These hands are stuck in my head. Whose hands? I have felt them. I feel them. They are bigger than mine. Masculine. I know them. The callouses are smooth and the fingers long and straight until they clasp closed, entwined in mine. The tension pulls me. Or I’m pulling. Nothing moves but the stranger hands that hold my flesh together and pull me up by the ears and stroke my hair as I search blindly for a face, a body.
Originally posted here, copied in full below: http://sarahxcerta.wordpress.com/2014/10/05/from-the-mouth-of-a-survivor-an-open-letter-to-elizabeth-ellens-open-letter-to-the-internet-and-all-the-conversation-surrounding/
Let me start this conversation by saying that it’s the…
bringin myself back
—Your friend’s name is Stephen Tully Dierks, right?
—Because on Gawker he’s being accused of raping a young female writer.
This morning my husband woke me up with a piece of news that’s been terrible for our community. News that made my heart beat so fast, first out of confusion,…
About a month ago, Sophia Katz told me she was raped by a former friend and roommate of mine when she visited New York this past May. Yesterday, she published a piece chronicling the sexual abuse she experienced that week, using a pseudonym for her rapist. I shared the piece on multiple…