How I Discovered My Voice in a Paper Headdress

Voice of Survival of Traumatic Events


When I was a small child, and the world was brand new, there was so much potential for me. I did not know what hate was, what racism was, or what pain was. That quickly changed. I recall my first major beating at 3 or 4. It was Christmas and I had a magnificent doll house that Santa had brought me. I was sitting playing with it. Some Aunts, my father, my mother were all at the table eating. I recall repeating some bad words that my father had said when he was building the doll house earlier in the day. I recall being picked up and tossed across the room by my neck. I recall the red in his face, the vein popping at his temple, the gritted teeth, and the angry words. I recall being tossed down a flight of stairs at 5 for coloring with markers on…

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