By Michael Mayes

I’m not the ‘enemy’ in the eyes of the police. I’m white, ‘middle class’. Hello white privilege. So, why have I always had a chip on my shoulder towards authority? I have never been arrested, and even got a couple ‘get out of jail free’ cards from cops back in the day. Yet my perception of authority has endured extreme polarization.

The author on his Outlaw dad’s knee, on their infamous trip to Florida to visit Grandpa Harry.

In a dream world, police would be perfectly trained, Freddy Gray incidents would not exist, and our cops would not be at war with certain citizens. I’m not a ‘criminal’, but I am the first male on my dad’s side in two generations (possibly three) to not be one.

My great grandpa was definitely a bootlegger at one point in his life, evidenced by him losing a scholarship to Cumberland College for bootlegging. Grandpa Harry did two years for robbing a savings & loan. My dad was in the Louisville Outlaws motorcycle gang; think motorcycles, guns and drugs. Dad told me recently that the trip to Florida to see grandpa Harry when I was three was actually because he was hiding from the cops.

I was born in 1981, but dad didn’t straighten his life out until about ’87, when I saw him on the news in a bright-orange jail suit. He got busted with a trunk full of guns coming back from Virginia. What really tops this all off is that my mom’s dad was a cop. He and I are not close; not because he was a cop, but because he wasn’t all that present in mom’s life.

Still, that’s a lot of recent ancestral baggage, which has called for some self-investigation while writing this piece. It gave me the advantage of seeing the issue from both sides. I know there are some bad cops, and generally I’ve used that knowledge to fuel my distaste for them over the years. However, I’m not an anarchist, I understand the need for authority. I’m now old enough and wise enough to know that to hate the police is not a fair or healthy outlook. We need the police. I’ve called on them more than a few times myself. They’ve never done me harm.

So, why does my blood boil when they abuse their authority? My ancestry. Also, I’m a pot-smoking artist/skateboarder who loves punk, reggae, hip-hop music — and, ultimately, police brutality is just plain wrong.

How do we stop it? Could better training stem excessive force? I decided to interview an officer from the Louisville Metro Police Department. He’s currently working at a high school where I was a substitute teacher, one of the ‘worst’ high schools in Louisville, where a great number of kids are considered ‘at-risk’.

To be clear, he is not a security guard for the school. He handles deeper issues with students who might be homeless, victims of abuse, or whose guardians are extremely bad influences. Before this job, he worked the beat during the graveyard shift in the West End and Portland neighborhoods in Louisville. Those are the areas with the most housing projects, and highest crime rates. The Portland neighborhood was my dad’s old stomping grounds. You can see the big skull & crossbones (engine pistons) on the face of the Louisville Outlaws clubhouse as you enter the West End coming down Market Street.

I sat down with Officer Bob*, in a glass-walled conference room next to the school’s main office. I was a little nervous because it was my first interview. I think he was a little confused as to what astrology had to do with police training when I told him Planet Waves was an astrology website. That’s what I get for calling it an “astrology website.” Lesson learned.

After asking about his work history with the force, I began by mentioning the Freddie Gray video, which had just been released one day prior. I asked if he had any opinion or insight as to why this kept on happening. He said he couldn’t speak for another officer, or officers’, actions. Fair enough.

I asked if de-escalation and risk-assessment were part of his training. He explained that, yes, he was given “scenarios” where he practiced using de-escalation, and risk-assessment techniques to avoid force. He added, “but there’s only so much they can teach you.” Knowing the neighborhoods where he patrolled for seven years, I believed him. Still, I wanted to know if there were any instances in his career when he felt like he would have benefited from better training. He said no, but he did think that better training would help.

After the interview, I felt a wee bit of healing in my ancestral rift with authority, but not much. I still felt fairly shitty about cops in general, convinced the officer I interviewed was a rare breed. The Freddie Gray video didn’t help. I had no idea what was coming, but I felt the wave building inside and all around me.

There are good cops out there, I knew that much. I needed to know there were a bunch of good cops grouped together. I needed to know that some police department, somewhere, knew how to train their officers. I burned to know that there was an alternative to the antagonistic, occupying forces that, by way of systemic and/or blatant racism, were making the lives of blacks all across this nation a living hell.

Also, I could not overlook the obvious racial element underlying much of this issue. I’ve been seeing this since Rodney King. I was admittedly scared when I saw the LA riots on the news as a boy, but that was before I could see behind the veil of the media. This issue is bigger than police training and brutality.

