submitted by Sahag Gureghian, Los Angeles, CA
When I was little, I wanted to be Cinderella, smiling every time my tiny fingers skimmed over the yellowed pages of my favorite book. It was torn and aging but I kept it under my pillow and felt safe knowing it was there. My mother would come into my bedroom every night and read it to me before bed. As her calming voice acted out the story I knew so well, the enchantment of overcoming struggle lingered inside my ignorant brain since I didn’t know any better.
When I got older, my mother stopped her nightly visits and started drinking. My father gambled our money away and instead, he was the one who snuck into my bedroom while my mother passed out on the couch. Every night, just as I was about to drift to sleep, he would approach and kiss me roughly on the mouth. I would try to pull away, but he’d grab my arm and kiss me harder. As I’d struggle to break free, I wondered when my fairy Godmother would come and rescue me.
“Be a good girl and give daddy what he wants,” he’d say and I remember wishing he wasn’t my daddy. Read more »
submitted by Kimberly Yarbrough Carpenter, Monroe, LA
Wake up little one
If you don’t come
Then I’ll take the baby.
Be quiet, lie still
Papa has work for you
The nighttime is when I pick
The freshest of fruit
Busted cherries bleed red
Stains the teeth
Stains the sheets
Block the ringing pain
It’s Thanksgiving again
The turkey’s huge
Dessert is you.
submitted by Venisia Gonzalez-Fiorino
Screaming was always around me
Tears running down my face
Trying to silence his voice, her voice with my hands
Good touch, bad touch
Too young was I really to know
All the poking hurt
My body in so much pain
“Hurt me, not my brother”
Hating bath time
Terrified of bedtime
Liquor, the smell of his breath
I tried to imagine I was dreaming
It wasn’t me but another 6yr. old girl
That’s what I’d try to think
Trying to hide from the teacher’s looks
I always wanted my Daddy to come and take me away
My mother left my brother and me here
Here in this cold place
They were strangers, cruel people
Their oldest daughter never liked it when it was my bed he came to
She made me pay but I didn’t understand why
I was a baby
My mother didn’t want to know
Did she know?
Why were we left here?
When we lived with our mother in New Jersey
All she did was yell, scream and curse
I was like my Daddy
I wasn’t a normal child in junior high
So she hated me
I didn’t care
I hated her
It was because of her
Her doing
That I was violated, beaten
She didn’t care
“I should’ve had an abortion”
“You’ll never make it in life”
This is what she’d always say to me
I wished my brother and I would’ve been with our Daddy
I wished we were with someone safe who loved us the right way
We would have been safe
She’d yell at everyone
For any reason
She’d beat on you something fierce
Hating that I only wanted my Daddy
I begged him to take us away
“Please Daddy! We don’t want to go back. Please Daddy!”
She had her ways
Cleaning had to be done her way and that was that
Laundry, garbage, ironing, hanging clothes on the hangers,
The way things were folded and put away, the vacuuming,
Making dinner, dishes….
If I didn’t do it right “her way”
I’d get hit with whatever was within her grasp
A wiffleball bat, a hot iron on my right thigh, a phone thrown in my face
“Slut, slut, slut”
That was her nickname for me (even though I was a “virgin”)
I’d never be anything, a loser
I’d never get my H.S. diploma
She kicked me out right before senior year finals
My ex-boyfriend Don’s Mom welcomed me into her home
She took me in, no questions asked
Disgusted with what my “Mother” had done to my face for the VERY LAST TIME
Yet this time, I fought back, I defended myself
Don’s Mother didn’t want all my hard work over the past 4 years to count for nothing
My Daddy sending her money to help with my expenses
Due to her and Don
I had the opportunity to take my final exams
Driving me to school every day
On graduation day
I got ready with my new “Mother”
A gift from my Daddy and her, a new outfit to look my best
Cap and gown, services ending with diplomas
Then here comes “this woman”
Saying, “I knew you could do it!”
To my curiosity, I turned and asked, “Why?”
“My baby is going to a good college because I pushed her to succeed.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
I almost vomited
I then told her that it was because of Don, his Mother,
My guidance counselor, my Daddy, and me
I succeeded because of me, for me
I never wanted to be her
A failure, a tyrant, unfaithful spouse
A person who’d feed on her young and others
An abuser
She was never worthy of the name ‘Mother’
She would never be my Mother
I would and could never be her.
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