Last Friday, I ran errands for my “Girlfriends Gone Nasty” dinner around DC. Suddenly it dawned on me….
I walked these streets.
When I was 20 and 21 years old. I walked these streets.
These were the streets I walked as a rape survivor in trauma.
These were the streets I walked carrying my rapist’s baby.
These were the streets I walked praying to a God that I thought was punishing me for not being a good person.
These were the streets I walked just trying to hold it together. A newlywed. A recent college graduate. My first “real” job. Raped on a Friday…first day of work on a Monday.
And here I was 23 years later. I hadn’t visited DC since I left. And here I was.
I walked those streets a rape survivor healed.
I walked those streets carrying a sign that said, “Power to the Pussy.”
I walked those street jubilant knowing that God isn’t in the sky judging me but is within me and walking with me.
I hosted a dinner for 35 women based on personal revolution.
And we walk together.