Still, I Googled “progressive police departments,” and came upon a jewel of an article in The Atlantic. In it, Seth Stoughton, an ex-cop turned scholar, pointed out that although American cops are among the best trained in the world, “what they’re trained to do is part of the problem … Officers aren’t just told about the risk they face. They are shown painfully vivid, heart-wrenching dash-cam footage of officers being beaten, disarmed, or gunned down after a moment of inattention or hesitation.”

It’s easy to imagine how that trains officers to shoot first, and ask questions later.

However, as the article points out, there is hope. Richmond, California’s, police department is getting results by way of better training. Stoughton writes, “Police agencies that have emphasized de-escalation over assertive policing, such as Richmond, California, have seen a substantial decrease in officer uses of force, including lethal force, without seeing an increase in officer fatalities (there is no such data on assaults).”

Obviously, it’s better to try to talk a person out of trouble than to provoke them into it. With at least one example for less enlightened police departments to follow, I had hope. Better training is a step in the right direction; but other police forces need to be aware it exists. And the citizens and officials of the communities they police need to vocally and actively push for this kind of change. Of course, there is no panacea: no amount of scenario training, no fail-proof de-escalation chart, no algorithm that can fix such systemic issues by itself. A complex web of factors contributes to the current state of police culture in the U.S.

As for my beef with authority, it’s been cut down to a digestible portion. As of completing the first draft of this piece (May 9), the Sun is a couple days past an exact conjunction with my midheaven, and will be exactly conjunct my natal Chiron in a matter of minutes. My wounded perception of authority is healing. Officer Bob, if you’re reading this, that’s how astrology relates to it all.

Responding to the issue of police brutality with some investigation forced me to be honest with myself. I can finally empathize with the police, even while the war rages on outside — but I’ll always stand firm against abuses of authority. Yet I can’t help but wonder, given my dad and grandpa’s run-ins with the police: if they weren’t white would I even be here?

*not his real name

Note: Amanda Moreno expects to be back with her column next weekend. In the meantime, Here’s the first part of another of our Featured Articles from Cosmophilia: You Belong Here. You may read the piece in its entirety here; comments are welcome below and on the Cosmophilia website. — Amanda P.

by Elizabeth Routledge

I turned fifty in 2012, some months before the prophecies for ‘The End of The World’ (as we knew it), were due to kick in. Being the hopeful type I felt excited at the prospect of a paradigm shift and my part in it. The world and mainstream media, however, painted a different picture: as a woman of ‘a certain age’ I was approaching invisibility and impending retirement.

Betty Dodson and younger friend; Photo by Eric Francis

The endless rampant consumerism, ecological suicide and perpetual war seemed to go on its not-so-merry way.

In a world that worships youth and the next new thing I could succumb to feeling irrelevant. Yet I keep coming across vital older and elderly women who are wise, inspiring and contributing positively to the story of our world.

One, numerologist Gail Minogue, claims that:

…offstage, waiting for the spotlight, are the middle-aged women…Everything is cyclical. We have not visited the importance of middle-aged women for about 200 years so we have little reference to this phenomena. This phase of power for this group will last until 2044 (starting 2024) so it is a long run and will have women in their 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s running the financial systems, the political systems, the social and cultural systems and the general well-being of our society.

If she is right, then women need to get ready to (re)claim power and authority, not as monstrous ‘Maggie Thatchers’ (i.e., taking on ‘masculine’ attributes) but as leaders, curators, storytellers, filmmakers, CEOs, mentors, elders and paradigm-bridgers who can inspire and nurture future generations.

The Good Book says that without vision the people perish, but the current vision of parasitic corporations, sociopathic puppeteer politicians, mindless military/police, and a populace without privacy or freedom is not one that serves humanity, but a disparate elite who fail to realize that we are all connected. These visionaries may well be the Women of Chiron, the wounded healers who have lived forgiveness and been transformed by pain.

There are too many women who lose their vision and sense of purpose as they age. I know many who would have once been called ‘spinsters’, some desiring to be in a relationship, others glad not to be, but all questioning their place in the world. We need to be reminded of how much we have to offer, and not be seduced by marketing that would have us compare and compete and compel us to carve up our faces into the neotenous masks of plastic surgery. It is a futile resistance. The media constantly exacerbates our fears of being discarded because we are no longer childbearing, no longer desirable, and therefore of very little value.

