Really? Why?

untitledEverything happens for a reason. Does it? Well, that’s what they say. Some people say it because they don’t know what else to say while some say it because they actually believe it.  This kind of thinking is detrimental to our society. You can’t just brush things off with a meaningless statement such as this and somehow think this will explain it all away and everything will be fine because it’s part of the “plan.” Maybe some things do happen for a reason, maybe if certain things did not happen then other things would not have fallen into to place as they have. To say that everything happens for a reason is asinine and hurtful.

Get your head out of your ass and STOP SAYING THIS!

I get extremely upset when people say this to me. I was molested for 6 years. What is the reason for that?  Was it because I was stupid and made bad decisions as an infant? Some then say “you may never know” and I say bullshit! There was no reason for that to happen to me and it had nothing to do with anything I did to cause it. Then I get the famous lines, “God was there with you” or “God only gives the worst pain to his strongest warriors” and again I say bullshit! Please explain to me how that is supposed to comfort me. I guess you believe that the reason for the molestation is so I can live in torment for the rest of my life, is that what you’re saying?

What is the reason for 49 people to be gunned down in a nightclub, was it because of their bad decision to be gay?  You would probably tell the mothers of those men and women that their death will change laws or change attitudes but that is also bullshit.  Sick people will always be sick, criminals will always find a way and bigots continue to raise more bigots.

Last year I read Heaven is For Real by Colton, Sonja and Todd Burpo. I thought it was going to be a nice uplifting and spiritual experience but about halfway through I started sobbing.  I was so upset that God felt it was necessary to save this little boy while so many others just die or live in fear. What about me? I was just an innocent little girl!  What about the kids with cancer that never get a second chance and what about all those kids sold into sex slavery every day? What about the mother whose son died because of my son?  What about the children that are taken, tortured and killed?  What about the children that are starving to death and what about the children with special needs.  What are the reasons for all of them?  Was it something they did?  I can answer that, it turns out that boy and his parents lied and what’s worse is they think that’s ok because they say it gave people hope.  It didn’t give me hope, it just made me feel like I didn’t matter.

I can’t think of anything good that came of any tragedy I’ve suffered through and I feel like if you really believe the bullshit then the odds should be with me. They’re not.

Bottom line, stop saying this.



summer_storm.jpgFor many the first day of summer is a sign of fun, sun and long evenings enjoying life with family and friends.  When I was prompted to write something about summer today those weren’t the first things that came to mind and that pissed me off.  The first thing that came to my mind was the endless summers spent at home with my rapist.  I had to spend the whole day at home, I no longer had the respite of school to keep me out of his clutches.

Every day I would wake up and tip toe around to get ready to leave for the day, somewhere, anywhere but home.  I pleaded, please don’t let a floorboard squeak, don’t flush the toilet, just be very quiet while grabbing a snack.  Not a sound or I might wake the monster downstairs.  I had to pass the basement stairs to get out the back door and hurry to the shed for my bike.  I prayed he wouldn’t be coming up those stairs every single day.  I went to every neighborhood kids house hoping to find someone outside playing so I wouldn’t have to go back home.

I’m so mad that I had to think of that first, why can’t I enjoy anything in life.  Everything is tainted and I can’t escape the thoughts that run through my head.  I want to be but it’s impossible.  I’m losing myself every day, I can’t say or do anything without thinking of the past and I want so badly to forget.  I want to move on and get over it but that is a ridiculous notion.  It’s not going to happen.  I will never have any justice and I will always be fighting this on my own.



Weakened by TERROR

2855_fight_against_terrorism.jpgToday in America we react to the terrorism in Orlando.  Today we give the terrorists exactly what they have been working towards, our terror.  Our terror has caused arguments among our fellow Americans, our neighbors and even our family and friends.  Some say it was a hate crime while some say it was terrorism. Terrorism is but a hate crime at its root, is it not?  Some have taken this opportunity to slam others with politics and some have actually used this tragedy to further their agenda on gun control or immigration.

Some say this monster was not a terrorist, he was an American.  Terrorism is an equal opportunity employer.  Terrorists come in all races, genders, religions and sexual orientations.  Terrorists are everywhere and they are called that because they feed on TERROR and HATE.  We are weakened by terror when we react in this way.  The goal of every terrorist is to make us fight amongst ourselves, to make us fear the freedom so many have given their lives for and to hate those different from us.

