went by ... the freeways seemed desolate This infuriated him, he stopped the car in the middle of nowhere. He took out his pocket knifes collection and asked where she wanted to die. He said he'd give her a chance to run but before she could respond he said he had a better idea He wanted to be caught! yet no cop would stop that car! During this ride to nowhere, a knife was still directly aimed at her stomach. He had been thinking a lot about the different ways he could take her life but hadn't been so descriptive as that night, face disfigurement would give him pleasure he said. Cutting of fingers or perhaps legs so she wouldn't escape. She wasn't counting the slaps across the face or the punches. She had been listening but was no longer present. She hoped also for an accident to happen but the seconds quickly turned into slow torturing minutes He parked next to a neighbors apartment and there he beat, raped and tortured her for over four hours. The planned aggravated sexual assault continued while two silent witnesses (men.) walked nearby and said nothing! despite the fact she was seven months pregnant. Nothing was said, no interruptions were made. From all the mental and emotional break downs, the beatings and the constant daily, weekly rapes she endured, she had mentally programmed herself to survive that morning She had told herself to survive! Then he said to her: I have something for you. This won't hurt I promise.. He placed the gun behind her seat, directly behind her head. Asked what her final words, what her final wishes were She had no words to say and she wouldn't allow him to keep any words from her, she wouldn't The seconds felt like hours The hours went by slowly Until the energy or rage left him he blacked out.. Leaving her alive She unlocked the door and quietly escaped. To be continued..

You don't look like a Survivor! #Writing #DV #Rape #VAW

While there is no exact definition for "survivor" I'm glad there isn't! #VAW When you place definitions and labels to What makes or defines a "Survivor" you're really just taking away a piece of that person's self-worth. Self-Esteem. Words, phrases and questions like * Survivor? * You don't look like a survivor * You're not a survivor * Are you sure you're a survivor? * What are you a survivor of.. ? * You have a victim mentality * You're a victim not a survivor * Your mentality is not of a survivor * You don't act like a survivor The list goes on.. What is a survivor supposed to look/act like!? All survivors are exactly that: Survivors A survivor is still a survivor. They, he, she, survived for a reason. Let them be! Once you've become a survivor then feel free to suggest a definition to "Survivor" Until then..

You don't look like a victim. - Jury #DV #Rape #Writing

Definition of a victim: 1. One who is harmed or killed "every pregnant woman needs to use the restroom." Why didn't you ask him to stop the car somewhere..? Maybe you could have asked for help. - defendants lawyer You just don't fit the profile of a victim they said. You don't look like a victim. A victim would be crying. A victim would have trouble speaking. A victim wouldn't be wearing the clothes you're wearing. A victim doesn't look like you. -Jury (Men.) More than half of them agreed. The rest became silent. Including the only two women who could have said something... Perhaps they were right.. I thought to myself.. You see -I was no longer a victim I was a Survivor! That is what I had been doing all that time... while he abused, beat, raped me. All I could do was stay alive. All I could do was survive! They knew nothing about surviving abuse, surviving domestic violence or surviving repeated rapes. They had no idea what the definition of a victim or survivor is. Someone doesn't need to fit another person's definition of a "victim" to be a victim. There is no single definition.. A victim is a victim & a survivor is a survivor Period.

She found the reason..

Empty words Feelings sick of feeling ! Seconds passing by... Lost in translation.. Flashing images of this life His hands smeared with her oxygen It's not the damage that was done It's the unseen and invisible The bottomless The emotionless The nothingness The everything The silence he left behind Unanswered questions No it's not the damage he caused It's the things he never had the courage to say To fight for In spite of his insanity He was He is Nothingness A silent thought Prayers that sleep all night The reason Unreasonable pain A story without cause Without reason