But we have much to offer. We do belong here. We must begin to recognize the beauty of the lines and scars that tell our stories. We must begin again to value life experience, wisdom and character. We must champion the elders and their wisdom — before it is too late.

The older woman particularly needs to think bigger and bolder, to dream again, and place a new value on who she is and why she is here. “… The future belongs to a very different kind of person with a very different kind of mind — creators and empathizers, pattern recognizers … These people — artists, inventors, designers, storytellers, caregivers, consolers, big-picture thinkers … The Conceptual Age,” writes Daniel Pink, in A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule The Future.

Surely that includes the experienced female, humbled by life, yet full of empathy and understanding?

Continue reading here.

By Kathi Linehan

“She’s here!” announced one of the boys. I smiled and put my fingers to my lips indicating he should shush, because Mr. P was teaching in the front of the room. All the 5th graders began fidgeting at their desks, some casting furtive glances at me, some smiling, but all of them noticeably activated.

Graphic supposedly created for a 2004 special presentation by PBS and Oregon Public Broadcasting about the history of sex ed in public schools. Sadly, according to an OPB spokesperson reached by phone, no such program ever aired.

Like a rite of spring, it was time for the separate girls’ Reproductive Health class with Nurse Kathi.

Do you remember yours? Was it a nurse talking with you, maybe a gym teacher, or ‘the movie’ like it was for me in the ‘60s? Did you, or could you, say vagina or penis in class? Back then it was called Sex Ed, but we are more politically correct with our title now — if a child lives in a state that even allows a factual presentation about the changes of puberty.

I was lucky enough to be working in New Mexico, one of the 22 states in the U.S. that mandate sex education, at a K-8 school of primarily middle-class kids. As their school nurse, I was deemed by the Public Education Department as best suited to teach 4th through 8th graders about their body changes. I was especially grateful that this was NOT one of the three states that mandate only negative information about same-sex relationships. I could only imagine the feelings of anxiety, shame or isolation such a presentation could cause for any gay or lesbian students, or those with gay or lesbian parents.

Knowing that he had lost the students in this 5th grade class (one of three), the teacher instructed the boys to go to Mrs. K’s room across the hall and the girls to stay with me. One of the boys said jeeringly to a girl, “Have fun!” as he walked by me to exit; I couldn’t resist cheerily saying to him, “See you boys at 2:00.”

The smile fell off his face, as if he had forgotten that his boys-only class followed the girls’. Had he enjoyed embarrassing her about the thought of learning about her body, and then realized he was embarrassed as well?

I cherished my hour with this age group of girls. In 4th grade the girls watched a cartoon movie with me and I showed them how to put a sanitary pad on underwear, as some of them would need to know that at age 9, but that was about all they could handle. But by age 10 to 11, hormones can burst forth like daffodils in spring, and they are eager and ready for real information.

They want to understand why that boy is pushing them on the playground, or they feel a ‘zing’ with someone who, until then, had just been a friend. Hormones are powerful and at this age the attractions of puberty can come out ‘sideways’. They aren’t equipped to handle the feelings; they want to be close or touch someone, but are often misdirected in their attempts.

The students had been taught in previous life-skills classes that they were in control of their bodies, and with that personal responsibility they learned that yes means yes, and no means no. It was my role to reinforce the concept, especially now that they were older and could soon be in an increasing number of situations where they may not have a parent or adult readily available to intervene. These girls weren’t dating yet, but a parent might drive a group of them to the movie theater, and knowing some of these girls, I could be assured they would text a group of boys to meet them there.

We talked about what they could do when another person pushed them at recess. They had the ready answer of “Tell an adult,” like the yard-duty staff or their teacher, which was how these conflicts were usually handled in the school setting — focused on finding a resolution with the involved students. But, if they weren’t at school, how they could advocate for themselves by saying, “I don’t like you pushing me (or touching me) that way, and I want you to stop now”?

Being able to let someone else know what is not okay at that age could only grow into a great skill to have as an adult, and hopefully lead to healthy relationships. And what if that assertion was followed by a question such as “Why were you pushing me?” I can imagine a moment of introspection, followed by the honest answer of “Well, because I like you.” I may be a dreamer, but I was planting seeds of hope for a new generation in which transparency about feelings could be the norm.

