Title: Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 4B…Spare The Rod A Little

Dear Survivor,

You can leave the lights on because at the end of this, WE WIN!! Follow me to the top–the survivors summit. An ale zanmi’m (let’s go friend).

My English professor taught me that fun facts were a great way to start. So here’s a fun fact: I ONLY eat the skin off of chicken! I don’t eat the meat and heaven forbid that I would even contemplate eating it on a bone ??. EWW!! Why not you ask? Because when I was sixteen talking back to my mother, my father shoved a RAW leg quarter down my throat. My first thought was Salmonella! I ran and washed my mouth with everything in the bathroom except the toilet bowl cleaner! Gross right!! I just want to vomit thinking about it. But FYI, if you’re a?, single male reading this, I like ALL my meat overcooked/burnt jic you ever wanted to cook for an emotionally damaged woman like me lol.

My mom–although not as harshly or frequently–used to abuse me too. Although with her, it was different. I didn’t feel like she wanted to kill me. I still felt her love afterwards. She told me that she loved me and that she was just trying to correct my wrong ways. Then she would hug me. I have to make mention of this because I don’t want anyone to think that I have a personal vendetta against my father, cause that’s really not the case–it’s about the abuse. Actually, lets go there because I want to publicly shut down all the “haters of the truth–my truth in particularly”. I’ve been “physically” abused by my parents for 14 loonnggg years! To some, that may seem like nothing, but if you experienced both sides of the belt, switches, high heel shoes, stoves, extension cords, phone cords, hangers, and other objects that parents have no business using on their children; then you’ll understand why those 14 years were so daunting!

Out of those 14 years of abuse, I HAVE NEVER CALLED THE POLICE ON MY PARENTS. So there’s your pudding–and BOOM here’s the PROOF. If I was out for revenge or to ruin my father, I’d have him arrested for the heinous acts committed on a minor or I’d tactfully take him down in other ways. I wouldn’t wait 15 years later to try to take him down with a blog post. I’ve shown you what I’m capable of so credit me a little more than that PLEASE. So for the last time, THIS IS SOLELY ABOUT THE ABUSE!

With that said, there was one time that a speaker came to my elementary school to speak about abuse. I did go up to him and ask him a few questions in third person, which prompted them to question some of my siblings. Too bad, I had already prepared them for any such meeting a long time ago. No, we are not abused–none of us and that’s ALL we’re saying. If you’d like to talk more, we need our parents with us. Then we shut up and shut down. Even that young, I wasn’t squealing, no matter how bad I wanted to. I wore heavy jackets and long sleeve clothes in the spring just to cover up the abuse instead. At times, I was even ill–yet still–no clinic visits because I didn’t want welts and bruises to be exposed. And I would do it again because my siblings needed their father. I’m not saying it was the right decision–it’s just what I chose to do for the sake of my family. C’mon, lets move forward.

So how did the abuse FINALLY COME TO AN END? This is very messy & extremely sensitive so I will address this briefly. Another sibling implicated my mother for child abuse. DCF was highly involved & my father didn’t want to risk going to jail so–the abuse stopped almost IMMEDIATELY!!! ??? PRAISE JEHOVAH WHO REIGNS IN ALL POWER & MIGHT, MY PRAYERS WERE FINALLY ANSWERED!!! God knows I never wanted either of my parents to be removed from the home. There was 9 children in that home who needed both parents. (This may be a little too real but I’m going to say it CAUSE IT’S MY TRUTH. It really should have been my father, instead of my mother, because he was responsible for MOST of the abuse that took place in that home.)

I didn’t want to see my mother go because she truly was a loving angel to all of us; although she had a tough time showing it to one of my sisters. I’m publicly saying sorry sis that you had to experience that–going through foster care & being separated from all of us for so long. Sadly & happily, her and I were the only two who experienced severe abuse. But hey–only God knows why it all happened like it did. Let’s lighten up the mood, because I saw those two little girls again while I was reliving those moments, and tears started coming.

Many are interested to know how has this abuse affected the dynamic of me and my father’s relationship. Frankly, we don’t have much of one. And it’s not only because of the abuse. It’s also because of certain actions & behaviors he demonstrated immediately following my mother’s death. As it relates to the abuse, yes, he apologized–although he still doesn’t identify it as abuse and he still blames me for it. ?‍♀️?‍♀️ So was it sincere? To me–NO! But my life doesn’t stop just because he doesn’t regret what he did to me. It just serves as a constant reminder of how I DO NOT WANT TO BEAT MY KIDS LIKE HE BEAT ME.

But to sum it up: We avoid each other as much as possible. For example, it’s been MANY months we haven’t seen each other but we live in the same city. Last we spoke on the phone even–was February. He got married to a…clears throat…let’s try that again. He got married to some woman 11 months after my mother passed away. Hmm. He and my mother were married for 30 years so that really, really hurt us–badly!! Let’s just say I didn’t go to the wedding so he said he won’t be attending mine he threatened–whenever that is ?. But I’m okay with that! I want my male bff to walk me down the aisle. He’s actually been there for me the last 10yrs+.

So…how does this affect my relationship with men? Let me just say this: I WILL BEEP A MAN UP IF HE EVER PUTS HIS HANDS ON ME. Straight Up (in my Jamaican accent). I don’t play that! I had to punch one of my ex’s dead in the eye for putting hands on me. I wanted to leave him. He wanted me to stay. He hit me and started slamming me against my red truck. I was terrified. I saw red & I REFUSED TO BE SOMEONE ELSE’S VICTIM! I struck him so hard in his left eye that I caused both eyelids to swell up looking like a bumble bee stung him. I put that nice black ring around it as a reminder too. Jumped in my truck and never saw him again!