Red roses #VDay #Rape #VAW

Red roses, present at every moment. He lets them fall .... when he sees her there with him but she doesn't seem to notice Red roses falling from the sky... He was only a stranger to her. A stranger that seemed to be everywhere she went Red silent witnesses Present in the beginning and end Present at every rape! Red silent roses Their smell causes a kind of nausea Bright red like the color of the blood than ran through his veins Like a river flowing in his arm Every time she wanted to run away You see, he had no better way of showing his love, his hate .. Then to throw them at her face! Those disgusting red roses A living memory of every rape Holidays and B-days! Weekends were his favorite He had no better way of loving He had no better way of loving

Living memories. Dying feelings

Gray dark images Smiling pain Light dark soul Tattoos smeared with words Unforgiving name You took from her and forced it upon your skin. Died stained in your arm Running from room to room looking for her till you found the door and placed all your anger at the concrete wall Tearing apart with words Green cooling lakes mixed with blood A living hell Repulsing was her feeling yet you turned it into something worse You silenced her voice with a knife next to her throat while they slept while you .. Mirrors upon mirrors of blurred disoriented feelings Those forgetful feelings A body that's been used for days! He had no memory .. he said Only his smile A smile that couldn't hide the pain The hate Memories that fail to fade Feelings no longer living Only blurred hateful images Only your haunting eyes Smiling Fleeting

The unseen "gift" #VAW #Rape #DV

For every hurtful word you threw at my face, for every disgusting! dirty red rose you threw at my feet you also left scars that grew empowering words. For every second/For every slap/punch/kick/for every second your hands stopped the air inside my lungs; you handed me the tools to fight against oppression loving/brainless idiots! like you who have no life/no soul/for every rape/for every rape/for every rape/for every rape/you led me straight to hell/you showed me the way/And after all this time.. You thought I'd be empty of emotions/soul-less without an expression/an empty shadow reflecting only your memory/without a voice.. but you see, when you consciously decided to destroy this body/this soul and emotions you made the final decision to hand me a personal mission/you placed me straight on that road/the road that led to this purpose/A purpose that lived and breathed within this spirit before you were born! Thank you for bringing me that much closer... ! in the end/you Lost

No beginning. No truth. No ending.

There's no ending to a story without a beginning Words that change temporarily... repeating scenes that steal your identity Souls that kill without a single memory You will not get what you think you deserve Forgiveness isn't just a word I survived but she fell in a dark hole Never to return You ate her spirit You damaged her body You stole her identity The key is burnt That is our story No beginning No truth No ending

The "love" turned nightmare

What is love anyway? Nothing but a mixed cloud of emotions we think we feel and see, feelings that come and go vanishing in the mist. We cannot understand or measure something that doesn't exist. It is only after we have seen the darkest forms of this thing called love that we are finally able to distinguish light from dark. That is all. He had a dark side, a dark side only few could see. The ones who were privileged enough to be loved and hated by him. I often thought his dark side must be triggered through alcohol or drugs but I later learned it was neither. It was born lifetimes before. Something I never truly believed in or understood. He had one goal in life, to see my breathing stop. That never happened of course, whoever I was before was too strong to let go. In fact, I often think I stayed there with one purpose: to see him destroy us both. That never happened, he was too weak to let go. We suffered together. Until one of us let go. Until she let go. Left him there waiting ... waiting ... waiting. I don't write this part of the story and I probably never will. It's a nightmare nobody would understand unless you lived it next to me. I will keep those nightmares with me. The many faces, voices, the many men in him. I lived not with one man alone but many. I learned to love a few of them and some I couldn't stand! One in particular I will never forget.. his child-like voice it was him at least ten years before. Lost in the world without anyone who cared or even stopped to ask a question. It was only his mother he searched for. I had to watch over him like he was my own child. I could have easily escaped each time this personality took over him but I couldn't leave him there. I just couldn't and so the nightmare began or ended shortly after that. I never understood his anger, the darkness in him, I only lived it. At times embraced it. More than anything I will never forget the many languages he could speak even though he never finished his education or the strength he had to break the inside of a broken truck filled with fire, he rescued the man who had just killed an entire family on the road that day. He had more courage than the firemen standing feet away. The qualities he had of course, we're only used at the right time, with the right people. So nobody believed a single word she said unless you happened to be her friend or mom who often saw bruises here and there. Bruises she couldn't explain. Perhaps love shouldn't be called love. It's less than a description. Less than a feeling or something you do. In this story it was merely a mask and nothing more. How do you go from one instant to the next as if lifetimes had come and gone.. as if you never knew this person. From that thing called love to being unable to breathe because he's choking you. Time after time, rape after rape he failed at his own goal. You couldn't blame that on him because the him you knew doesn't even exist. In a matter of minutes that seemed more like hours or perhaps they were hours, he would come and go. In his place would be the everyday person/thing who somehow had no memory left. Eventually I had a name for each one of his distinct faces. One in particular was the worst, you couldn't feel your own fear knowing he was near. He's the reason I left him there that morning, waiting... waiting... waiting. I was never afraid of dying, in fact i was prepared. I was only afraid of living that nightmare with him or the many him's