We were just sitting and talking together, so when I pulled forward my flip chart to talk about their bodies and the changes of puberty, no one seemed overly concerned. But when I turned to the drawing with an internal view of ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus and vagina to discuss the cycle of menstruation and used the word vagina, screams and laughter filled the room.

It wasn’t my first time teaching this class, so I just waited for it to subside. I pointed to my elbow and asked what body part that was, and they said, “elbow.” I pointed to my nose, and they said, “nose.” I pointed to the vagina on the picture, said “vagina,” and they lost it again.

Now I got to do my second favorite thing when teaching 5th grade girls’ reproductive health: to normalize the names of body parts related to the reproductive system and sexuality. I talked about growing up in America today and how in our culture the real names of our body parts related to sexuality are uncomfortable even for many adults to say. On top of that, each of them had family, cultural and perhaps religious values that could shape how they think about anything related to sex.

Just as a topic for pondering, I asked the students what it says about us as a society when we consider the number of euphemisms we have for male and female sexual anatomy.

This was recently demonstrated on The Daily Show when Jon Stewart was interviewing Dana Perino. She was talking about a picture of herself and her dog on the cover of a magazine.

This grown woman, a former White House press secretary accustomed to daily verbal parries with the most direct of reporters is also a current talk show host — therefore most likely familiar with the rules surrounding what words can and cannot be said on TV. Yet she was cringing as she tried to describe being questioned about her dog’s leg.

As Perino put it, the dog’s leg was “directly covering, you know what; the junk thing.”

When Stewart went on to clarify what she was referring to, her answer of “well, not that part, the other part,” was filled with as much trepidation. I really think she would have been just as uncomfortable had she not been on TV, and just talking with a friend.

In the classroom I explained that, for me, the reproductive system is no different from the respiratory or cardiac systems of the body, with organs that had names and functions. I reminded the girls that in addition to deciding what they would allow another person to do with them physically, no one could force them to say anything, either. I said that if they wanted to, there was something I’d like to try together that could help them.

I said, “Let’s all say the word vagina together until we can do it without giggling.” They agreed they could try, and we kept saying “vagina” together. At first the laughing was more uproarious than before, but by the 7th or 8th time, there were just giggles, and finally they could say it in a normal tone.

“Woohoo, you did it!” I praised them for trying that exercise. I’d posit that saying vagina without giggling is not only a step toward accepting our bodies, but necessary for learning to love our bodies — and ourselves.

The class continued and at the end I told them that if they had any more questions they could always talk with me in my office, or could talk with a parent or other trusted adult — that we are waiting for them to ask questions, because many times adults just don’t know how to bring up the subject of sexuality. I reminded them that talking with their friends is ok, too, but that their friends may not know any more than they do, and an adult might have better answers.

Of course, I wish I’d had more than only an hour with those girls, but I can find comfort in the knowledge that there are about 50 girls born in the year 2003 or so who can say the word ‘vagina’ without giggling. If only I could spend some time with Dana Perino so we could practice saying the word ‘penis.’

What about you? Have you had to work at saying ‘vagina’ or ‘penis’ without a giggle, without feeling awkward? Have you ever thought about why?

Personally, when I’m aware of a feeling or apprehension that does not seem situationally appropriate, it’s a signal to delve into my past to find the root cause. Generally, there has been a judgment or shaming that I have internalized that requires excavation. Brought to the surface, it can be examined and truth can shine its healing light. Given how taboo it is to speak of sex and genitalia with anything like relaxed candor, and how lacking the sex education is in most states, we might need backhoes to excavate the whole country.

Way back in 1994, then-Surgeon General of the United States Dr. Jocelyn Elders was invited to speak at a United Nations conference on AIDS. Asked whether masturbation would be appropriate to promote to young people as an alternative to riskier sexual activity, she replied, “I think that it is part of human sexuality, and perhaps it should be taught.”

Dr. Joycelyn Elders with Good Vibrations Executive Vice President, Jackie Rednour-Bruckman, at Catalyst Con West 2013, where she applauded and endorsed International Masturbation Month efforts. Photo courtesy of Good Vibrations.

Sensible? Yes — but it was too much for the Clinton administration to handle, and she was fired. In response, the following year the Good Vibrations sex toy store in San Francisco dubbed May National Masturbation Month.

