abuse

I spent seventeen years in an abusive relationship. Not only do I the physical scars to prove it, I carefully tote a heavy heap of emotional scars. Humiliation, fear, and shame were poured into my heart for years, by a person that claimed to love me - my mother.

At 21, a man feels that it is his right to grab at you, from your crotch to your ass while you are relatively sober in a nightclub. Nightclubs become a nightmare.

My biggest dream was to graduate high school. To this day, my GED is the diploma I am the most proud of.

You don't get to beat someone simply because you have a feeling. And that is true whether you are a mother or a cop.

I can’t just eat in moderation—at least not yet. But I am fine-tuning and honing and perfecting my body with the honor, respect, and love of a hand-crafted sword.

It's easy and painless to poke our noses into the minutiae of other parents' decisions, but it in no way tackles the real epidemic of child abuse.

The more I told him that something hurt me, the more that he did it.

No one has ever threatened violence against me, or said I was too ugly to rape. Why? Male privilege.