When we give in to the terror we lose our freedom, when we hate people based on race, gender, religion or sexual orientation we lose our freedom.  The men that fought for this country during it’s infancy did so in order for us to live without fear of persecution.  We have to stand together in love for our fellow-man in order for us to defeat terrorism.  They are winning because we have lost sight of what America stands for.  People stomp on our flag because they no longer believe in it.  If we forget what this country was founded on then we give them all the power.  We grow weaker and weaker with each attack and our hate makes them stronger.  It’s time to focus on the real enemy.

Have we all given up on the pledge we all swore to?

I Pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the   Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and JUSTICE FOR ALL.

It’s not enough to say the words, you have to live up to them. We should be standing up together for America and innocent people around the world.  #OneWorldAgainstTerror  #UniteAgainstTerrorism

Check this out this blogger!

Your Honor, (There Is No Honor in your Sentence), You Just Minimalized Rape.


rapeWhat is happening!? What are we teaching our children? Outrage cannot equally represent my sentiments at this time.

I don’t care if one million people write about this story, and I happen to be a small voice among them.

I don’t care if you think I am jumping on a bandwagon of trending rage.

I don’t care if your Facebook feed becomes inundated with similar posts.

And I certainly don’t care if you are tired of hearing Brock Allen Turner’s name.


What I do care about, is my children having to witness this horrifying injustice unfold before their eyes. As well as the repulsive memories flooding my brain as I relate to the victim.

Not only was she a victim of rape. Now she’s a victim of the bullshit, we call a Justice System.

I am appalled, sick to my stomach. Something terrifying is happening, and this most certainly is the time we need to speak up. If not for the victim, for a society ignorant to #RapeCulture. Our silence is as sickening as the act of rape itself.

I’m tired of screaming; my voice is hoarse, dammit people it is time to open up the conversation.

No more shame. No more hiding.

Brock Allen Turner raped a young woman and received a six-month sentence. His victim has to live with what rape has done to her for the rest of her life.

As a survivor of rape, I can tell you with unabashed certainty, she will never be the same.

The internet is crawling with anger; women, men, myself, we are angry. WE SHOULD BE. We should be so angry that our blood boils. We can’t stand by and let one more victim feel ashamed, especially while the Justice System fails them.

And hopefully, as each of us speak up, we can bring the ONLY good to come of this horrific injustice.


The victim’s impact statement, which explicitly and unequivocally expresses her pain, is one that will resonate with me for a long time. Not only was it difficult to read the pain she endured, but also brought up some painful personal memories.

I know all too well what it feels like to charge someone with a sex crime and not have justice served.

The victim is not only left to deal with the morbid reality she was raped.

There is an entirely different trauma she will endure now that she has lost faith in the justice system. A six-month sentence minimalizes the pain of her rape. It’s disgusting.

My journey to seek justice against a man who admittedly (the operative word being ADMITTEDLY) molested me from the ages of three to six came late in life. In Canada, there is no statute of limitations on sexual assault. It wasn’t until this man revealed what he had done to me twenty years later, did I find the strength to charge him.

There is nothing simple when charging someone with sexual assault. I appreciate the process must be intricate, as it is a serious charge.

In my experience, it left me sickened, heartbroken and suspicious. I trust nothing about the Justice System.

As I walked into the police station …

Not only was I treated as the guilty party while sitting in a cold steel chair in a tiny grey room, but was also reminded on many occasions the impact I would have on my assailant’s life. So often, in fact, I had no choice but to feel a little guilty wherein telling my truths. On one occasion having an officer remark, “It was so long ago, are you sure this is in the best interest of the community?” I remember wondering to myself if it was, was I just being a baby, not getting over something that happened so many years ago? At that moment, I reminded myself of why I was there. Not for me, but for anyone else this man may come in contact with, that he may indeed damage as he had done me.

I spent over four hours in that room. Hearing words like – digital penetration, forced fellatio, insertion, oral rape, sodomy, oral copulation – words that felt as traumatic as reliving my story. I recognised the need for the technical terminology. Nonetheless, those words have remained with me since that day. Sadly those clinical, cold hard words tasted as if they became my story.

Nevertheless, I did it; I was proud of myself for walking into the police station and giving my statement. Pleased I took a step towards justice.

Fuck Justice.

In any sexual assault case, there is (and there should be), several months of investigation. In my case almost one year was spent investigating my allegations (despite the declaration of my assailant, admitting to myself and others, he had molested me).

It was just as the sting of coming forward had almost subsided when I received a phone call from the police officers dealing with my case.

