“For every Black woman who reports rape, there are at least 15 Black women do not report,” shared by Ujima Community. While this may not be alarming to some, black women like myself have subconsciously been conditioned to be silent about their sex traumas. Black women and sex trauma is a detrimental issue. Not only relevant because of today’s statistics, but this is an issue that goes back to times of enslaved melanated peoples in the diaspora.
When I started “The Woman Unspoken” back in Jan 2014, I had no intention of writing poetry or publishing a memoir. I only wanted to share my story to inspire and encourage black women and girls, who may been experiencing the same. I would post frequently on my old Twitter accounts, sharing personal inspirational quotes. Then, I published my first blog post/series, called “Unspoken Chronicles: The Sidechick” which ended up becoming poetry and prose.
During that time, I found myself experiencing depression worse.than.ever. I contemplated suicide multiple times as a Sophomore in college.
Removing all the layers of pain, anguish, resentment, and trauma that has built up over time. It’s the most… uncomfortable sh*t I have EVER experienced. I needed this to happen. So, I could put “death to the sidechick”. Stop dealing with these emotions alone and being prideful. To be completely naked with my emotions.
Annd still, I wasn’t content.
Either I felt completely hopeless or I was joyful. High highs, low lows. I was so used to having it all together publicly, that when in private, I cried a lot.
Just before school started for me at UM-Flint, I went through so much bs, that I had yet to process. From an ultimate betrayal by my best friend and my boyfriend going to prison. Graduating from high school with a 2.3 GPA, had me severely on edge. Asking the questions, that it seemed like only I had the answers to…and a higher power. Speaking of which, miraculously, I was informed that had just been put into place for first-gen students with low scores like myself, to still be accepted into college.
4 years later, I decided I wanted to write a book about my truths. The only person I felt comfortable talking to was my therapist and even then, those bags were a lot to unload. For fear of what others would think of me, I would go on to handle these emotions alone… or so I thought. Before I released the book however, I needed to confess one particular experience to my mom and grandma.
Having to actually confront what I didn’t even know I feared;
1. Being honest with myself about how I truly felt about being raped at 15.
2. Learning that the bum ass n*gga who raped me, was not only dating someone I knew, but having a baby with her.
3. Having to find a way to express 1 & 2 in a way that would heal me, not hurt me or anybody else for that matter.
I was going to seek revenge. I sought revenge. But no follow-through. I was too deep into writing my book. I knew the energy I would put into hurting him, truly counterproductive. Yet, that doesn’t mean I ain’t prayed on this n*ggas downfall. Anyhow, he is not the focus of this post.
I wanted to share that statistic with you to emphasize how much of a crisis black women have been in. Especially since silence is the theme and we’ve been taught to minimize our traumatic experience. It’s going to take some radical healing…self-love…self-awareness, to unlearn and relearn that we are NOT matyrs. Removing the idea healing is something we are not allowed to do. That it is okay to feel angry and anything else other than “Strong and a black woman”. Not show up as expected.
I could go on and on about healing from womb trauma as black women. If you don’t take anything else away from this just remember that…
We have gone through too much and deserve to thrive. To enjoy pleasure and positive experiences.
Don’t you think so?
With courage, love, & peace,