Flashbacks of the comforting burn of liquor on the back of my tongue; the taste invasive like blood in my mouth.
Memories envelop me
All I see is red
My body is trembling, vigorously shaking, as I recall the pressure of the cold barrel of a gun pressed into my temple at 12 years old
“Get in the tent.”
What? No.
“I said – get in the tent or I’ll blow your fucking brains out!”
The gun bruised my temple as he pushed me into his tent, followed by not 1, not 2 or 3
But 5 boys
“Rape her!!!!”
These words burned within me like a branding iron, the scars I would wear on my heart for the rest of my life
With every beat and every breath
Tainted
One boy for every limb, holding down my arms and legs with all their might
And the panic set in
My heart was racing, I couldn’t breathe
I can’t let this happen
The adrenaline surged through my tiny, 4 foot 10 frame
With my arms immobilized
They forced my shorts off
And I kicked with a goliath-like strength I didn’t know I had
I kicked one of them in the face, and one of them where it hurts
Hysteria set in and I somehow managed to free myself from their grip
I jumped through the partially opened tent door,
But not before one of them grabbed my Sacred place
and invaded me; forced his fingers inside of me
Unpure
I ran and I ran – I don’t remember ever stopping. Except I didn’t only run physically.
I swallowed my pain in the safety of the bottle.
The pills became my crutch, that I couldn’t walk without
The ball and chain I dragged beside me; My silent cry for help
The teardrops that stain my face today paint an accurate picture of the weight
my shoulders carried forever, so heavy they ached,
The condition of my dark and decayed heart, hardened by the poison of sexual abuse, embedded solely with hate
The faded black lines that run down my cheeks from the distorted illusion of perfection I flex
Mascara – or war paint?
Sometimes the thoughts set in.
I am being irrational… they were a year younger than me so it couldn’t have been that bad… I mean it’s not like they RAPED me right… Some women have had it so much worse… Maybe they were just playing… I mean, that is how the youth on the rez play… Whipping 8 balls at eachother, lighting lighters and spraying axe into them, aiming at their friends…
Drinking their parents leftover booze from the night before, shooting their dogs, throwing newborn puppies back and forth to eachother…
I recall my 7 year old cousin teasing a girl that lived not too far from him, throwing rocks at her window, yelling at her from outside her house
“At least I wasn’t raped by my dad!”
Yes, prior to having the intellectual capability to even read or write, the word “RAPE” is thrown around by children who, in communities unscathed by the haunting memory of residential schools, would still be watching Barney on T.V.
But instead, having sex is a ‘game’ that children play, alongside sticking knives to eachothers throats.
Disconnected
Depression became my only friend; when the drunken stupor wears off, misery sets in
I hate myself
Blinded by rage, nobody around me is safe
from the wrath within
Pounding my fists through walls brings me a sense of relief
Watching the blood leak reminds me of the tears my heart cannot cry
Too numb, too high
to express the pain inside
My nose stays cracked and raw
because when heaven subsides
A permanent layer of dirt contaminates me
I rub my skin till its red as ruby, but the dirt won’t go away no matter how hard I try
Steady chasing the call of the void
The only prayer I seek is pleading to die
The first time I sat in the womb of our Mother
Sweat lodge,
as they call her
The door closed, the medicines burned
And somehow, through my dry, cracked, nose
the healing scent of Bear Root fought it’s way in
The rattles started shaking and I curled into a ball
Shrieking
Agony in my chest, twisting and turning
I could do nothing but cry; shaking, vomiting from the sadness
I came face to face with him – the wolf of anger and rage, the one that kept the bottles in my face
Grotesque; rabid-looking, starving, ugliness in every crevice,
It held onto me; not wanting to leave
Drowning in the medicinal steam,
It laid in its insignificance and pleaded at my feet
“WHO ARE YOU WITHOUT ME!?!?!?”
Torn between two wolves; happiness and fury
The dark wolf on one side; on the other, the white wolf of ceremony
I tried to release the darkness but the wolf clenched it’s jaw tighter
My vision became distorted
and it morphed
Suddenly, I was looking at the face of 12 year old me
She looked into my eyes
and begged
“Please… I need you.. and you need me…”
My chest sank as my heart broke
I’m sorry.. No… I know you are hurting.. But it’s time to let you go…
I closed my eyes and the darkness inside me subsided
Letting go of the anger
Forgiveness was finally invited
The feeling of the warm bodies swaying beside me
As they rocked me like an infant
And I grieved the loss of everything I thought I was
I grieved the loss of the sexually abused child, who wanted nothing more than to be loved
And her death was the freedom I could let in, at last
My tears burned as hot as my body
Swaddled by the gentle voices of my brothers and sisters
And the beating of their drums as they prayed beside me, with me and for me
I released
After the sickness came out, liberty set in
I was finally free
From the beast that I caged for so long within
I emerged from her womb a new being
Mother Earth gave me the love I never received
She taught me how to accept myself
I looked down at the scars which filled my body that I once loathed;
And I was entranced by their beauty
Pure bliss engulfed me; enamored by the glorious stories that filled my physique, that told the many struggles, abuses, sacrifices, pain and now joy, that made me into who I am today
Finding nirvana in the fact that I was alive – I WAS STILL ALIVE!!!
Through abuse, addictions, abandonment, and failed suicide attempts
Creator saved me everytime
I was NEVER alone
Weeping on the inside, a living, breathing statistic
My Ancestors carried me to the Light and through them
I found my Elysium, Heaven on Earth
and my Spirit became impenetrable with the love that I found
with my Ancestors DNA in my blood, I was birthed from the sweatlodge a Warrior with a purpose
From that moment on,
I dedicated my life to helping the youth who are broken like I was
I became skaabe for my People; a helper, a voice, a healer
For our youth on reserves who are trapped in the cycles
of residential school trauma, violence, poverty
Surrounded by suicide, addictions and abuse
The generational memory dances through my body
A vessel of strength and radiance
With my ancestors behind me, to the children
I speak
The chaos around them stops, and for a minute they listen,
When I share with them my journey through Hell to Heaven I watch their eyes glisten
I teach
You are the love that you seek in this world
You are the fear that you find in this world
Every minute of every day, you have the power to destroy
And every second of every minute, you have the power to create
You are special
You are Sacred
You are everything you need and more
You have the power to control your destiny
And an immaculate heart like yours, can only be broken if you let it
Anger is like drinking poison
While wishing death upon your enemy
Forgiveness and love, is the only truth
A perfect creation from God himself; you could never be tainted
By the evilest of evils or the darkest of deeds
Within you, there will always be light, and infinite possibility
The abusers did not scathe you, my dear
Your Spirit is strong
Your Body is Pure
Divinity will always be yours
Even if you choose not to see it
Within you is the darkness you fear
And the Light that you fear
You deserve to be happy
You are Worthy of a good life
And if nobody has told you today,
You are loved.
Embrace it.
***MARY BLACK is the manager of BLOODLIINE ENTERTAINMENT. She and her partner, Blaine Constant, and her brother, Connor Boulanger – travel across Turtle Island promoting sobriety, healing from trauma such as domestic violence, sexual abuse, suicide, addictions workshops and more.
They do live community performances of spoken word, hip-hop music, fiddle performance, and Traditional dance.
They also offer an art-based therapy program through which they develop music with the youth, provide fiddle lessons and Traditional dance classes – and they promote healing from within the system through a “Living the Experience of C.F.S” Workshop for social workers and service providers.***
***Mary Black is proud to have been sober for 3 years and 3 months.***
For more information, please visit:
Www.BloodliineEntertainment.com
Or message Mary Black at:
MaryXBlackX@Gmail.com
