While I continue to be appalled at the anti-intellectualism and persistent nativity of some — I am equally encouraged by the growing populous of the woke. The gnawers and the nibblers are winning even as the cancerous and carniverous roar louder.
Beautiful and buoyant is hope.
Many of you have come to know me as me. I like this a lot. Like you — I wish to be known for who I am — not by whom I have been eaten by.
I”m a Canadian East Coast girl who was drug up and then drug around by a cast of cancerous offenders. Many of you have watched me dig around in the “bloodied dust” to find the fragments and try to fashion a protected path — predator free.
It has been so difficult be and become after brutality. The journey has been perilous and painful. Two steps forward — so often three back. Eventually, I held my ground, and occasionally I gained some.
This girls got grit. You do too. Lots of girls and guys do.
Even as I watch abusers fade into antiquity — I am watching survivors growing steadily stronger. Like the land after loss — the air is clearing; the fog of fear is fading; the knowing deeper; the speaking stronger — the assurance surer still.
In my own marrow — malfeasance is losing its malignant hold.
I am not really sure what it takes for offenders to recover. Perhaps recovery requires regular exposure to the radiation of truth — the chemotherapy of confession? I do not know and I could not rightly say. I will leave that in the skilled hands of the Offender Oncologist — the specialist in dividing bone from malfeasant marrow.
As for survivors, as healthy cells take over, the malfeasant malignancy of shame and secrecy shrinks and new glorious cells of truth multiply.
For the moment I am content with the slow but sure resurgence of new life, strength, and fecundity. Falsehood must deplete for truth to thrive — individually and systemically.