A day in which the scales of justice shattered and demolished the heart of a little girl. Me.

The officer went on to explain they had gathered enough evidence and sent my case to Crown Counsel (Canadian for Prosecutor). Crown Counsel believed we had more than sufficient evidence to win in court. But when my case was brought before a Judge, to ask for a court date, the Judge threw it out. Exclaiming, there was no need to prosecute a man who is over fifty years old, for a crime, he is sure, has plagued him for many years. As well as stating, this poor man (what about me) has spent over twenty-five years in a wheelchair which should be punishment enough. FYI – my molester was in a wheelchair the entire time he molested me

Unfortunately, I learned a harsh lesson that day. One that has forever plagued my belief in the Justice System. It doesn’t matter if the prosecutor believes you, it doesn’t matter if a man tells an entire room he raped you, it matters what the Judge deems worthy of prosecution.


Well Sirs/Madams, Honorary up keepers of the law. I don’t believe you deserve your title anymore. “Your Honour” leaves me with a sour taste in my mouth. There is no Honour in what you’ve done. Not for me and certainly not for Brock Allen Turner’s victim. The political bias in which you base your judgments does nothing for the nightmares in which I am tormented. No, your decisions cannot and will never take away the terror of my sexual assault, but the injury you’ve caused by minimalizing rape is disturbing. You, Sirs/Madams, are permanently wounding other victims from coming forward. Shame on you.

Although I cannot stand in the victim’s shoes or claim to feel her pain. I can speak with my honesty and through my experiences. My heart aches for this woman; I have spent the day in tears, imagining how her heart must have felt when hearing the Judge give his sentence. I remember all too well the way my heart sank when my case was thrown out.

I worry for the moment after the publicity dies down and the reality of her post-traumatic stress envelops her.

I fear for my children who were just taught a Rape Sentence can last less time than a pregnancy.

I despair another serious violation story will go unnoticed out of fear of coming forward.

I grieve for every victim that has had their rape or sexual assault minimised by ignorance.

We can’t take away the nightmare, but we can share our survival stories and show the world we will no longer sit silently. Our voices will be justice.

We will be warriors.



I’ve changed. I’m no longer a victim. I have always been inside the chrysalis growing and transforming into a beautiful and powerful survivor. I’ve been set free from the prison within my soul, I have a voice.

Never again will I allow others to dictate my life or my words. I am strong and fierce and I will not back down. I will be a force to reckon with if you stand in my way or shut me down. I am the epitome of the truth you shamelessly hid from the world.

My justice is found in your guilt and humiliation.  I no longer fear the threat of embarrassment but you should.  I hope you feel the wrath of judgment by your peers and the weight of my pain on your shoulders.  I hope you lay awake at night thinking at any moment the wrong person may discover your secret.  It’s your secret, no longer mine.  When you go to the store I hope you see others staring and worry they may know what you did.

Do you still think you got away with it?  Do you still live in your own sick world where nobody knows what you are?  Do you search the internet for ways to shut me up?

Let this truth be your prison, I am speaking up for myself and those that can’t.



What SHE should wear? Is NOT your job 🚫😏

Love this and think you will too!

A Girl That Blah

Disclaimer- The content below might be sensitive and raging. It has not been written to blame, condemn or to make fun of any celebrity or any perspective,belief or fashion. Readers are kindly allowed not to subjugate it to a serious issue.

She was wearing a spaghetti inside her blue-white striped top. It was not merely for fashion rather it was to cover the linings of her seam bra. It was not merely her choice but her scared mother asked her to wear that. Figuring out that why I termed her as scared? Then it is just because of the society.
S.O.C.I.E.T.Y? Wonderstrucked huh? Well not only in India but also in some fragmented parts of the world like if I name a few UAE, Asian countries and in some undiscovered parts of the world , women’s clothing has always been something to debate about.

Today, here, am not talking about…

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Open Letter Series: To His Mom

I’ve wanted to write you so many times but I never felt like it was appropriate. I think about you and your family every single day and pray that you are finding peace. I’m never sure if it would make things worse to reach out to you or if my silence is worse. I thought my life was starting to gain some positive momentum last year until that day.  I’ve been through quite a bit in my life, I’ve dealt with a lot of pain but I will tell you that this was by far the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. The pain of this loss outweighs any I’ve ever had to deal with so I can not imagine how you must be feeling,  I won’t pretend to compare what you are going through to what I’ve faced. I’m not going to try to convince anyone that what my son did was not wrong or that I’m blameless. I still don’t know why this happened and I can’t make it go away but I want you to know that I’m not oblivious to your pain.