I don’t condone violence but I vowed to NEVER LET A MAN PUT HIS HANDS ON ME AGAIN AND GET AWAY WITH IT–including my father. I’ve been beat up ENOUGH! So now that you know that I’ll never be anyone’s punching bag; lets chat emotional damage. I can answer for myself ofc but I asked my ex who I dated for over 3 years to answer. “You’re extremely aggressive and defensive because you feel that every man is here to attack and hurt you like your father did. Don’t get me started on your lack of submission and respect to authoritative figures, including myself. I have to fervently remind you who’s the man. Who’s in charge. Who’s the boss. Who’s crowned King ?. All those titles are ME–not you. I get that you’re afraid that your man will abuse his power, like other important men in your life have. But I’ve told you repeatedly, I won’t do that to you. I love you. I simply want to show you the love, passion, and security you deserve. But you’re so traumatized from the helplessness of your past that you won’t let a real man in.” he wrote to me because I didn’t want to miss a word!

And he’s right. He knows me VERY WELL. All of me! I used to date a couple passive men to get my way. Just care about them & sex them good. Get them sprung and I was the King AND Queen.? But that wasn’t a healthy relationship. He had to teach me not to lash out when I got angry. What’s are those infamous words again ??…SELF-CONTROL. From a young age, it was demonstrated to me that violence, pain,  verbal/emotional/physical abuse,  condescension, & anger was the answer. So yeah that’s how I dealt with things. I would get so livid and punch holes in walls all the way up to the age of…lol. When my parents hurt me, I would have my siblings hold up the back of skillet & frying pans. I would punch them till either my knuckles ruptured or the anger to hit back left me. My knuckles have so many scars. I broke glass, flipped tvs over without thinking twice. I done more but that’s none of y’all damn business lol. I resorted to the way my father dealt with his upset. He didn’t break stuff, but I was still just like him. A monster. A savage. A beast. See, I can admit that I was a mean person!

But having amazing people like my mother, my previous ex and previous previous ex lol, my bestfriends, close friends, and two or three siblings who loved the broken Ketsia enough to help her be restored got me to this point. But the most influential person to date is Jesus Christ. His light penetrated my dark soul. He placed the aforementioned people in my life. He told me to trust Him & I did. He broke the generational curse over my life & set me free. I’m a stronger, better woman now. I walk in love. I have better self-control. I’m led by generosity–sometimes to a fault.

I still have some guards up, but my anger issues have depreciated greatly! I’ve learned how to address issues THE RIGHT WAY. FINALLY!! It’s been years since my last incredible hulk episodes lol. I had to switch to positive vibes real quick! My male bff says I had such a deprived childhood, so I made it my mission to make up for it ???. Please believe I’ve been living my life to the FULLEST! Sometimes too full that I’ve put myself in a couple ruts. But I managed. We’ll explore those choices soon.

So, how to identify child abuse. Look at the clothing kids wear. Are they appropriate for the season? Actually, PLEASE click on this link and it will guide you way better than I can! Get Educated! https://www.childwelfare.gov/topics/can/identifying/ Be BOLD. Be BRAVE. Be STRONG! If you, or anyone you know are suffering from child abuse PLEASE DON’T HESITATE TO CALL 1-800-4-A-CHILD or 1-800-422-4453. We care & we’re here to help!

As usual, thank you for sharing in my journey survivor! I ❤ you for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment below. Please keep #MeToo trending by including it in your comments or responses!

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


– Ketsia

Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 4A: Spare The Rod

Dear Survivor,

I want to do something a little different this time. If you can, turn off your lights RIGHT NOW or go somewhere dark like a closet or sit in your car on your break (if it’s nightfall). I’m writing this to you in complete darkness & since you’re journeying with me, I want you to feel me. I want US to feel this together. So, c’mon. Be a good sport and participate.

“You HATE ME. You don’t want me anymore. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t think I can take another minute living here. I make you too angry. But I have an idea that I think would be best for the family” I remember reading aloud from a letter addressed to my father. See that wasn’t the plan though. I placed it on his pillow while he was showering. He–not me–was supposed to read it and prayerfully? give me a yes answer. Instead, I heard a frustrated voice call my name. “Yes daddy” I answered as I made my way back into his room. “Did you leave this here?” he questioned. Uhhh duh, I thought to myself. I’m the only child here that you hate. Who else would it be? Still, I responded yes to his obvious question. “Read it to me” he ordered as he sat on the edge of his bed shaking.

“…best for the family. Auntie SoSo, (a different aunt than the one who’s husband molested me and housed me when I was AWOL) always wanted kids of her own but couldn’t have any. She wants me. She loves me. Can I please move to Orlando to live with her? I know this will make you happy because I will be out of your life. I will no longer ashame nor anger you. I have already spoken to her and she will take me in if I gain your approval. May I please go?” I read frighteningly, with a closing, “Forever Your Daughter” — Ketsia, that followed.

“You want to leave? You want to go? Pay me back for EVERYTHING I’ve ever done for you, then you can f**king go!” he exclaimed as his eyeballs got so big I thought they were going to pop out of his sockets! My father was so furiously angry that he quickly gaited out of the room and I quickly gaited into mine. Let’s make one thing clear: profanity was NOT used in our home. I only heard my father curse TWICE–and both times was directed at me. My head is spinning. I’m crying unceasingly. How am I going to come up with enough money to pay him back because I really wanted to go? I WAS ONLY 13. It was at this point that I knew that I was REALLY, TRULY unwanted–he just wanted all the wasted time, money, & energy that he put towards raising me thus far.

There was no “my daughter, why would you think that? I love you. I think the world of you. Things may not always be easy between us, but daddy will always want you” spiel–NONE OF THAT. I just sat in a corner crying. Of course feeling rejected and unwanted by the first man to ever love me hurt. But at least he wasn’t prying out chunks of my flesh with objects at his disposal. Instead, he stormed into my room and summoned me to this painful object called “the fè”. In English it translates to “iron” or metal, which is exactly what it was. It was installed in the floor (imagine an air vent grille) and it conveniently came with the freaking house.