As Good Vibrations notes in an a blog post from earlier this week, it’s now International Masturbation Month, thank you very much. In the last 20 years, a lot has changed in American culture — some things for the better, some not (I’m looking at states implementing drastic regulations and waiting periods on abortion, for example). Masturbation is still not a family-dinner-conversation topic for most people, but then again, how many families actually manage to gather around the dinner table anymore?

The topic of self-pleasure is, I think, far less taboo than it once was. For all the ways the Internet is messing with how we connect and communicate — and even how we think — it has also made information and discourse about masturbation available to virtually anyone who can get online.

Yes, technology is having a questionable impact on the ability of younger generations to engage in truly intimate relationships, and a lot of the porn out there does not model “healthy” or “realistic” sex. But there’s a ton of masturbation to be seen out there, numerous legit resources for those with questions, and a lot more people talking about it like it’s the normal, pleasurable, healthy, non-shameful thing it is.

After all, once upon a time in 1970, Betty Dodson (Planet Waves’ sexual godmother) found out that while drawings of nude couples having sex might be a hit on Madison Avenue, a gallery show of female nudes masturbating was a non-starter. In fact, it got her dumped from the NYC art world. As Betty describes here, the ensuing realization that masturbation was the bottom line of sexual repression set her off on her legendary, and revolutionary, career of educating women and empowering them to take ownership of their orgasms.

Not everyone is on board; oppressive forces continue to work in powerfully insidious (and astonishingly obvious) ways. Plenty of people are still working their way out from under heartbreaking and still all-too-common burdens of guilt and shame about their bodies and desires. If you’re on that path — or just appreciate a good pro-masturbation pep-talk every once in a while, here’s Eric’s article titled How to Be Your Own Lover from (I believe) May of 2000.

As he writes in the epigram, “There’s more to a healthy relationship to yourself than great sex — but it helps. A lot.”

With that, I wish you a very merry month of May.

Dear Madame,

I hope you can help me with my seven-year-old grandson. He’s an adorable boy and always has been, so full of life and fun! He loves to travel with his grandfather and me, and there isn’t much he isn’t curious about or won’t try at the dinner table so you can imagine what great company he can be.

Of course you’ve probably guessed by now that he’s a Sagittarius. But we have this little problem: he’s a thief! More than once last summer we left our tip on the table and returned for some reason, only to find it gone. Now that we’ve caught him, we make him walk out of the restaurant ahead of us just to keep an eye on him. I thought Sagittarians were above this. Why would he do this?

Signed,
Nana’s Embarrassed

Dear Nana,

You and your husband sound like pretty fun-loving folks, yourselves — and notably tolerant for toting your grandson out on adventures. But let me tell you a secret about our charming Saggo folk: they’re cheap.

Ever wonder where their ‘make-do’ mystique hails from? Their Second House.

I don’t mean the one in the Berkshires; I mean their 2nd natal house in the horoscope, AKA, the Money House. It’s run by Capricorn and The Withholding Company.

I once knew a Saggo gal who chose to live without when the gas company shut her off for non-payment. Could she have sold off a few fancy things and paid the bill? Yes. She boiled water on the electric stove for baths, instead. For months. Who needs the Tetons when you camp in your own home!

Capricorn on the Second/Money House is a feminine sign in a feminine spot. It wants passive income. Or is disinterested in pursuing money. Capricorn, being of a thrifty and pragmatic flavor, here would rather do without or do with someone else’s money than press for their own. Junior Jr.’s clearly found his passive income source in your restaurant tips. And having Cappy instincts in the dollar house knows not to leave money on the table, right?

If you’re traveling with the lad this summer, keep in mind that Capricorn’s associate, Saturn, demands he grow up over the next couple of years. Show more self-control. However, over the summer Saturn’s lesson returns to a focus on your grandson’s hidden fears — his Scorpio Zone. Where we were last summer, in fact.

This is tough territory for Saggos. If he says he’s gonna ‘die’ if he doesn’t get this or that, assume it’s more than manipulative whining this time. Saturn in Scorpio could send the giddiest grown-up Saggo crawling to the nearest coffin maker and calling for a hearse. Imagine what that feels like to a kiddo.

YOUR job as the elder is to step up and be a great Saturn for your grandson. That means, teach him something useful. And this summer it’s the lesson that you’re not gonna die. Swiping tips might be his ‘survival’ technique, but taking what others have earned is a bad habit to start. Replace that with small rewards (money, even) for helping others, including you. Give him small, specific jobs on your vacation together. Have him hand the tip money to the server, himself, etc.

