Dear Mrs.James

Step Six of the Survivor Program For Adult Survivors of Childhood Abuse

Anger is natural.
Anger cannot be contained.
Anger should be expressed.

You were no doubt angry as a child.
You were afraid of your anger.
You bottled up your anger.
You now lash out in anger.
You now over control your anger.
Your anger turns inwards.

Write a letter to your abuser expressing your anger.

Dear Mrs.James (Excerpts)

I loved you.
With every single inch of my four year old heart. You were the best teacher in the whole wide world.
You had the longest legs. Always in bell-bottoms. You were ta-all.
And you were black. Blacker than me.
You had a Natural like Angela Davis at her trial as she spewed revolution.
Or was it like Bobby Farrell’s the man in Boney M, hired to lip sync a white man’s words?
Or wait. Was it braids?
Oh you sang. How you sang.

You didn’t like girls wearing pants.
Girls wear frocks you said when I turned up in a safari suit exactly ditto like the one Appa would wear.
You put me in the boy’s line.
If you wear pants you stand with the boys you said.
The frocks giggled falling out of line.
At me.
But I was so happy.
It wasn’t an insult.
You had seen me.
I was a boy.
Till I was six.
When I fell in love with another boy.
How can you be a boy in a girl and love another boy?
We were the same height and he was supposed to hold my hand when we stood in line in pairs.
He never did.
Maybe Amma was right.
I was untouchable.
I stole his sketch pens.
Now that’s a lesson learnt for not holding my hand

Amma didn’t say a word
I still remember your look
As the two of us stood silent
You saw me look at you
You saw
The world here, before, tomorrow
All in a second
In a frame
You saw
What the turn of the decade would look like for the both of us
Amma dead
Me nearly so
You. Walked. Away.

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