If we are silent…
If we hide the bruises…
If we lie about the past…
If we hold their secrets for them…
Then we are honoring their violence. We are accepting their estimation of us as worth a buck-fifty plus tax. We are letting them write our stories. We are feeling their shame as our own.
And we are accomplices in allowing it to happen to us and to someone else.
Go. Read these brave stories. Visit every week. Because I for one am worth at least the price of a latte.
Wheels on the bus 