The night that I got the call I was at an event, I was driving home alone, crying, breaking down. When I was almost home I started screaming at God and pounding on my steering wheel, I passed my street because I wasn’t finished, I just kept driving and screaming on the empty road.  I knew that up ahead there was a steep drop off on the highway and thought I would drive off in hopes of ending the pain but I drove past the drop off because I thought I might hurt someone else. I turned around and started begging God to give your son his life, I wanted him to take me instead.

I got home and everything bad that ever happened to me just came rushing in like a flash flood of thoughts. I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t speak and I was absolutely terrified for your son and for mine. I tried calling my psychiatrist for medicine but was rejected, I knew that was the first of many rejections that were to come in the wake of this tragedy. I don’t remember much of the next few days except that I did finally get some medicine from another doctor. Without thinking, I tried once again to end my life but thankfully I was unsuccessful. I know now that this would be the last time I ever tried to do that because I found out my son was on suicide watch. He was so ashamed and upset over what he had done and I could not add to that .

I was so scared that other people were going to attack our family for what happened and it was so hard to tell anyone. I know my son and I know his heart, this act is not him but if you don’t know him you can’t believe that. He did do this and it’s his fault but I began to doubt the facts because it didn’t make sense and I was sure something was missing or someone else had a hand in this. I wanted so badly to wake up from this nightmare and forget about this. I went to work every day and pretended everything was ok because I believed I would lose my job if they knew. I assumed that nobody would forgive me and I would lose all of my friends. I blamed myself, I wasn’t a great mother, I was not strong enough or supportive enough for my children. I thought that I had tried my best but I see now that I could have done better.

I was losing my mind everyday, I just wanted to run away from everything. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I was cursed and everyone I loved was in its destructive path.  I went to church and it was great but it made me feel worse sometimes. In my eyes it’s hard to see what others are going through because I’m so consumed by trauma and sadness. I could not be away from my husband because I was terrified, I began to feel the same knot in my chest that I used to get all the time. I just felt nauseous and light-headed and sometimes I felt like I could not breathe. I didn’t go anywhere for a while

I did not go visit my son in jail because I could not see him like that, I was too selfish about my own hurt that I could not be there for him when he needed me most. I wanted to help my son but it also felt wrong in some way. He made a terrible mistake that cost a man his life but I love him and I knew that it was an accident. I wanted to let him remain in jail until his trial and maybe that was wrong of me but I thought it would help him in the long run. The lawyer advised us to get him out so my son was released and I got to see him, it was bittersweet, when he came home I was happy to see him but consumed by guilt. I was holding my son and thinking of you, how can I enjoy this when you will never hold your son again because of us.

With therapy I slowly began to do things again and spent more time with my son.  I knew he would be serving time for what he did so I wanted to spend this time with him.  I wanted him to talk to me about what happened but he was not allowed to, all he ever said was that he just kept seeing it over and over and was haunted by what he had done.  I’m sure that you believe he deserved to feel this way and you’re right but it’s hard as a mother to see you child in so much pain.  My son was still breathing and doing what he could to get through this but I knew that his life would never be the same.  He would pay for this for the rest of his life no matter what.  Even if his sentence was light, he would never realize his dreams.  He was going to be discharged from the military and he will never be able to be in law enforcement again.  This will follow him forever both emotionally and professionally.

We tried to think of ways to help you but were restricted. We wanted to honor your son in some way but were not allowed.  A year has passed and I’m still feeling the guilt over what happened, I still think about you every time I try to enjoy life in some way. I’ve thought about you on every holiday, your son’s birthday, the anniversary and every other day this past year. Every time I have an opinion on something in the news I think of you first and try to put myself in your shoes. For instance, what right do I have to think  rapists and other criminals should have harsher sentencing when I prayed so hard for the judge to be lenient with my son? Is it ok for me to be mad at how my mother is protecting her son when I have been protecting mine?  Even small decisions are difficult because I feel guilty and I worry about the repercussions of all words and actions.

I only know how to tell you what I’m feeling which is why I’ll never send this letter. It’s not fair to lay my guilt at your feet for some kind of forgiveness. I wish you could scream and yell at me until you felt some kind of relief. I wish you could feel some peace and hope you find joy in life despite this tragedy. You were wronged and I want you to feel some sort of justice even though it’s at my expense. I will never stop grieving for your son.