RISQUE REVUE

The Risque Review proudly presents: WRITING WITH COURAGE Award

TO:

MagnoliaButlerMSLady

I Wish I Could Dig Them Out  (18+) Thoughts of an abuse victim- who fought to be a survivor #2086851 by MagnoliaButlerMSLady

A tough read, and an even tougher review. But not at all because the reading is not powerful, or that it doesn't provoke in-depth response. This gem uncovers a topic that far too many people out there struggle every day to find a way to talk about, let alone, write it out.

The author begins the writing with a heavy heart, but she begins. And within the first paragraph captures my profound respect by declaring herself not so much a victim, as a survivor, a fighter.
Because the victim part belongs to the past. The fighter reclaims the rest of a life yet to live.

Something so intensely personal and private cannot be altered by platitudes or therapeutic language. The healing requires a language infinitely more personal and intimate than that - language that comes from within, not from without. This reviewer is hardly an expert on anything, let alone this issue, but still the gut instincts are alive and well enough to glimpse the difference between the probable and the possible. The fight for the freedom of oneself, to be. And to be more, far more than the sum total of one's worst experience in life.

There is no metaphor expressed here of a child's natural fear of the dark. Not when the bogeyman is real. And when the predatory focus knows that many years can go by before dark secrets are revealed. This is the very thing that not only takes advantage of innocence, but that steals it forever. No-one ever gets that back.
We ponder, for a moment, what it was actually like to grow up and come of age, in a long, slow easy glide, a gentle soft landing...
Instead of a nose-dive crash. Right when you have no personal armor to shield yourself from the impact.

The story takes us, almost with an elegance, through these realizations, almost effortlessly. And with astonishing grace and clarity, asks for, but never demands, understanding. As if - we could all of us, every single one of us, be better humans for the effort. I agree.

The author explains, for instance, with no apparent anger or shame, or hate - how a community and a family can betray a child. Drop the ball. Not be there, focused. Not turn the very world upside down on her behalf, in order to first, stop the abuse, and second, give her back to herself. While she is still just that young.
I have seen this before in my own life, too many times. The sacrificial child. For all our pride in ourselves, and our social strengths, and bonds, and illuminations - we still remain helpless in the face of this thing, far too often.
Until comes a voice with the courage, not to condemn - but to tell the truth.

The story speaks for itself. I will not speak for it. But still, and only to draw attention to the very last paragraph of it, which I feel has a particular brilliance:

The courage, the intent, the will, the determination, the defiance, that great magnificent uplifting of the human spirit - to break the cycle. To get that done. To know and understand from deep inside, what you do, why you do it, why it is so damned important, what it means, what it stands for, and what benefits come from it. That going forward, that broken link in the chain means - how many generations going forward can know something different, better, in life, than this? Free to have a real childhood. Will those in the future know or understand the true value of the Gift they've been given? Perhaps, but even if they don't, the triumph stands tall, proud and true.

And is this really where the healing comes from? The honest answer to that question is, I believe, a very private one. We can hope that a very powerful sense of self-worth is one of its strongest consequences. After all, it is a thing fought for with the very essence of humanity. When everything is at stake.



And so I humbly ask permission to add this to that collection. And to allow it to shine there, for awhile, as a reminder.










Captain Midnight
Just let me laugh when it's funny
and when it's sad, let me cry