Hi my name is Ieisha Moore I’m a 28 year old women born and raised in Detroit MI. I’ve recently written a book entitled Facing My Truth Ieisha’s Story it talks about sexual molestation, domestic violence, and suicide. I was
The troubles commenced in December. I remember because it was my last day of school before Christmas break, and I always got excited about the parties. Okay not the party itself, but the food there. The year itself still remains
Minimal Traumas Imagine if you will, your a four-year-old female child in a bedroom with your 17-year-old brother. He makes you laugh plays with you rolls you up in blankets and shares his cookies with you. He takes you into
The first thing I remember growing up is the fact that I was always told that Dschinns are a real thing that live amongst us. The first memory I have is that my mom locked me up in our then
I’m a little girl in Pakistan. My story begins when I was just 6 or 7 years old.My abuser never penetrated me but he did enough to change my life forever. I was 6 or 7. He used to take
I let it go on for so many years, and then I hit my breaking point. This happened when I was 16, after enduring severe abuse from my father for over a decade. I spent all that time scared, confused,
I tell people I trust that I was molested which in my mind, seems far from the truth. Maybe if I was only molested, I wouldn’t have as many problems as I do now. I wasn’t just molested – I
I’ve written this in my head about a million times, but honestly after seeing people criticized for coming out later in life or “why didn’t they say something at that time” and the story that Terry Crews told and the
It started when I was 4 years old, too young to know much about the world. He was 12. He was someone I looked up to, someone I loved and thought could never do me wrong. He was my older
An open letter to my mother. My earliest memories of you were when you were changing my diaper. When I asked about how old we were when we moved from the house you said 10 months. The memory plays without
I remember living in Kansas City,MO. I was just an 8 year old girl with no issues happy as can be. Nice house nice family.( so I thought.) My brother sister and I were all adopted at a very young
For me writing this is getting justice because in the society we live getting this justice is as impossible as breathing without air. My name is Laiba just Laiba. My surname does not define me in any shape or form
When I was a child, 4 years old to be exact, having a family was a huge thing. An absent mother made it difficult for me to have that family, so having my Godmother and Godfather as that family was
Warning:- long. I guess I’m just inanely babbling into the void here, which does help, just getting all your thoughts out. This is a very watered down essay of my stupidly complex life. I feel as though I should make
At the age of 6 or 7 I was sexually assaulted or harassed I don’t really know what to call it it was so unusual so out of the ordinary that it took me almost 20 years to be able
I am not sure how old I was exactly perhaps 10, 11, or 12. My brother is 3 years older than me. We had discovered about getting high using inhalants. I remember i huffed gas then he did. I am
Hello, my name is Laiba. Just Laiba. My surname (Waseem) doesn’t define me in any shape or form, due to the fact not only is this my biological father’s name but also my abuser’s name. I was sexually abused from
I don’t how should I start this. Telling someone about my story helps me at first, but later I feel like I had given my burden to someone else and I feel guilty because of that. But I can’t stay
I’m not going to share EVERY memory of abuse with you… I would be here for a very long time writing… It is just an estimate (but I’m definitely “low balling” the number of times instead of over reaching) I
scared to close my eyes relax and become limber. afraid to slip into a helpless slumber make a wimper or a sigh. I see his face, his hands hot breath, the growing heat. carried in by steps of creeping feet
I was sexually abused by my stepfather. My mother met him when I was two years old I remember nothing from my childhood before the 7th grade. I told my mother what happened I don’t know if she ever believed
I was not raped. I dont know what it is. Disrespected mainly. But it still hurts a lot as if I did get raped. My stepdad started little by little. He would lightly put his hand on my butt around