It’s really not that often I just post a link, mainly because it’s really not that often that something makes my heart sink slowly and swim in my stomach for a half hour or so. But this piece by Lidia Yuknavitch, is one such thing.
‘When my father raised his hand to me in our garage at eighteen, I said, “Do it.”
‘When the poet punched me in the nose in my pick-up truck at a stop light, I said, “Get the fuck out of my car or I will kill you.” And I meant it.
‘I’m telling you this because I know I’m not the only one who came of age like this. Up and through male violence. ‘I’m telling you because there are all the things that need to be done “out there” to stop it. But then there are also all the things that needed to be done in me. To stop it.
‘Listen, these are not the sad stories. Worse things happened to me. Those aren’t the sad stories either. These stories don’t carry the pathos to signify culturally in my culture. These stories I’m telling you are commonplace. That’s the point. They just happen and you live them and as you go you have to decide who you want to be.’
Read it. If you don’t marvel at the courage of the woman who can write this kind of truth, and want to invite her round for a cup of tea at the same time, I’ll be amazed.