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*Trigger Warning: Assault, abuse, and self-harm mentioned.*

Before all else, you need to know this first...

To better understand my story, you need to look through both lenses of lived and generational trauma. It is a story of assault and abuse within the spectrum of human relationships.


I experienced CSA early in life. I have learned my “no” does not carry the same weight as othersʻ. Very seldom am I given autonomy over my body. 


You must understand the weight of prejudice and racism. The world I lived in growing up did not offer understanding of differences. The slightest deviation was license to attack. 


Bullying was, and is, a constant. 


I carried the weight of an un-accommodated disability, suppressing my needs so painfully that a slice on my skin felt like relief. 


As a teen, a car accident left me with a brain injury that went undiagnosed for a decade, while my symptoms were misdiagnosed. 


The treatments for the misdiagnoses did more harm than good.

I was told to continue treatment or “[my] family would stop loving [me], kick [me] out, and [I] would die alone on the street or in a 'psych ward.'”


You need both hands to count how many times I tried to go Home in my life. 


Only when you understand the combined weight 

of all of the details,

of all of the above, 

can you understand Me. 


My story,

My work,

My requests for respect. 



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