As a form of punishment, my dad would make us kneel on “the fè” for extended periods of time. It was excruciating because your weight was pressed down against those thin, sharp, rusty blades that perforated your skin. No matter how deep the blades penetrated, you couldn’t get up until you were given permission. It hurt so badly that I didn’t want my siblings to experience it. I was one of the oldest, so it was my duty to protect them. Just blame it on me, I would advise them. Just say I broke it so you won’t get in trouble. I often took the punishment for them. Me and the fè were so well acquainted, that I was becoming desensitize to the pain. Okay wait, I still felt the pain–I think what started helping was my mental & emotional disconnect.

I started to not see him as my father who was supposed to love and protect me from this kind of pain–I seen him for exactly what he was–a deeply angry man that took all his miserable failures & woes out on me. He was a monster. A savage. A beast. Bèt sovaj. And PLEASE spare thine ear naysayers. Ooh, it’s a cultural thing! His grandad did it to his father and his father did it to him and now my father is doing it to his son–oops, I mean daughter right? My father was a pastor teaching the word of God and edifying people in the way they should follow. Please, for Christ’s sake, remember that God is love. And His love breaks ALL generational and cultural curses, biases, and normativeness. So don’t give me a sorry excuse for child abuse. I WON’T STAND FOR IT.

Let my father tell it. I was a 6 year old bandit. Yes, I may have stolen a few wallets from old men, but damn it was only like 3 or 4 times. At night church services, I hugged them, then I robbed them. I took all the cash they had, then disposed of their wallet in the bushes. I’ve been kind enough to return the wallet before too. I told them I found it on the floor near the church entrance.

One day I had embarrassed my dad so much that a beating wasn’t enough. He wanted to torture a little 6 year old. He put the stove on high and waited till the burner was redish-orange hot then he lifted me up and placed my little fingers a few centimeters away. I could feel the heat vapor burning my skin. I was so close to it. I was terrorized! I was wailing. I was screaming. “If you steal again, I’m going to burn you” he yelled as we both were sweating profusely. He just held my hand there as long as he could until the vapor was burning his hand too. Deep down inside, this is just speculation, but I feel like my father would have burned me if he would have gotten away with it.

I’ve always had an inquisitive mind. I’m thorough. I asked questions because comprehension was everything to me. I didn’t choose this way of thinking, I was born with it. I like to understand how and why things work or don’t work. For example, if I asked my father for something or to do something, I was okay with the NO’s he always gave me. I was more concerned with why. That was a problem for him. He felt like I was undermining his authority and that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t still begging to have my way. I was asking why. If there is a peril that awaited me in doing this–warn me. Tell me. Teach me.

Asking “WHY” didn’t merit being punched in the chest repeatedly like he was squaring up with another man. I was a young girl. He knocked the wind out of me–several times. Why was I on the other side of his raging fist. One time he was so upset with my asking “WHY” that it provoked him to grab me by my ponytail and start spinning me around the room. Literally turning me around in circles by just the latch of my tresses. Then he threw me on the floor like I was trash to be taken out.

It’s like my father took joy in “disciplining” me. He found pleasure in inflicting pain. He enjoyed seeing me cry. Seeing me scream. Seeing me bleed. Seeing the welts he tattooed all over my body–especially the ones that “somehow” got around my neck–even my damn ear one time. Ohh, he got creative too! He bit me hard many times with his canine teeth. He scratched me or the belt’s prong scratched me or a combination of all as this happened every now and then–either way–the biting and scratching broke skin.

My dad would beat me so bad that I bled. These wales, at times, invaded my body. The surface of my skin was ruptured & elevated. I had some contusion where my skin & bruises were purple from repeated blows to my developing body. Depending on how hard & where he struck me, my organs hurt. My entire body was sore the next day and the day after that. I STILL HAVE BELT & BUCKLE SCARS ON MY BODY & I’m 29+1 years young!

My arms, my legs, my back, my chest, my butt, my thighs every freaking where covered! How was I supposed to sleep at night? PLEASE TELL ME. SOMEONE ANSWER ME!!! I remember a special little corner by my bed where I rested my head up against the wall. Several nights, I slept there. It was too painstaking to lay down. My body was in distress. Everywhere was throbbing. I’m surprised my head didn’t explode because of the way all my veins were popping out. I just rest my head there because I’m a freaking kid in elementary and middle school & I HAVE SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY–I had to get some sleep however I could get it.

I remember my mom sneaking next to me to give me water. She gave me peroxide and alcohol pads to close the wounds and help them heal faster. She apologized for him. She told me to stop making him mad. To just be quiet and not speak. She mumbled prayers over me under her breath. She covered me with a blankie. She couldn’t stay long cause God forbid he saw her there with me–he’d probably turn on her too. IDK. I’m going to leave that right there because I’m only here to share MY TRUTHS. I don’t know anyone else’s business. CARRY ON.

There’s times my mommy took up for me. Like times when he was beating the…stars out of me. His eyes were red and enlarged & his face purple and sweaty. You know those times when he blacked out and his fury took over? Yeah, a couple of times, she and one of my sisters would grovel at his feet pleading and begging for mercy. Once, they even threw themselves before “his mighty hand” as to shield me. “Tanpri, ba li yon chans. Fe pitye pou li souple. Fe’l gras. Fe pa’l!” my mother supplicated. (Have mercy on her. Please show some pity, etc.) My sister, bless her heart, would cry “Dad please! That’s enough! STOP! Do it for me daddy. Please stop.

