This piece is about something that happened to me when I was just 14. The initial work and conception was to address a specific event, but the implications are broad and universal for most women. My experience was not the last and I oftentimes wonder if this early event may have set me up for the silence that would later keep me from speaking up about situations that would transpire in the future. In my family we were taught as children to keep quiet, and not to infringe on our parents’ events or opportunities. My experience happened at a family outing, an overnight we had at the family home of ‘important’ friends my parents were trying to impress. There was a boy, Walter, he was 19. He was handsome and engaging. I was enthralled but had literally no way to process the feelings I had, so I stayed cautious and remote. Stealing quick glances, I tried to process the unnatural to me, rush of emotions. There were probably seven or eight of us kids altogether, between both families, we were the oldest of both. In the evening as the kids all hung out in the den watching a movie, he made his move. It was dark and cold, I was lying on my stomach on the floor, next thing I knew he was too. Then soon he threw a blanket over me, it was cozy. But, too close… I don’t even know how the next part happened, but his hands, under the blanket, now under my cloths… Touching me, his leg thrown over me pinning me in place.

This piece is an unapologetic remembrance of that event and my overcoming it years later. No sugar. His emotional and psychological control was complete and devastating. It has taken decades for me to embrace this, and to get my power back. To use what was his power, to break the cycle and take back what is mine.

She is bright with fury, complicated and bold. She wins with her presence, and he is small, no longer in control, she takes his power and leaves him diminished, spilling his seed, rough edges and broken.