Truth Telling

Most women are taught to maintain relationships at all costs.

I wish I could say he came in the night, wielding a knife, cloaked in a ski mask and darkness.

Most of us are taught to endure it all, to stand up, to fight until our bones break.

I wish I could say I opened the door for a mailman with more than a package on his mind.

Most of us are taught to trust without any basis for trusting, to love in spite of violence.

I wish sometimes that it were some horrific violent attack, where the boundaries were clearly violated and no amount of self-blame would pass muster.

Most women are taught that if they only had changed one thing about themselves — often the one thing they already dislike about themselves — it would have never happened.

I wish that I’d known not to sing that song, to do that dance, to speak that word, to be in that place, in that time — where were my omens? Where were my zombies and lions roaming the streets?

Most women don’t reach out because people speak about these things abstractly, about if it were them the nigger would be dead, if it were them there’d be no excuse, if it were them… well, they wouldn’t do what you’re doing.

I wish I could run away. Do I need this body? I don’t need this body. Who needs a body like this one? I certainly don’t.

Most of us when we’re robbed start to rob the world of ourselves.

I wish I knew why it happened; I can’t trust the reasons and I can’t trust the man I’ve loved for so long.

Most women don’t realize the lack of trust and the overabundance of pain is more than enough reason to leave.

I wish I knew what I did to bring this on.

Most of us did nothing.