The Stars and the Cookie Jar

No pity. No shame. No silence!

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I was five. I was six. I was seven years old. I was eight. I opened my mouth. I probably ruined some people's lives. I think I saved mine. I remember sitting in a courtroom on top of a telephone book, legs awkwardly spraddled because to move like a normal child still hurt. I remember recounting, in my queerly-accented English, what happened to me.

I remember them taking my father away, which should have made me feel safe; but that took many years.

And without my friends, I would not be standing.

I am standing. I will stand. I will speak, if I am called upon, though it breaks me apart every time.  Until it never happens to a little girl who loves her father, who trusts those entrusted with her care, ever again.