Get comfortable with the discrepancies. Drink in the dissonance. Learn to love the freedom in the floundering. Don’t stop the story short.
I find it darkly ironic that the very terminology that symbolizes epic female persecution now might be used against a movement for women.
Still I spoke. As one by one my whānau, my family, turned away. The old story. I was supposed to drown. The truth was stained and shamed them.
I reached my threshold of silent witnessing. I could feel my voice open up. Instinctively came my roaring defender and protector, saying: Fuck you for not acting with integrity. Fuck you for not taking responsibility. Fuck you for hurting me. Fuck you for manipulating me. Fuck you for not being ...