Saturn loves a plan, so make the plan clear to you and grandson. And then honor it to the letter. By September you may have helped him conquer his first fear of mortality and made a positive money habit, too. The two are, indeed, related. Trust me.

Yours + 20%,

Madame Z

For this week’s sex-and-relationships column, here’s the beginning of Part Three of Eric’s series on sexuality from 2008. That series, called “It’s Not About Sex. It’s About Self.” is an in-depth look into jealousy, self-esteem, compersion, intimacy and sexuality — and related topics. I’ve chosen Part Three because of its focus on self-esteem, which was a focus in Thursday’s subscriber issue as well as recent blog posts here on PW. — Amanda P.

Dear Friend and Reader:

THOUGH IT MAY be difficult to see, we have a serious self-esteem problem in our society. We are, in short, either taught that we don’t exist, taught to hate ourselves, or some combination of the two. Most people you see walking around on the street don’t feel worthy of love. And this seems to be a matter of selflove, or the lack thereof.

Fae from the Book of Blue by Eric Francis.

Self-hatred is perpetuated by nearly everything we see in the media, but most particularly advertising. It is reinforced hundreds of times a day, perhaps more boldly than any other emotion.

If we are lacking self-esteem — a problem so pervasive as to be invisible — we are going to have a lot of problems in relationships. This can account for much of our stuff around jealousy. For example, if we need a relationship to know that we exist, then we will naturally feel that our existence is threatened if our partner so much as smiles at someone else.

If much of our trip in relationships is designed to cover up a lack of real self-awareness, we are adding several dense layers of complication to finding out who we really are. It would seem that the real solution to our relationship stuff, our jealousy, our loneliness and many other factors, is to figure out who we are, enter a conscious relationship with that person, and then take that into our relationships with others.

In other words, we need to get to the place where the most honest relationship we have in the world is with ourselves, and then let that overflow into our encounters with the people around us — not forgetting what order these things happen. Unfortunately, we are taught to have relationships with ourselves that are based specifically on denying and deceiving ourselves. This is a sad state of humanity, but one that could be easily addressed — if we were somehow relieved of the fear to look within.

In today’s edition, I cover some points that have been raised over and over again, but which need to be repeated and I hope thought through. None of what you will read today is particularly original. We may feel that feminism has covered a lot of this ground, but it’s been a long time since. And a lot of things have happened since.

Continue reading here.

Here’s this week’s featured essay from the Cosmophilia website. Amy Elliott charts her path toward feeling a sense of belonging after being told quite the opposite early in her life. You’re invited to comment below if the piece strikes a chord with you. — Amanda P.

By Amy Elliott

So far I have heard two opposing and rather unappealing stories about my conception. I was the last child by a decade, and my father often used to call me an accident. More recently, I was told I was the instrument that kept my mother in her unhappy marriage for another 12 years.

Photo by Danielle Voirin

I will probably never be certain exactly how much I was wanted, or for what reasons.

Growing up with my parents, and later their separate households and new partners, helped to cement my sense that I lacked worth. I was an encumbrance, a clumsy, moody liability who was generally yelled at, punished or ignored. I spent my teenage years in a pensive, petulant haze. There was no such place as home: in every dwelling I was an interloper.

I still carry this feeling today; in every circle, my very presence seems a presumption, making me comfortable nowhere. I qualify for enough psychiatric conditions to make a one-person mental hospital.

It is a profound indictment of the human condition that my case is very, very far from being unique. For many survivors, that fact is also an invaluable support.

Abuse can often leave a person feeling as though their life is a life sentence. There’s the guilt (albeit for another person’s crimes) and the sense of treading on eggshells; the notion that one is never quite free to be oneself; and the simple absence of the bubble of happiness that surrounds the more fortunate. Sadly, for many of us there are also insurmountable obstacles in the way of decent help, and of ultimate justice. Western society is still learning how to care for the mistreated.

In the meantime, I am continuing on my slow journey towards freedom. It’s a little like wading through treacle, and I sometimes have to remind myself that because I only got one ‘hiding’ as my father termed it, and because he never actually touched me inappropriately, I got away lightly. Because I have kind friends and some helpful family members, shelter and enough to eat, I am lucky. And after all, my experiences have given me better sensitivity, liberality and compassion. In a judgmental world, I feel blessed to have the gift of empathy, even though it can be like a thousand little pinpricks in my heart.

Continue reading here.