Recovering Violation of the Feminine

In the darkness and shadow, hidden for many year, a memory. Since 2002 I have known the bump in the night. A night of too much in Washington and an evil hearted cab driver. I was in college then, recently back from living abroad.

At times a flash comes to me, a new part of the memory I have suppressed comes to the surface for me to recognize, to acknowledge so I can let go, forgive and have peace.

My close friend asked if I had been abused.

He wanted to make my person in bronze for a body of work. with Text

 We began with my bottom half. I assumed the posture of my nightmare. Extreme Yoga to hold a pose. This pose. Feel deep into it until my muscles ached and sometimes I lost all blood. As the silicon dried and then the plaster was applied, to harden. The weight growing heavier and I became glued, forced down, to the ground, to the slab bellow me.

 I felt certain that it was my time to process. It is my time to process. Each step up become harder to breath, out. Each leg, then arms bound above my head, the chest plate and lastly, very finally my face.  As each took away a different movement, a capability. At the end I held my heart. I am thankful to have the opportunity to work this way. For my friend to help give me palace to process. My book will be made of Tabacoo. My story i will intertwine with my prayers. In my four part binding and sacred plant I will not hold on any more. He will have no part of me anymore, not even in remnants soon.


I now look at these pictures as I post. I can smile seeing that my Krav Mega (Israel hand to hand combat) tank is what I am wearing while my face is covered. These are memories I have not shared. I think it's important to speak and share. To be strong together.