I’m tired of victims having to hear that they’re “lucky”
that it didn’t go farther
that it didn’t escalate faster
that they didn’t end up like someone else.
how dare you use someone else’s struggle
to try and soothe her
to try and pacify her
to try and silence her into thinking that she is “lucky” for suffering in the way that she has.
as if her pain or anyone else’s is more important
or more valid,
as if somehow they have a right to speak out
and she doesn't.
how dare you suggest that she is lucky
when there are people out there
who carry the screams of their victims inside them,
who continue to harass and molest and assault,
because our justice system is not the only flawed thing in this nation.
That night, she saw a glimpse of emancipation escape it’s way through that door
Along with love-making myths and old tales of love. Love was now long gone for her
Love died that night she remember running Back home
Trying to find comfort in running the run she didn’t run when she had her legs trapped into a hell hole , tied up and wide open. His hands, a necklace too tight for her neck.
Woman to woman, she purposely confided in you
Hoping that loosing her womanhood in such a circumstance would bring her closer and you could free her from her demons and share her piece of mind
You knew what they had done to her but for some, they said “poor people do not fight cases in court”
As if calling her poor reduced the intense amount of justice that needed to be justified
You see the world does not favor people like her
Cause people like her are targeted knowing that there will be no justice for her.
Not only are they paralyzed sexually but it goes deeper than that mentally and emotionally
This was a curse that escalated into destiny
That people like her were to never make it past through that door
So now she doesn’t know how to stay alive
It seems like everyday a piece of her dies when she meets the villains and they tell her
“Well you shouldn’t have gone to his place ” as if her being in his house in a sexy tight dress gave him a ticket to claim her sexual property through that door as she waved goodbye to her sacred future …. Through that door it had all started off as just a turn up but ended off as the loss of her dignity and the start of her misery .
photo by amatos
written by tiara dewintha
warm thanks to the people of surface noise located at textile center 200 jalan sultan #04-16 singapore