TW: SEXUAL ABUSE This picture was taken in 2010. By then, the girl you see (me) was already being sexually abused. She had no idea of the weight she would be forced to carry, that the very people meant to protect her would choose silence. She didn’t yet realize that survival would mean shutting down the most innocent parts of herself or that she would grow up carrying a shame that was never hers to bear. Anyone who sees this as over the top or taboo has no idea that this is, in reality, a gross understatement. I am not the first in my family to experience this. My mother is also a survivor—not by family, but by someone who never should have had access to her. Like so many, she was expected to carry it alone, move forward without real healing, and exist as if it never happened. But trauma doesn’t just disappear when ignored. It lingers—in the way we cope, the way we protect ourselves, and the way we struggle to process what was never spoken. And if it remains unspoken, it doesn’t just stay with one person. It carries into the next generation. SILENCE PROTECTS ABUSERS, NOT SURVIVORS. When families, communities, and entire systems choose to ignore, deny, or minimize what happened, they aren’t just avoiding discomfort—they are allowing harm to continue. I refuse to be part of that cycle. I refuse to let silence bury the truth. This—the avoidance, the rewriting of reality, the expectation that victims should carry the burden while abusers sit comfortably behind their walls—ends with me. My father always said I was a great writer. I don’t think he’s gonna like this one very much. <3 (To be clear, my father is not the abuser, but he has chosen to protect the one who is—and has also kicked me out of my own house.)