These 16Days. Education & Violence Against Women

It's not just the advocating of women rights that is important in order to promote awareness and help put an end to violence against women worldwide. It is the advocating or teaching of your rights, his and her rights, their rights. The right to live free of violence and fear no matter who you are and where you've come from. The right to live in peace. I had a meaningful conversation with a friend this morning, he reminded me of the need to be aware, to be educated and empowered. To help prevent the circumstances that often leads to failure conflict and violence. When women are aware of their rights they become more empowered and are then able to better defend themselves when faced with extreme challenges or circumstances. Education is a vital tool to end many of our world's problems. ~ quote from a friend That conversation led to some of the most important memories I had managed to delete In my case, not being aware or having enough knowledge and education of the laws that directly affected me - led to not getting the justice I still seek today. I would not be writing these words if I would have known my rights that day. If I would have understood the simple meaning of coercion fear and rape How many women today have lost their dignity, their freedom, how many more... have seen injustice because they don't know their basic human rights! I can't go back to that day but if I could stand there again, I would not remain silent or allow a group of "educated men" to dictate the rest of my life without justice. To be left without a story, without questions or answers and wondering what the * went wrong to begin with. To question even..for..a..moment if in fact.. I was not the victim of years of constant physical, mental and emotional abuse, a victim of rape and interpersonal relationship abuse or domestic violence. I returned home that day with their insulting questions and words and the image of him whispering the words only I could understand. Another threat unseen. I had lost again but I was not dead.

Writing & International Elimination of Violence Against Women

Yesterday marked The International Elimination of Violence Against Women & We are now on the second day of [16 days] of activism against gender based violence.

This is also the first year that I am actively involved in the fight against violence against women and gender based violence which then adds more understanding of the effects and consequences that sometimes lead to further abuse or exploitation and the trafficking of women. An issue I was already deeply involved in advocating against. However, to advocate against rape, domestic violence and violence against women doesn’t come easy when you’ve survived these often ignored issues. This year I found the courage and healing needed to take this important step thanks to an amazing group I work and volunteer for “The Pixel Project” to learn more about the pixel project’s work to eliminate violence against women worldwide through their innovative and creative campaigns visit: http://www.thepixelproject.net