My sister pleading on my behalf made sense though because she was a goody-goody. She could do no evil. She was perfect so of course her petitioning held some weight. There was a time or two that their request was granted so I was spared. I was desperate. I was also thankful although I resented my sister. Okay, TBH, I hated her growing up. She was a yes-person. Her compliance and weak-nature led me to begrudge her for a longtime. (But UPDATE: We’re good now. I ? her more than ever. I’ve learned to accept her the way she is and she receives me the same.) Let’s stop here for now. This is so heavy!

Writing about this was challenging to say the least. I cried many, many tears. At times, I just wanted to scream thinking of this torture and how it’s really messed me up! Parts of me still want to…let me bite my tongue RIGHT NOW Father Goddd! I have to call on Him, because only He knows the afflictions I suffered. And although I’ve endured these things, they don’t define me. In this post, I talked about the severity of the ABUSE. (There’s a little more to share next post.) But Sunday, if you’ll have me, I want to discuss the lasting affects it’s had on my life. How the ABUSE FINALLY STOPPED! How this misery affects my present relationship with my father.

But one of the most important things I wish to share is that NO ONE IS PERFECT! No matter what my dad has done to me, I will always love him. I don’t need ANYONE throwing stones at him. He fathered 11 children. Maybe he did the best he knew how to do. It’s been over 15 years since the abuse stopped. And besides, my other siblings hardly questioned “his authority” so they seldom got whoopings. Shoot, they hardly ever said anything at all (lolol I can’t help but to laugh right here). My focus is solely on the abuse–not the abuser. Next post we’ll talk about how we can help bring about change, which is most important.

As usual, thank you for sharing in my journey friend! I ❤ you for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment below. Please keep #MeToo trending by including it in your comments or responses!

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


– Ketsia

My 10 Wishlist Items For This Fall

Hello Loves,

I am not a fall person.  The temperatures begin to drop, people tend to stay indoors more, and it reminds me that snow is on its way.  I understand that it is inevitable that the seasons must change. Hence, I am choosing to cling on to the positive aspects of this season instead of dwelling on the negatives.  With the onset of this fall, I find the new available fashion possibilities exciting 🙂 .  This lead me to create my fall wishlist which I will share with you below.

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Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 3D: Military Madness Cont’d Complete

Dear Fellow Comrade,

Above ⬆️ you’ll find one of my receipts! I can’t give y’all all my personal files sheesh–but this shows y’all I’m legit. And no, I don’t need to embellish ANY of my experiences cause my wild, crazy self has lived through it all!! #FACTS…Now shall we? Is it?in here or is it?in here? Am I the only one flush right now? I know I was 17 when I enlisted, but I’ve been 18 for about a month now–so yeah, he’s staring right into the eyes of a woman! “What will I need to do in return sir?” I asked in a sexy undertone, leaning forward too. “You need to promise to put all of this mess behind you. When you return, I need you to finish your training,” he answered back. “Can you do that for me?” he requested. (I can’t do THAT but I can do something else I thought jokingly to myself.) “Is that it sir?” I asked kinda disappointed. “Yes, that’s it. Complete training so you can go on to AIT” he responded. “Umm…yes sir, I can do that.” I replied. “I know you can. I can see that you’re a good kid with a lot of heart.You just need to stop showing your azzz to everyone who gets in your way or who doesn’t always tell you what you want to hear. Congratulations on graduating. I hope you enjoy the time with your family. All the arrangements will be made for you. But remember, this is your last chance. The major already thinks I’m a dumbazzz to be giving you this opportunity so don’t mess it up Ms.Jean-Pierre. Make sure you report back ready to complete basic. Got that?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Thank you so much sir. I won’t let you down sir” I said as I extended my hand, giving him a firm handshake then immediately standing to my feet to salute him. Let’s make one thing clear: Just because I’m hypersexual DOES NOT mean that I welcome every sexual advance. I’m relieved that he only had a professional request. And I was so ecstatic about the news, I quickly went to gather my things.

I flew into Sarasota Airport, and attended my high school graduation! Guess what? Remember my bff that I was separated from at basic? She was there too! It was weird between us for the brief moment we spoke, but I was still happy to see her. The ceremony was beautiful and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. I told my parents that I didn’t want a graduation party–so afterwards, I just crashed my bff’s lol. She even let me sit at her head table and we were celebrated together. Throughout the festivities, we managed to catch up. She couldn’t believe I went AWOL & I couldn’t believe she didn’t stay with me. But I had to get over it because she was doing what was best for her and I was doing what was best for me.

Although, I had a splendid time at my graduation, that wasn’t the only reason I came back home. I had some unfinished business. So since the AWOL thing clearly didn’t work–I had one last attempt! I had to tell my father the truth. I had to tell him what the recruiter did. This was the last resort because I knew my father would make me remember this for the rest of his life! (This story STILL manages to come up every Thanksgiving.) But I was left with no choice because the ARMY administration clearly wasn’t trying to do anything about this even though they knew it was fraudulent. I had to woman up and face my father ??. “Hey Dad…”, I started as I sat him down.

Well now, my dad is infuriated. I told him everything. He was mad at me. But thank God he was more upset at the recruiter. “So that explains why so many uniforms came to the house looking for you on several occasions” he mentioned. “Yes, that would be correct. I left the post without permission, but that’s a story for a different time dad. Let’s stay focused.” I said trying to shift the attention off of what I had done and back on to that slimeball of a recruiter. “Well, I guess it’s time to lawyer up and go speak to this recruiter guy” my pops said convinced that there was some big payout at the end of this. Well dad, before we do that, how about we demand a meeting with my assigned post in Sarasota and speak to the company commander there? And if they aren’t willing to take this matter seriously, then we can lawyer up. My dad was STILL convinced that he had a civil suit, but he obliged.

