I think we owe each other a lot.
Like so much so much more.
A couple doors down a woman was murdered.
And to be frank, I don’t understand how the world hasn’t fallen off its axis? I can’t wrap my head around how that happens and the heavens don’t come crashing down. I don’t get it.
She was 24 years old.
He robbed her of her entire life, of her two babies, of her everything.
She was human. Bone, flesh, dreams and all. She was so so human.
How dare you?
“But they told her to leave.”
Do you realize men are violent, terrifyingly violent, cis het men especially? And this isn’t a generalization, but rather a political statement.
They casually wield predatory, pedophilic, narcissistic and violent behaviours. They don’t see you as human. You are property, a conquest, an object of desire they feel entitled too. From strangers to service workers and even those you have interpersonal relationships with, I doubt they see you as whole. And it’s so painfully evident too!
In layman’s terms, they prey on you. They know exactly how to manipulate you to their will. And watch how they react when that doesn’t go according to plan? Terrifying!
The extent of the different insidious types of harm & violence we’re subjected to is sinister.
It’s made out to be romantic or silly, but it eats at your spirit and makes you want to crawl out of your skin. What a curse it is to never feel safe!
To survive “the man’s world”, you have to understand it and attempt to protect yourself from it (key word being attempt). Knowing how to distinguish a glare from a glance, avoid seeming vulnerable and knowing the nearest exit becomes crucial.
The responsibility of staying alive
Of surviving said violence
Sadly and unfairly falls on to you and becomes your duty
It’s a burden that is seen as fully yours
*and if you’re “lucky” hopefully one that your community shares too!
To the best of your ability, you labour to keep each other safe
But what’s scary is that any sort of falling short could cost you your life
Forgetting to share your address with a friend
Taking the longer way home
Not checking over your shoulder
Sitting in your car a minute too long
Men know exactly how to wield the power the patriarchy affords them and they never run out of creative ways to weaponize it. When you also consider how class, race, age, sexual orientation and your gender expression factor in, it’s all the more eerie. These power imbalances can’t be taken lightly, because a bad brush with power, misogyny and ego pose a threat to your livelihood and your odds of making it home. And to make matters worse, if you look like me most folks don’t really care to see you make it home safely.
Moreover, when you consider everything that goes into this survival? It’s literally theft: your time, your money and your energy in exchange for some supposed sense of safety and security. The mental gymnastics, in addition to the extensive list of precautions you have to take to stay safe, to try to keep each other safe, are demanding and exhausting. Mind you without mention of what goes into recovery and healing in the aftermath if you even have access to either.
Men are violent and the patriarchy kills openly and comfortably.
You aren’t safe on your own block.
In your own home.
In your own bed.
In your own body.
Too often the harm they subject you to is insidious, smart and sly. However, when it’s the man harassing you on the bus or at the bar or following you home, if you run fast enough and slam the door behind you, you might just get “lucky”. But, when home isn’t safe? When home isn’t home? The lifeline is thin and the window is small.
When I ran, I had a few dollars, a duffel bag, a cellphone and a couple trustworthy numbers I could call. I had Aunty Patty’s couch. Nashlee’s bed. Andrea’s roof.
And if it wasn’t for the people that showed up for me, I think I’d be in a ditch or worse. There’s no way I would have made it far. Hence, I’m forever grateful for the people that helped me through that, held me through that.
I ran and I was called: naive, crazy, delusional, dramatic, sensitive and hungry for life.
Bets were placed on how soon I’d come crawling back, how soon until the world would swallow me whole and beat me to a pulp.
I got “lucky”, and I know that’s not the case for everybody, which is really very much painful to utter because it should never be a matter of luck.
We all deserve a home to come home to
A place where your needs are met
Four walls and a foundation of care and grace
A furnace that runs on a love ethic
A stovetop fuelled by compassion
Four walls and some love
Four walls and some warmth
I don’t think that’s asking for too much
But, when you look like us, there’s a lot that the outside world doesn’t afford you.
I’ve been longing & looking for peace, love, safety and stability for the entirety of my life,
often in the wrong places.
And how I wish none of us had to look that far
I wish there was no need for searching any further
No being told to toughen up or get smarter
No need to run faster
Because even if you sprint and don’t look back, that’s not the hardest part
It’s every night and lonely morning after
They don’t tell you that no one and nothing guarantees your survival
They don’t tell you how cold it is and how unmoved the world is by your sorrow
They don’t tell you how they treat the women who run
The women who swing back
The women who are “difficult” and make trouble
The women who don’t censor names
The women who draw blood
It took me years to get to the point of being almost alright.
