“We must send a message across the world that there is no disgrace in being a survivor of sexual violence – the shame is on the aggressor.” – Angelina Jolie
Survivor “I still wake up with your name stuck in my throat, sometimes where it caught between your hands when you squeezed, I still wake up in fear, most nights, your eyes follow me from every shadow, every loud noise crowding the edges of my memory. I still wake up.” – Amber Koneval
Florence – by any other name
A double-edged irony
Dredged up shards from childhood.
A hurricane bearing grandma’s name
Following it, via internet
Feeling every blow, just as I did then
Even infancy wasn’t spared
Ask those in her path
Gone, neighborhoods,
Businesses, homes,
Evidence of life,
Gone like childhood
A survivor clings to shadows
Knowing the perpetrator
Knowing he, now dead
Grandmothers are supposed
To love their grandchildren
Not to offer them up to a friend
Send her in a dress, then
Leave as he arrives
All above board, a deacon
Of the church, above reproach
Earliest memories, not yet three
Rituals continued until age five
must arrive in dresses
Lay on a white papered altar
Bitter liquid gagging and choking me
Bathed after, sans evidence
Large, rough hands
So many years ago, yet crystal clear
Me too brings it back
But with resistance to perpetrators
Christine brings it back
But with the chutzpah to
Name the perpetrator, for herself
For all of us, even those still mute
Grandma Florence, I shall
Never forget, how you used me
To keep that friend coming back
No drugs, no alcohol, no consent
Nor, mother dearest, how you conspired
No words
Then beat me for being evil
Decades later, I shall never forget
You were all violent storms
That plowed through infancy
Leaving scars, deep furrows
that will never go away
I grew stronger, put miles, then countries
Between disasters, despite this
I was one of the lucky ones
I’ve worked with many
And watched some perish
But unlike Anita, Christine, Deborah
And the others that will come
I didn’t have to do it on television
Ladies, you are heroes
I doff my chapeau
At first, the storm approached
In fumbling verse
On pages in my script
Armed with keys to the assaults
Words from my lips, another matter
Finding a career path, finding others
Holding the light, leading the way
They find the path, or they don’t
Often tripped by the righteous indignation
Of abusers and their supporters.
Ignorance and misogyny could soon
Be the law of the land
–
How long will America fuel this war on Women, are they incapable of justice? The usual M.O. sweeping their crimes under the carpet and hiding behind a woman’s skirt as they do it. Senate Judiciary Committee will hide, hide from their dirty hands, and the repercussions.
With gratitude for those who have made a stand and in solidarity,
Me too, Léa
poetry, photos and musings oh my! 
Me too, Pamela
I am sorry. There are too many of us. Of course one would be too many. xx
Beautifully written Lea. There are indeed too many of us.
Thank you. As one who is more comfortable writing than speaking, it was my me too speech. My background is psychology and I’ve worked with Sexual-Assault and Domestic Violence as well as Child Protection and in a small counseling center. My experience, unfortunately, is vast and there is much to dol. Thank you.