They agreed to speak with us Monday afternoon–the first business day after my father made the call. Me: Business Professional Attire ✔. My dad: Sunday Morning Church Attire ✔ ??. Both looking spiffy! So now, we’re driving–heading to the post, and I’m giving my father the rundown of the facts AGAIN for the 50 millionth time. (I wasn’t worried or anything because my father was a savage when it came down to handling his business & his English was solid with a hint of an accent. [Ohh, where you thought I got my toughness & obstinacy from? My momma? Heck no! She was too meek and supple. RIP Mom ?]). I just wanted to go in there prepared! (I had every document numbered, key parts highlighted and enough copies for a 15-person meeting. I wasn’t playing y’all! Ohh and I left all the originals at home in a safe place jic they decided to pull a fast one and destroy my files and say they have no such recollection. Like I said AGAIN…I had this all figured out.) Now back to this meeting.

Things got real so fast when I looked around the conference room and noticed all the bigwigs present. The only worthless person before me was that sorry azzzz recruiter. I’ve been waiting months to be sitting across this douche to ask him WHY? I never thought I’d get the chance though–the way he avoided me & my bff’s calls since basic. I wondered what was going through his mind at the moment as he sat across from me in disbelief. Me? My disposition? Legs crossed, sitting pretty, looking like the REAL master manipulator in the room thinking: You underestimated me didn’t you? You didn’t think that after you bamboozled me, that I’d have the wits to pull something like this off huh? Shame on you. BELIEVE IT!!

The ARMY personnel thought that they could possibly prove a point by comparing the signature on my father’s driver’s license to that on the consent form because they were almost identical. True, but I have receipts! Remember those additional forms I mentioned in part 3A? One of them my father signed under the false pretense that it was a school form for a physical. That’s what he used! “Please turn to document 6 in your packet, where you will find the archetype used to forge my father’s signature” I said shutting their argument down. I killed the meeting!! All my dad had to say was “take my daughter out NOW because you never had my consent” and we would’ve been straight. But he took the opportunity to speak his mind some more.

He also made it clear that he would have sued the ARMY National Guard & won. But he won’t, because he knows they’ll only turn around and have him killed afterwards and no money was worth his life or peace of mind. Hey! He was probably right. Anyhow, the meeting closed with a forced apology from the recruiter and assurance that my father’s daughter will be discharged immediately. Man, I usually don’t ask my dad for NADA because of our volatile relationship. But he came through this ONE time so I’ll take it. Yesss!! FINALLY–I did it!! GOD DID IT!!

They initially said I didn’t have to report back to basic, but because of the communication barriers with my company there, it was best that I return and wait for them to send for me. And besides, I wanted to go back to collect the rest of my belongings and to see their faces as they watch this azzz walk away, yet again, but this time in VICTORY!! You can doubt many, but don’t doubt this mofo right here, ya hear me?! I slipped right back into my form fitted dress, raised my head high, and click clanked in my heels all the way to where my taxi driver friend was picking me up.

It seemed like I was home almost immediately after we reached a resolution, but I wasn’t out of the ARMY just yet. It took about a year before I received my DD 214 confirming my discharge. I know you’re about to say eww TMI–but a little opposition never stopped me from being inappropriate ?. I have to share this because I remember this like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the toilet doing the # 1 & 2…So I guess we can call it #3 ??butt naked when I got the call from a lady in human resources. “Ms. Jean-Pierre, I wanted to inform you that we have drudged through your case and have completed everything in your favor. However, because you are now 18, you can choose to reenlist at your own discretion. I can have you sit with an HONEST recruiter and we can meet some of the terms initially promised. Would you like to rejoin at this moment?” she expressed with not even an ounce of shame or humiliation. “Excuse me?” I asked. She repeated “I asked if you would like to reenlist in the ARMY Natio…” I cut her off right there. “Absolutely not ma’am!” I said with much frustration. “I would just like to put an end to this madness and move forward with my life. Thank you so much. I’ll keep that in mind for later” I said facetiously then I hung up!

So the question you’re dying to know. What kind of discharge did I receive. Well, I’m not going to tell you just yet! There are 2 key components that play a role in each discharge–the “basis” and “characterization of service”. The former addresses the reason for discharge & the latter refers to the quality of the soldier’s military service. Now STOP ✋✋ RIGHT THERE. ERRRT ?‍♀️?‍♀️ before you even get started! I know you’re tempted to think well aww damn, she refused to train, went AWOL, almost performed a sexual favor for the company commander, cursed out the drill sergeants, got demoted, got a recruiter demoted (which is what happened to that fraud of a drill sergeant… he loss 3 ranks ??), etc., it’s fair to assume that her quality of service wasn’t that great lolol. Like I said, STOP IT RIGHT THERE…Look, I can explain! All those actions were provoked because the recruiter took advantage of me as a minor & separated me from my parents! Well that’s at least the argument I made to them & it worked! I was discharged under “Erroneous Enlistment” which in most cases is an honorable discharge. But they played me too and characterized it as “Entry Level Separation”. (I was literally a few days short of the 6 months). So Kay, what does that mean? It means I wasn’t ACTIVE in the military for at least 180 days consecutively so my separation isn’t characterized–which is a good thing too. I’m eligible for a few benefits. And obviously, I could reenlist if I wanted to, but we both know that AIN’T happening EVER!

So where does that leave me? IN AN AWKWARD POSITION! When applying for ANYTHING, I dread the questions: Have you ever served in the Armed Forces or are you a veteran? IDK how to really answer. By definition, my answer to both questions are YES. But I often answer no. Why? What would I say when someone asks me to tell them about my experience? Or how long did you serve–6 months?…How does that sound? EXACTLY! See my dilemma? Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do use my “V” card for discounts, free food, and $7 driver license replacement fees ? but that’s about it. I really hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed sharing it ???‍✈️…Dang, I still can’t believe I went AWOL sometimes lol. Nonetheless, thank you for sharing in my journey battle buddy! 10-4!!!! I ❤ you for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment below.

