**(Art work: We could not find the artist who did this incredible piece; but wanted to give credit for any who may know the origins of this powerful piece for crediting)**
👑👑 Thank you for returning to our page as we continue to unfold and grow together. It's our 50th blog plenary since we started...so crazy! Survivors of sexual assault or not, we honor you for your support as we heal together! The last couple of weeks, Cristal and myself expanded our experiences of rape culture and the affect of our survival stories have had on our relationships with our amazingly-supportative men, James and Mike (thank you Kings, we love you both!) ❤️🙏🏼 As you may or may not know, April is the "sexual assault awareness month" and while we know the experiences of sexual assault survivors surpass a month's time, we do think it's important we continuously shed light on the realities of so many who may have had a first hand experience. And to those individuals reading this who haven't been exposed to these realities; we encourage you to learn with us survivors who are trying to make efforts towards improving our cultures sentiments of sexual assault continue. That being said, we wanted to take this time to reflect on a piece inspired by the relationship rape has on our culture and its history; written by our very own: Devin Marie. (We will reconvene next week with a brand new series we can't wait to share with you all; stay tuned!) • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • A letter to Patriarchy: Inspired by My (Mother)land Appropriation; (verb). The act of taking something for one's own use; typically without the owner's permission. Similarly to that one bully who snatched my frosted animal crackers from my lunch box in the second grade In his defense, he was just hungry and what I had looked good. The story books taught us it's okay to borrow when you like what you see; Glorified a man who made a living taking lands across seas, Christening them with beliefs they weren't ready to receive Columbus probably just made a pit stop, scoped the place out and thought you know, it looked good, "this is mine, no doubt" But I can't help but wonder how many I.O.U's had to be written to justify the taking of our Mother... Oh sweet mother; You birthed resources, and tribes, but like first baby cries Life was forever changed; They saw what looked good and made it their own. Claimed ownership of lands converted into property to build up stores and didn't bother to ask the roots they pulled whether they'd miss the gardens my ancestors watered in order for them to grow You cut us off; from each other like slave families working without commission but for the profit of White America's vision. (Displaced identities constantly roaming for its origins within the confines of white-privileged-cultural norms) No wonder to this day me & my mother still can't walk freely without being called "ma", "mama" or "baby" from street corners Our identity as a culture has been stolen from a notion that "what Looks good; like can be owned" with or without consent But--- I'm tired of blaming Columbus, I'm tired of blaming white people and every hyper-masculine body sitting on his high-horse-on wall-street protected by the men in blue we've renamed pigs, who can't fly, but break oaths like broken promises on swing sets swung by school kids on the block; who can't find a decent school within their district because these lands aren't theirs,remember ? Please excuse these run-on sentences as I'm trying to find a period in time when "female"wasn't a threat but an asset that didn't involve just her assests as sole means of her worth. You made it okay for them to touch the lands my mother taught me as a young girl were private. The hidden place you've given culture excuses to exploit-- And if you don't believe me just flip through channels, or scroll through feeds where we still sell and wear chains in the magazines instead of black markets that further prove products are only deemed profitable when a naked body is involved. My mother taught me "...money don't make the woman" while you taught me "a woman's influence can make or break a dollar." You've said; "at LEAST women can work now; and an added bonus; choose so don't blame the vixens, strippers and sex industry workers who on average are making more than the 20% wage gap you still complain about for every dollar I make." But it's not the equal paycheck that frightens you most, or even admitting our four fathers were only made possible by the land of my mother.... But that the fragility within the hyper-masculine guise for centuries is at the mercy of a female. And perhaps why my mother also taught me: The reason why the bully picks on the smaller kid on the playground and steals her lunchbox treats, or the reason why Columbus thought it was okay to occupy land that wasn't his own and call it "his", or the reason during times of what you deem as a "man's- war" claims more women and children as victims of sexual assault or why women in college are more likely to be raped during her first two years of pursuing higher education is because the story books only taught from (HIS)tory.... They made it evident that you only oppress that which you fear might be stronger than you...including the realities of HERstory. So, to the mothers still teaching about their true origins, and the fathers that agree. To the truth still spoken about our blatant sexist history, to the culture we wish to expose and end, to the culture we wish to recreate, and mend; my mother speaks from wells of forgiveness she once emptied tears in...were ready to baptize our lands back to when freedom began; in our wombs room enough for both woman & man. ❤️
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