My Late Introduction

***Note: Trigger Warning***

I created this blog because I am an ordinary girl whose life has been literally torn to pieces like many other women due to sexism.

Before I was even born, my mom was in a domestic violent relationship with my dad. And even after I was born he continued to abuse her.

I have been recently diagnosed with Hypermobility Syndrome. It is a syndrome where the fetus's tissues do not develop enough causing increased flexibility and so causing pain throughout the body and in extreme cases: death. And last night my cousin asked me, "But how could you have developed wrong, your mom was healthy, right?"

I told her that she was, except my dad was abusing her still.

Automatically, she replied, "Oh that's why."

Now it may not be that my syndrome was caused by that at all. But how sad is it that it's even an option?

I remember so much.

I am now in my 20's, and I remember her bleeding on the cold cement floor outside in the dark, cold night. I remember furniture thrown everywhere, broken. I remember the shouting and the fear I often felt.

I remember not being able to sleep.

And one day he left.

And when I finally saw him again, he was my dad still. And my mom had to continue to acknowledge that she HAD to allow him visitation rights. Not only because of the court, because as children and now, my brothers and I unconditionally loved him.

I can't imagine how indignant she must have been.

Today, my dad and I no longer talk. It was until I lived with him that it finally hit me. Sexism is real. It always has been in my life and I refused to admit it.

I had been stalked, cat-called, harassed. And I don't know why that wasn't enough. One of my friends once stuck his crotch in my face as a "joke." I was horrified but all my guy friends laughed. Many of my guy "friends" would proceed to touch my breasts slyly as a "joke." 

I NEVER knew what to do.

It all happened so fast, I became confused because nobody ever stood up for me. 

I used to walk miles to go to and from school when a man followed me home one day. I was lucky my mom was home. I often wonder in fear what he planned to do with me. (Have you noticed how often the word fear has been used?)

And yet I still believed women were equal.

It took my dad to make me realize this. Now, how sad is THAT? Every day I heard how women did this or that, because it annoyed him so much. How only women screwed up, how only women were bad, how only women become ugly and wrinkled when they're old but not men. Don't worry, men always got it! My second oldest brother was able to call me BITCH or SLUT out loud so the neighbors could hear, when I did nothing to deserve it. What did my dad say when I complained to him? That I was the one arguing back! And when I would tell my friends, they wouldn't believe me. Now it was my turn to be indignant and depressed.

My dad verbally abused me every chance he could, because I was a "girl" and so I was weak.

He tore down my body image saying I was bulimic and anorexic because I was too skinny. But when I was 5 lbs more than that, I could "lose some weight" according to him.

There was no winning.

It was until he verbally assaulted and slapped me on the face, that I ran away.

One of my friends allowed me to stay with her a while. But I remember her telling me, that maybe we were just mad and things will sizzle down. Like the fact that he hurt me was just a mistake that I should brush away. He was just angry after all. (She knew he beat my mom when I was young btw.)

At the time I was taking a Women's Studies class, and luckily it was empowering for me after going through such a hard time. And that's when I knew I was a Feminist. That's when I knew there WAS something wrong. Because what was happening to me, was something that happens to a lot of girls and WORSE!

And if you could believe it, the story gets worse - but that's for another day.

1 in 3 women in the US will experience domestic abusive relationships. 1 in 3 women in the world will be raped. We women are half of the world. Aren't you worried that these issues have only been brushed off as marginal??


I am one woman, one example, one representation. There are many many stories like mine, not as bad as mine, and some much worse than mine.

I will continue my story later.