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


– Ketsia

Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 3C: Military Madness Cont’d Again

Dear Battle,

Let’s take a deep breath! We left off driving away on a Greyhound bus so we’re good right now. And besides, the ARMY staff doesn’t know where I’m heading do they? I was sure not to purchase anything in my name. I mean ANYTHING! That’s why I lied to the lady I bribed to buy my ticket. I was untraceable right? I tried to maintain my cool but all I could really think was…Is this really happening? Did I just go AWOL? Have they notice that I was gone yet? Was this the way to do it—to get their attention? IDK but I bet I certainly have their attention NOW I thought as I sat crouched down in my seat heading to Fort Pierce, Florida.

My aunt knew what time to pick me up because I called her from a stranger’s phone and told her my arrival time. She knew not to contact my parents and not to mention my name PERIOD. My parents were also briefed. I didn’t tell them where I was going or what I was doing exactly because I wanted them to remain innocent. I didn’t want to drag my family into this. I wasn’t sure if they were going to tap their lines or send investigators to our home to look for me. They just knew that I couldn’t be reached for the next month but that I was still safe. You’re probably wondering why I was so discreet huh? We’re talking about the U.S. government here people! I didn’t know what the heck to expect. So I prepared for the absolute worst. Like I said before, I had this all figured out.

“Ketsia, Ketsia! I’m so glad to see you honey,” my aunt yelled in her thick Haitian accent as she made her way towards me. At that moment though, I didn’t respond. I didn’t say anything back. I quickly combed the bus stop to make sure no one was posted up waiting to take me back. When I noticed all was clear, I managed to mumble a “nice to see you too, auntie” as I tried to calm my nerves. She made a noble attempt to “catch up” on our way home, but I quickly quieted her efforts. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I spent months praying on a way out. Only God knows how much I needed this to work.

As soon as we arrived to her house, I jumped out of her SUV and started an inspection. I checked the bottom perimeter of her vehicle to ensure there were no tracking devices. I surveilled the outside of her home and then my inspection continued into the house. I walked around checking every room, every closet, every cubby, until my search was complete. If I had a metal detector I’d probably use that too lol. Yes, I was serious! I ain’t nobody special. I knew there was no way that they were going to allocate much of their resources looking for little ol’ me. I get that. But hey, they just trained me on how to detect bombs and all of that, why wouldn’t my searches be thorough? Everything looks good! Finally I felt at ease. I plopped down on the bed and took a well deserved nap.

As the days progressed, I passed time with childhood friends (I was born here) and made some new ones along the way too. Actually, I made a lasting friend who fell madly in love with me. We linked up 12 years later, but that’s a story for another time. But anyways, I maintained a pretty low profile for the last 28 days. I wasn’t apprehended so everything was going as planned. I even managed to go to my senior prom with a guy I met in Fort Pierce. That was ballsy right? Who misses their senior prom though? NOT I lol. So I took the chance and went! And enjoyed every minute of it. I couldn’t help but think, where the heck was my best friend. I missed her. This was the longest that we had ever been apart. I hoped that she was okay. But life goes on right? Now, I was back in my hometown and I was nervous about tomorrow. Day 29. I had to turn myself back in. I wanted to get into enough trouble to be released from the Guard without being charged with desertion. See basically, being absent without approval day(s) 1-30 was considered AWOL. Days 31 and longer were considered desertion and you could LEGALLY be killed by military personnel. Want to know more? Read up on it ?. I’m not trying to get shot–I just wanted out–ALIVE!

So I’m back on the bus, heading to Columbia. Still praying because I didn’t know what they were going to do to me. The start of night fall, I arrived at the bus stop. I was somewhat relieved to be welcomed by my taxi driver friend. He got me back to Fort Jackson right before chow. I was on a “list” so they had to call my platoon sergeants for permission to enter through the gate so I knew they were expecting me.

Clink clack, clink clack, was the loud noise you heard as I walked closer and closer. I had on heels and a very form fitting dress that accentuated my curves. I stopped at a restroom before I got there, changed clothes and beat my face. If confidence could kill then they all would be dead. Looks too. PERIOD. I saw the way the sergeants looked at me. With great disdain, yet intrigue in their eyes. You know they’re not used to seeing their cadets out of uniform. There was one in particular. I know he wanted me because of the way he used to flirt before I even left basic. Even so, they were so mad, steam was blowing from their ears. I was so scared I was having heart palpitations. But I couldn’t show it. I walked up in there like I own the damn place. And I did! How many people you know go AWOL for a month and come back just like that? NOT MANY! So like I said–I owned the place (for a brief moment).

“Who the BEEP (f-word) do you think you are you little pathetic piece of BEEP (s-word)” the drill sergeant screamed all up in my face. Tell me why the heck I answered “According to the Solider’s Blue Book, you’re not supposed to use profanity towards us”. Like that was going to stop him from using all those expletives! It was worth a try though lol. Now, it was two of them in my face going in trying to incite fear. From past experiences I’ve shared with you, I HATE DOUBLE-TEAMS so I just shut the hell up because I witnessed them throwing a girl in a trash can before (literally) and that was not about to happen–not to me–not today–I was too cute for all that. It wasn’t until one of them spit on me that things got crazy. Like foreal, he harvested his saliva and spat on me! Now it was time for me to go the BEEP (f-word) in!