I have been sharing mostly poetry on this blog revolving around the issues of violence against women, rape and domestic violence. The poetry reflects my own story and the stories of many women who have experienced abuse and oppression in their lifetime. These poems and the brief segment stories I’m about to share daily during the 16 days of activism against gender based violence will reflect not only my story but also their story. My personal way to break the silence. Part 1. The words and feelings I ignored. I can’t remember everything I said to him or everything he said in return but I can still feel the turning in my stomach, the doubt, the sudden fear I had never felt before. These were the feelings I felt, the feelings i ignored. The words he said fell to the floor, vanished in the midst of our unthinking imagination and dripped in flashing colorful smoke. I can still see his arm, the marks of violence, his victims notes his darkness, his plan was not yet known to her I can still hear his words that fall like rain but I can’t hear what he says his hands and the stolen kiss that made everyone think it was ok I’d forgotten how to say NO! Saying no to people, to men was my lifelong expertise No more She didn’t read the signs but she could see them She didn’t listen to the sounds of their voices The screams behind the marks he proudly showed To understand this almost dead response from her you would need to rewind time Rewind the place, the experiences, the silence she had slowly …learned The tears had escaped hours before leaving home that night It was Christmas eve A time for family and friends She wanted to escape She found herself in this place The one place where she could lose herself inside the noise that didn’t allow her to think Surrounded by music and smoke Only this time… She lost herself there She let her go Just in time He found her The perfect subject A perfect time Her nightmare had just begun A nightmare that didn’t seem so nightmare After all.. He was there to listen to her.

Words, thorns, red roses, #Rape #DV #Writing

Loud words, silent thoughts. Words that cut open. Red roses full of thorns scattered all over the front door. The nightmare was half over, that morning an officer said to her; you're one of the lucky ones His mind Is..... He went on to repeat his words Why are you arresting me!? He asked. "I didn't even kill her!" he seemed disappointed at this fact. She was still alive. The blood slowly dripping inside, drowning the unborn baby The blood couldn't be contained, life was ready to begin Life happened They said she had visible scars but she could see none, she couldn't feel them Perhaps.. she had learned to live with them Those words would echo in her mind time after time Time After Time Their color, the thorns and smell was the only vivid reminder he'd left behind... scattered all over the floor, she was there again to pick them up or so she thought ..

Her Story #DVAM #DV #Writing

Her Story

She writes her story one more time then burns her written words. She watches her words from far away but still feels their pain

Forgotten

Lost

Destroyed

Empty words

She writes her story once more

Her heart feels no more, brief moments of happiness that come and go

Her story is the story of many women who loved and lost. Her story is their story.

A love that almost killed her

Blind love

Trust was her choice and in the end she lost

Only pain, memories, darkness, empty words

There was a light

Blue/Black/Purple light that separated them both

She didn't cross this line

He was afraid to go through the light

destiny found them again and placed them on the same dark road

Two lost souls

She loved

He pretended to love

She trusted

He didn't trust her

She gave everything and he gave nothing at all

Only pain

He planned everything

His drug was her pain

He couldn't let her go and she couldn't walk away

He slowly took away everything and everyone she loved

The darkness was comforting compared to his voice

Compared to his eyes

His hands

His soul

She pretended to love

Her memories begin to bleed one by one

They become unbearable to her

Watching her from far away

She slowly faded away

She died but her body was still awake

From dusk till dawn! She had to endure his words, his body next to hers until she was free from his face

The memories still haunt her today

The fear of him hurting loved ones was stronger than her fear of being raped again

This is why she couldn't walk away…

Screams

Blood

Red roses she didn't want

The smell of flowers made her sick

She smiled when she was hurting inside

Fear came to her each and every-time he wanted to go on the road

She knew she couldn't say no

She knew what he would do to her but she had faith

That night, she prayed he would crash and their lives would end

The end never came

She had to survive through one more night of his idea of love

A love that played with a knife

Torture

Cuts

Pain

Blood

Tears

Screams nobody could hear

Screams they ignored

Dark memories come and go

He made her feel nauseous but she couldn't show a sign of unhappiness

His hands did most of the damage that could be seen but his words cut her soul

Seconds

Minutes

Hours of unending pain

His eyes still haunt her today

The food flying across the room

Silent Screams

Tears everyone ignored

He would beat her while his family walked around the room

No one said a word

Silence was all she heard

She begins to write

She feels her words

Until all her memories

All the words are written and she is free again

Free from her dead memories.