Last day of the month!
This month has gone by fast. 🤯 I hope you felt supported with our stories and resources this month. 🖤 Before I begin, this is your one and only TRIGGER WARNING, as this blog dives into trauma and SA.
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Recently, a local clothing designer asked me if I’d be willing to model her new clothing line. I jumped at the opportunity; she is very talented, and I purchased one of her designs at a fashion show I modeled in a few months ago.
When she asked:
“How do you feel about overalls?”
My heart sank.
I haven’t worn overalls since I was a kid, and it’s the one piece of clothing I adamantly avoid.
“Is that okay? I also have jackets available.”
I snapped back to reality, and I said it would be fine because I love her designs and want to step out of my comfort zone. I never thought my dislike of overalls would ever come up. Growing up in Oklahoma in the 80s, it was a fashion choice most kids wore. During elementary school, it saved me from getting sexually assaulted. I only had one pair, so I could only wear them once a week, but if it was a very bad week, I’d just pretend I hadn’t already worn them.
The school I attended always seemed to be against me. I’m sure it had to do with me being biracial, as I overheard whispers from teachers and put together the reasoning. I just wanted to do everything possible to get out of that school as soon as possible. Graduating from that place was the happiest day of my life because I felt the weight of pressures and my previous SA in the rearview. I had very few friends, and every day was just a reminder that I didn’t fit there.
For a while, I thought school was about never fitting in, but then I went to middle school, and BAM 💣…..my experience in school became exponentially better.
Wait…
Am I not supposed to get bullied?
And hear my name as an insult from the faculty?
I’m not supposed to fight off boys who won’t take no?
Hmm, ok, maybe I can like school.
You might be thinking…
“Well, you were in elementary school; why didn’t you tell a teacher or a parent?”
I tried telling a teacher. But each time I attempted, it was like my assailant knew and was next to me. My mom had been to the school for other issues, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I was seven, and this wasn’t long after I lost my best friend to a tragic death. I didn’t want more tragedy; I just wanted to pretend everything was normal. This happened for a year, and the assailant had to be held back because of grades. I did not feel bad about silently rejoicing that he wouldn’t be following me to the next grade.
I always felt unsafe when he was in that school, and I stopped wearing skirts and shorts because I knew that was when he took advantage of me the most. As I write this, I realize this is why I am standoffish about physical touch in relationships. It’s a narrative I was unable to control; it’s been a sense of control over my whole life, and I’d rather hold the cards.
If I could talk to my 7-year-old self, I would say, “Do not be afraid to speak up. Ever.”
This is the first time I have spoken this trauma into reality. At the time this happened, I was a scared girl who assumed that by staying silent, I was protecting myself and my parents from being inconvenienced.
I am sharing this story in the hopes that it will show other little girls, women, and sisters that staying silent helps no one.
Using your voice is your greatest superpower.
Remember, you can always call your sister. 🖤
