She was a strong woman too…

Every one has had their own fair share of abuse. Whether you where pushed out of the line because you were not strong enough or you were not let to go on a ride because you were not tall or big enough. Its all an abuse to me. I will define an abuse as not giving the chance to carry out ones right the way they had planned to. 
Rosa Parks was abused because she was not giving the chance to carry out her right by sitting the chair she paid for. Ann Hibbins was abused when her rights to accuse those carpenters were seen as ‘abrasive’. 
However, the intensity of the “abuse ” is actually determined by the abused. What do I mean? Rosa Parks would have just said “Yes please, here you can have the seat you deserve it more than I do”, things would have been better, however we would not know her as the black woman who sat, leting the white man stand. We would have not even being aware of her existence. She would have gone home feeling even worse because she had to stand because she was black. Ann Hibbins, likewise could have apologized to the carpenters and maybe she would not have been executed for witchcraft. But she would not have been able to forgive herself for apologizing outside her will. She definitely did not sue those carpenters to later apologize to them. The abuse would have been greater if these women had to do what they did not want to do.
This is the same case for peope who “claim” to be abused. I put claim in quotes because I believe they brought it upon themselves. You do not get abused if you do not ask for it.
Well one may see me as been biased or ignorant but I mean what I say. Rosa Parks said no to abuser, she insisted on siting down because she felt the need to. If you ever got abused for some reasons, think there was that moment when you actually enjoyed the abuse. Just for that moment you did not want it to stop.
I heard some one say during one of various fellowships for the abused that, “my husband would beat me till all I could see were the puffy purple skin in front of my eyes”. The word was “my husband” not the insane man across the street or the junkie around the corner. She married him so she was bound to his beating whether she liked it or not. One might try to justify her actions by saying how was she to know the husband was a brutal evil soul? How wasn’t she to know? She did not just see him on the road and get married to him. It took a while, she got to know him and what he was like when things got bleak and yet she chose to marry him nevertheless, maybe with the mindset that she could change him. Thats why there is an adage “you can never teach an old dog a new trick”. She could have opted out of that relationship before things got out of hand, but she preffered to stay.
It depends on you. Its your ability to say no to abuse that makes the difference. Its not what they say is to be done, its what you want to be done, how you want it to be done, the reason you want it to be done and everything in it. You dont put your hand in a grinding machine and expect it to be intact, a grinding machine has to do what it was made to do.

I Am A Woman Who Survived.

An inspirational experience to put you in the shoes of the survivor.

The Manifest-Station

Jen here. I have a broken foot as many of you know, so I am giving the site all my attention right now. I am over the moon with the posts these days! Pinching myself! Today’s essay is one I hope you will read and share and help me make viral. This is so well-written, so important. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who has known abuse- you are not alone. And you don’t need to stay. Janine Canty, you blew me away with this beautifully nuanced and heartbreaking piece.

Simplereminders.com Simplereminders.com

I Am A Woman Who Survived. By Janine Canty.

Every October I wear a purple ribbon.

It represents women who have lost their lives to senseless violence. It represents men and children who have lost their lives to senseless violence. It represents people who died too young, with most of their words still inside them. It represents the empty place at…

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The real kind of love. Chimamanda inspired.

Romantic love. Not friendship. Not the kind of safe, shallow love that the objective is both peole are comfortable. But the kind that twist you and wrings you out and makes you breath from the nostrils of your beloved. Its not the kind that knows color or race or religion. But the kind that fights against all odds that stands in the way. Not the kind that changes you, but the kind that improves who you already are. It makes you not want to sleep. And when asleep its prompts you of the presence of your beloved. Its the love that makes you want to pour out your inside. It makes you want to pray for your beloved. Its not just friendship. Its the real, deep, content, reassuring, romantic love