So, last night, I was getting ready to go out with my boyfriend to a dance at my school (which was cancelled due to lack of ticket sales) and, I had a nice black vest and a nice white shirt, and my uncle had just came home the other day from the mine (my uncle is homophobic and he has abused me many times throughout my child hood) and when I had came out of my room to show my memere how nice I looked, my uncle was in the room that i thought my grandma/memere would be in (she was downstairs doing laundry), and he asked me why I wasnt wearing a dress.
my memere and dad both know that I am transgendered and they respect that, however, my uncle does not, and he did not know.
so I decided to sit down and tell him the truth.
he listened carefully and quietlly through all of it, but at the end of my explanation he had said, “I didn’t raise you to be fucked up.”
I agreed, I am a huge mess, I have been for years, but my sexuality and gender identity is not a fuck up, so I argued with him.
he got to a point where, after so many months of piece, he slapped me.
and threw me to the ground and kicked me in the stomach, of course I had puked, and it hurt, a lot.
he grabbed me by the shirt and asked me, “are you a girl”, I said no, my sex is female, but my gender is male..and he dragged me to his room.
he once had a big dog, and he made that dog wear an eletrical dog collar, and weve always kept it in his room, because we dont need it (my uncle killed the dog), he threw me onto the bed and said,” ill ask you one more time, are you a girl” I said no.
held grabbed my wrist, and held onto it tightly, I have a bruise from how tight he was grabbing it, and he pulled out the dog collar, threw me back onto the bed, sat on me, and put the collar on me… then he began yelling, are you a girl, you are a girl, are you a girl, you are a girl, and my response of course was no, no, no, I am male, I am male.
whenever I said that, he would shock me, and it was /hell/.
I was screaming, which only caused the shocks to get worse and worse, and then he said, “do you want to find out how faggots have sex!?” of course I already know this, but still I said no no no no stop stop stop.
my memere had finally heard me and came rushing to the bedroom, and tried to make my uncle stop, but he pushed her down, and thanked god she was okay.. since shes very fragile and all.
she then ran back to the stairs to call up my dad, and oh boy did he run.
he ran up stairs and shoved my uncle away from me and started fighting with him, yelling, punching, kicking, and such so on.
my memere got the collar off of me and brought me into her room, and after my dad and uncle were done fighting, my uncle had grabbed the things he needed and left, shouting a few insults at us.
we called the police today, but they cant find him.
we dont have money for a lawyer, all we have is a counsellor, im not going to ask for money, all I ask for is support.
I dont know what this will do, but please spread this around, this has affected me and family members greatly. I was taken to a hospital today to check if there was any damage on my insides that we dont know of and thankfully there was no damage, just scarring, emotionally and physically. i had a horrifying nightmare relating to this as well.
If you have abused somebody, raped somebody, insulted somebody, in any way possible, I hope this can somehow change your way of heart, and realize how much this can horrify a person, and ruin their lives. it made my life 97x worse than it already is.
If you don’t reblog this that’s okay, but I hate you and you are wrong
STOP SCROLLING PEOPLE!!! Read and think,
I love tattooed women, maybe because they are uncontrollable, they are themselves to the point of drawing symbols of their power on their skin. Talk about owning your own body, being in your body, claiming yourself. I love it. When the world is in an uproar over whether women should have a choice or not when it comes to their own bodies, being tattooed is one of the most visible choices of all.
There once was a young boy with a very bad temper. The boy’s father wanted to teach him a lesson, so he gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper he must hammer a nail into their wooden fence.
On the first day of this lesson, the little boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. He was really mad!
Over the course of the next few weeks, the little boy began to control his temper, so the number of nails that were hammered into the fence dramatically decreased.
It wasn’t long before the little boy discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
Then, the day finally came when the little boy didn’t lose his temper even once, and he became so proud of himself, he couldn’t wait to tell his father.
Pleased, his father suggested that he now pull out one nail for each day that he could hold his temper.
Several weeks went by and the day finally came when the young boy was able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
Very gently, the father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.
“You have done very well, my son,” he smiled, “but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.”
The little boy listened carefully as his father continued to speak.
“When you say things in anger, they leave permanent scars just like these. And no matter how many times you say you’re sorry, the wounds will still be there.”
This was really an amazing and necessary thing to read right now.