That pointing finger went up in his face & I started cursing him the BEEP (f-word) out. Man, I mopped the floor with that dude face the way I popped off! I would have fought him if I knew I had even a slim chance of winning. I was escorted by not one, not two, but three other sergeants. They threw me in freaking solitary confinement cause they said I was poisonous to the other soliders going through basic combat training. You damn right I was because I would have had them all go check their damn contracts to make sure they didn’t get screwed over too! Of course they denied me food that night but I was too enraged to eat anyway. Man, I fought sleep as long as I could cause I thought that mother…lover could try to come kill me because I affronted him and make it look like suicide. A few days went by, they kept me secluded and I hadn’t heard a thing. Was I off the hook that easy?

Well, well, well. Hello Monday morning! There’s no better way to start my week than an office visit with the damn Captain. He slapped me with a beautiful Article 15 that cost me about $600 and this mofo demoted me down to a PV 2. Mind you, I shared with you previously that I had JROTC training for years in high school so I enlisted as a PFC E3 (Private First Class). So he dropped me but at least I wasn’t all the way at the bottom of the barrel with all the basic scums even though the demotion also meant less pay. I wonder what happened to that fool of a drill sergeant who spat on me too. I don’t know but it didn’t matter no way because I was getting out one way or the other so BEEP (f-word) him. I was reprimanded for how I reacted with the drill sergeant. But what about the AWOL situation? Did you all forget about that already? Ohh so I’m not being punished for leaving? Y’all not gone kick me out? ? What in the world? All I could think was damn, what’s the fatality rate in Iraq right now cause the ARMY must be real desperate. But hold on–the irony builds!

A few days after that, the Captain calls me back in his office. Ohh ships…what did I do now? Get this. He was a different Captain though. He was black. I think the old one got promoted. So this Captain didn’t know me personally–just what he read in my files and whatever else those other lame drill sergeants mentioned. He sat me down and asked me “What do you really want? Is it to go to your high school graduation”? “Yes, that’s very important to me & my family sir. That’s what I’ve been working towards for the last 3 years.” I said still confused at the direction this conversation was going. “What if I grant you leave for 5 days to go graduate and celebrate with your family, would you like that”? “Huh?” I asked still confused as heck. “I’ll do this for you. But I need you to do something for me in return” my Captain said with a smirk on his face. OMG…Was this Captain–who’s in the freaking armed forces–about to ask for some fellatio in exchange for this act of kindness? ? I know he’s no Commander-in-chief and I’m no Monica Lewinsky, but this military sex scandal could be pretty hot. I could hear him now…I did not have sexual relations…My thoughts were scattered everywhere! “Hello soldier, H-E-L-L-O…” he said leaning forward to get my attention. “Yes sir” I responded trying to gather myself. “What will I need to do in return sir?” I asked in a sexy undertone. Ohhh shhippps things are about to get so real I thought as I leaned forward too.

Wait till you hear what he says next this Sunday! Also look forward to my father making a comeback as well as discussing my official type of discharge & how I made it happen as we close out our Military Madness experience foreal this time ??. Thank you for sharing in my journey battle buddy! I ❤ you for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment below.

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


– Ketsia

A Birthday Celebration For My Mom

Hello Loves,

I am sure many of us feel the same exact way about our mothers as I feel about mine. My mom is an awesome, caring, loving, and God fearing woman with a huge heart (just to some her up in a few words 🙂 )  If it were not for her (and my dad’s) influence on my life, I would not be the person that I am today.  To honor her I have always had in the back of my mind that I would throw her a party some day, especially since I was not able to throw one for my dad before he transitioned to the other side a few years ago.

Read More

Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 3B: Military Madness Continued

Dear Battle Buddy,

Let’s take a second to admire the hot pics above taken in the bathroom on post right after I stole back my suitcase. Don’t worry, you’ll understand this better as you read ??. So grab your canteen of water (or a glass of wine) cause we aren’t taking any breaks! Let’s jump right back into where we left off. I NEED A PLAN!! What am I going to do now? I tried following the chain of command and that only lead to a chain of NO’s. Why are they being so damn insensitive? The recruiter manipulated us but nobody cares! I was feeling so sad and sooo hurt. I was surrounded by all these BDUs (battle dress uniform) but I still felt so lonely. I needed a plan and I needed one quick because we only had 2 weeks left of basic training then I would be shipped off to AIT (advanced individual training) and it’d be like I was starting all over again.

One week went by and I had nothing. I’m down to the last week and I’m getting worried. By this time, I had completed everything necessary to graduate basic except a 5-mile hike. That was the very last drill. I stayed awake many nights just thinking and wondering. I stayed up looking over my contract. Reviewing it day in and day out. I became obsessed with it reading every word; looking for something I probably missed all the other times. Well one night, my effort was not in vain! I discovered something that I hadn’t noticed before. I was holding the consent form in my hand and I notice my father’s signature on there! Holy…SPIRIT!!! I jumped so high; I hit my head on the top bunk. Wait! My father NEVER signed this. He would NEVER sign this! He didn’t agree with my joining. Nor did my mother. They fought me so hard on this. Father God, forgive me because I lied. I told them that they had no say because this was a governmental affair & the consensual laws did not apply in this matter. I said it with so much conviction that they believed me.

Okay, so I told a “little” white lie. But this paper in my hand was a BIG lie! We’re talking about fraud right now! Both signatures were required for a minor to enlist. But at the time, I didn’t know that. I knew that we needed at least one. And the recruiter forced me to provide that one. He told me that if I didn’t sign it, he’d make me regret it. He’s a man of power, authority and influence. I didn’t know what he was capable of doing and I certainly didn’t want to find out! And furthermore, I wanted to join. He made me sign my mother’s name. I was wrong, but I was threatened. I was coerced. But you know what? I didn’t think twice about it so I guess he was making me do something that I wanted too. So now that I revealed how I THOUGHT I GOT ENLISTED, let’s get back to how it really happened. This paper in my hand!

