Let’s pretend this is fiction.You don’t know the person I’m talking about.
He’s not your colleague, brother, son, father, best friend.
I’m an unreliable narrator anyway, I’ve been told.
The evidence I presented was a pile of 80 pages worth of words and code
that went unread. I looked at that pile after this fictitious lawyer
set it aside and said out loud that he wasn’t going to read it,
said silently that it was because my children and I were not worth as much
as what his client was paying him.
I wish my story already had an ending and that it could be short,
but neither narrative element is possible right now.
The story is that I am the protagonist.
It’s that I’m a female writer of colour and mixed race.
That I’m a reluctant survivor.
That I am a storyteller because I want to make a difference,
But sometimes I am also scared and ashamed.
I tell stories more than I write them.
A spoken word doesn’t have to last as long as a written one,
Unless otherwise documented.
Spoken words are ephemera.
Lived experiences are ephemera.
Typed words, audible breaths on video, are forever.
Forever. Once you associate that word with your trauma,
It sucks the air out of you. You forget to breathe. Then you’re breathing too hard and choking on air.
My character has many holes and weaknesses including but not limited to: mental illness, dysfunctional family, substance issues, being an outspoken “you’re either with me or you can fuck off” type of gal (at least, back in the day), etc., but her biggest fault is that she hates lies and betrayals, after she defined what that meant to her. As much as she always wants to tell the truth, sometimes she is afraid to.
Because boys will be boys
Because Chinese men are like that
Because you look too old and he’s always around young girls so especially because of that, it’s not his fault
Because he has a penis.
We’ve heard these stories too often and when we try to tell them
We are not believed.
Remember, this is all fiction. This never happened to me.
Brandy Lien Worrall-Soriano 