By C. Imani Williams
April offers an end to winter and is a time for fresh starts and new love. April is also Sexual Violence Awareness Month, and once again, I find myself "coming out."
This is one column I could never really prepare to write. I speak on it but only go so deep. Was I going to talk about how sexual violence against women must be eradicated? Of course. Was I going to give stats and updates of recent abuse stories that have plagued same-gender-loving communities? Absolutely. Was I going to come out about my own history of sexual abuse? Nope. Not yet.
For reasons I still can't fully explain, I have to. God is too good for me not to speak out. I have pledged to right the wrongs by writing truth, so here goes…
I was introduced to Sapphire last June by my graduate writing program mentor Dodie Bellamy, a very kick-ass, liberal, white feminist. While working on the manuscript for my book, "Keeping the Diva Power: A Guide to Self Esteem for Young African American Women," spirit spoke quite clearly saying, "You're going to write a memoir, put 'Diva Power' down for now." I was not interested in going there. I've written poems but a memoir, no thanks. Well, God is God and He will have his way.
In October I watched "Descent," an indie film starring Rosario Dawson as a fierce rape survivor who descends into a really funky place, and later avenges her rapist. That viewing took an entire week to finish as I was simultaneously reading "Push." During this time, I was working on a paper that I titled, "Black Women and Sexual Violence." When "Precious" came out my (bootleg copy, bad, I know), it stayed in my purse for three weeks before I could watch it.
Book after book, article after article, along with films depicting my ancestors, our sisters brutally abused, raped and beaten from slavery through today, became my diet. The abusers were men – white, black and every hue in between – and even mistresses and white children got their licks in, too, under the law. Black women and girls were not safe anywhere or at any time – and still aren't.
I made it through the short paper and began preparing the large Critical Paper (like a thesis, but the MFA world calls it a CP).
My current mentor Sharman Russell has been amazing as I have abandoned every deadline possible. She is encouraging yet firm, and has been sent by spirit along with my tutor Julie Braun and we're planning and plotting a victory as they help me organize my research into something that works for both the world of academia and for my voice.
The history, facts and sheer strength of black women as I paint our hurt, pain, triumphs and struggle in honor of all those who came before me is like being very pregnant and birthing our truth with very long labor. Our healing circle is overdue. The destruction of spirit I was reading about was just on these shores and didn't even broach treatment in Africa and, across the diaspora.
I broke down. They call it a breakthrough when you go so deep in your therapy or creative work that you hit a place where memories are triggered. Triggers took me back to my childhood sexual abuse. It was too much – or so I thought at the time. I couldn't write for three and a half weeks. I couldn't look at the critical paper, the memoir or anything. I literally pulled myself out of the fetal position and did a Web search for incest support groups.
Will all of my self-help and growth work over the years I had never dealt with the root issue of my dysfunction: incest.
I located the Incest Survivors Anonymous Long Beach, Calif chapter. I attended that very night and the next four weeks. I "came out" during the fourth meeting – very late for me. I didn't feel comfortable before then. I received a call following my fifth meeting, mid week at 9:30 p.m. The 82-year old founder, a white woman and one of the board members were calling on a three-way call to say that I was, "Not welcome at the meetings and not to show up on Sunday." We bantered back and forth and they finally said I didn't meet the requirements. The "requirements" are that you be a survivor.
The founder went on to say that I know what I do and I know what I did and that I have bigger problems than they could help me with. Devastated and open from sharing the depths of my soul, I asked why and what had I done? They said they were hanging up and they did.
I could have died, literally. Had it been 10 years ago when I was just coming out and losing my girls I would not be writing. A woman and I had befriended one another in the group and talked daily as we have a lot of the same issues. They called her and told her I wasn't welcome and would not be back. We were the most outspoken in the group. Who knows what they imagined. But she pressed for the reason. Seems the founder is homophobic and felt she needed to protect the Incest Survivor group from me.
I was the only black woman to grace a meeting in the six months that she had been attending. Once again, a black, gay person is shut out. In California. Seriously.
So I'm "out" before my book is written. But that's OK. God is all in the mix. I was in that group for a reason. Is it legal? I don't know. My main concern is that others have been turned away quietly over the last 30 years under the group leadership in a hateful way and without resources.If you're outraged please call them out at http://www.lafn.org/medical/isa.
My sexual violence awareness message is that too many of us are hurting around the shame and silence of incest, rape and sexual abuse. Even with survivors there's a pecking order.
I've lost two friends to suicide and vowed after their senseless and premature deaths to always be available to listen in confidence. I have had a number of friends from my journey to share that I'm not alone. Too many of them are also survivors.
We have to have the real talk around sexual abuse and violence in order to heal. Reach out speak up when and if you can. It's freeing, there is light on the other side of darkness and it is wonderful. I promise. This has been life changing. I stand stronger today and grounded in my purpose and mission.
I lost eight weeks of my creativity but I regained myself in the process after years of not understanding a large part of who I am. Sexual violence touches people of all ages, genders, backgrounds, races and classes. I'm lifting my voice for what is what's right and just.