It took me light years to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t my fault
It took journeys to the moon and back to even begin to crawl myself out of the hole my abuser dug out for me, let alone see my own light.
It took dirty fingernails and a lot of might.
It also took a lot of support, a lot of money, a lot of protection and a lot of people that were willing to stand between me and him!
Again, I got really damn “lucky”, but not a lot of us do.
We need safe spaces
We need dignified and affordable housing
We need care that cares
We need an actual social security net
We need folks to show up
We need access to healing
There are chapters of my life I don’t speak aloud often and many seasons I’ve yet to physically, emotionally and mentally recover from. Despite their burdens, I can’t imagine not making it to the other side, I can’t. I can’t think of those chapters ending there… Of someone taking that from you? Someone robbing you of the ability to see yourself through… What an unimaginable heart wrenching loss!
Suffering, struggle and hardships are not prerequisites to love, I promise.
I don’t care what your partner says, your parents, your friends, your biological
family, etc.
Love doesn’t hit
Doesn’t yell
Doesn’t manipulate
Doesn’t lie, control, demean
Doesn’t withhold (care, affection, resources…)
Doesn’t look like incessant fighting
Love isn’t abusive
And it’s not supposed to hurt
And if it’s not love then run
And I pray you have somewhere to run to! I pray you warmer, kinder and greener places to run to. Love to run to! A couch! An oasis! Any haven away from the things that call themselves love but are not.
“All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm’s way.”
- bell hooks
This planet, this city and this neighbourhood aren’t the warm places they ought to be.
When you look like us, they give you the worst of themselves and ask you do make do.
It’s a lot of waitlist and unresourceful resources
A lot of blank stares and “this is how the system works”
A lot of empty words and “there’s nothing we can do for you”
It’s just another day, and you’re just another unmeaningful number, and eventually another news story, increment of data or name gone in the dust...
Except, I’m telling you that the dust remembers
The air is thicker and hard to breathe
It rains more often and each droplet is cement heavy
The sky looks grey and the sun looks dull
We trip on the pavement around your door
Even the wind feels harsher
Every night and day that goes without you is a cruel reminder that we should’ve done better
I wish we could’ve carved out softer places for you
I wish we would’ve made grass grow for you
I wish we would’ve forced flowers to bud in the concrete and refused to take no for an answer
We should’ve made spring come for you
It mattered
You mattered
It wasn’t just another day
You’re not just another name
The sun, the dust, the wind, the water, the pebbles, the street sign and I
We remember, we grieve, and we know
We'll forever know you’re not here though you should be
These things aren’t supposed to happen.
We’re supposed to keep each other safe. We don’t turn a blind eye or wait for hard seasons to pass. You bend time. Take it up to nature. Argue with God. You plead for the rain to stop hell fire if that’s what it takes to keep each other safe.
We must.
This isn’t an individual failing, another singular tragedy or just another day in Hblock.
It’s a communal failing. A structural failing.
For that kind of violence to be able to permeate inside a home and take a life, there is a monumental defect in our society.
A catastrophic fault for which we are all to blame.
I’m grief-stricken.
For so many and all the reasons.
Because that could’ve been my family.
Because she was my neighbour.
Because she was human.
Because she deserved more.
Because now we trip alongside the sidewalk differently.
The sun, the dust, the wind, the water, the pebbles, the street sign and I
We know and will never forget, I promise
I am so sorry Marie Gabriel.
وَالضُّحَىٰ
وَاللَّيْلِ إِذَا سَجَىٰ
مَا وَدَّعَكَ رَبُّكَ وَمَا قَلَىٰ
وَلَلْآخِرَةُ خَيْرٌ لَكَ مِنَ الْأُولَىٰ
“I swear by the early hours of the day,
And the night when it covers with darkness.
Your Lord has not forsaken you, nor has He become displeased,
And surely what comes after is better for you than that which has gone before.”
Quran [93:1–4]
Many days Surat Ad-Duhaa has seen me through to the morning hours. Given me permission to wait for the sun. Gave me enough to stick it out when my legs wavered, and my arms faltered. Gave me enough to make it to the morning brightness. This dua has seen me through my darkest hours and I pray it provides light, relief and comfort on your transition.
I pray the next life is kinder to you.
And I pray this one is kinder to us all.
I pray you see morning.
I pray you meet love in the morning hours.
Warm, kind and green.
Rest in grace and in love
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