Right after PT (physical training), I went back to speak to my liaison to tell him of this newly acquired information. He was flabbergasted. I was too! He passed this information to the administration above him and an investigation case was opened. Well that’s what they told me at least. But I wasn’t stupid so I refused to train. That’s right, I went on strike! This was a BIG decision that could end badly for me, but I was steadfast and lionhearted about righting this wrong. My best friend on the other hand wasn’t as bold to do so. She was hurt and concerned but not to the extent that she wanted to take action. She felt it was easier to comply. So that drove a wedge between us. We were inseparable for many, many years but it was time now. She went on to finish the hike and I stayed behind.

The drill sergeants treated me like cccrappp because they knew I was more than capable. But I was parked. I felt humiliated during graduation because although my family drove all the way up to Columbia, South Carolina to see me, I wasn’t apart of the ceremony. I told my family about my recruiter’s dishonesties and that I now wanted out. My father of course ceased the opportunity to remind me that I would have never been in this situation had I had listened to his instruction in the first place. “I know Dad, I know. But I will get myself out of this mess. I have a plan,” I said as I rested on my mother’s shoulder.

Basic training was over. Most of the platoons of soldiers were shipped off to AIT. Only the losers were left. The cadets who didn’t complete the training because of illness, disciplinarian issues, and some who failed their PT or other training who had to go through basic ALL OVER AGAIN. I was the ONLY ONE left behind because I refused to finish. But even being left behind wouldn’t deter me. I stayed focus on my end game. Although, I was resting on the hopes of the fraudulent signature to release me, I needed a backup plan. I had been reading up on behavioral actions that could lead to being dismissed and AWOL was one of them. I searched for all the information I could on it because I wanted to make sure I was making an informed move.

So a week has passed by and your girl has been scheming lol. I’ve made several visits to the dentist and medical clinic just so I can acquaint myself with my surroundings. There was a special bus that drove us around the post as well as places off post and I learned all the routes. I caught a couple cab rides and made friends with a driver. If I was going to successfully escape I needed to know how things work. I went to the commissary and started purchasing things I needed to change my look. I also pulled out cash each day that week because I wanted to be stacked before I left. I hid everything in between my big breast and between my legs.

The night before I fled, I was on night duty. I waited till everyone was asleep and I dyed my hair. I bleached some tracks and did my own damn sew-in. I was nervous as flutes, but there’s no turning back now. I tied my hair, went back to my post and waited till daybreak to steal my suitcase. You see one of the female drill sergeants was negligent. She was new. I studied her and saw where she hid the keys. Before daylight, I took the keys and secured my bag. I couldn’t leave the post just yet. I grabbed my things and my cellphone and hid in a soiled porta potty and changed clothes. Before I threw my uniform down the hole, I pulled off my nametag so no one would know I was there. I promise I felt like I was in a movie. My heart was pounding but I was as prepared as I would ever be. Now it was time to put this plan into motion. So I waited quietly until my brigade was set to go to breakfast—then I kicked rocks.

I called my taxi driver friend and told him exactly where to scoop me up. He knew my plan, and he was in on it. I bet he felt like a freaking movie star too with all this adrenaline pumping right now! He was used to escorting soldiers off post so he knew just what to say to the guards to give us the green light at the gate. Holy macrol!!! I was off post and I was on my way to the bus station. I wanted to fly but too risky. They could easily track my whereabouts. So Greyhound it was. Upon arrival, I gave my friend the biggest hug I could from the back of the cab and jumped out. I found a woman who was waiting for her friend to arrive. I was able to convince her to purchase my ticket with a $50 bribe because I had lost my ID. Thankfully, Greyhound didn’t check IDs when loading the bus so I was well on my way!

Where am I heading to you ask? Find out on the next blog post this Wednesday as we close out our Military Madness experience and move on to a new adventure ?. Well as always, thank you for sharing in my journey! I ❤ you so much for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment ❤.

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.




Autumn Reggae Wine Festival

Hello Loves,

I feel like it has been forever since I made a post. Well I am back with a video blog of my experience at the Autumn Reggae Wine Festival I attended this past weekend. Read More

Her Truths To Tell…Chapter 3A: Military Madness

Dear Travel Mate,

How you been? It feel like it’s been a while right? I know, I know—I missed you too! Glad we’re “reunited and it feels so good”! Anyhow, I wanted to change the mood some, because not everything I’ve experienced was all dark and gloomy. I had some surprisingly bold moments too, and today I’ll be sharing one of them. Bear in mind that I will be very cautious with some details because I do not want to incriminate myself in any way. I was young and coerced. Well now that we’re well rested, let’s journey back down memory lane!

One day I was sitting in my economics class senior year, bored as heck. Our teacher tells us that we have a guest speaker today—then a man in uniform walks in. I don’t remember his name, but I do remember him walking in wearing an ARMY uniform, commanding so much respect that he shut the entire room up without saying a word! This was back in 2004, so the United States had already declared war on Afghanistan in 2001 and on Iraq in 2003, so I already knew I wasn’t joining. I enjoyed JROTC and those pickle uniforms we had to wear every Wednesday and all—but hell no!! Why? So they can deploy my black azzz overseas? I’m goody, but I still took a listen to what he had to say.

Needless to say, I was still unaffected, and well, my day went on. Fast-forward a few weeks later. I get into a heated conversation with my father over my first boyfriend. He wasn’t just any boyfriend. He was the one I loved. The one my soul still loves—my forbidden fruit. (You know who you are—and I know that you’re reading this because your support is forever. This post is dedicated to you). Okay, enough mush. Now back to this swindling military story.

My dad was upset that we went out on a date and I got home around 11. He said some pretty ruthless things that I won’t repeat. I refuse to give those words power again. But before your thoughts start dancing crazy, my father didn’t curse me out or anything. He wasn’t like that. He was smarter than that. He attacked my self–worth and doomed any future ambitions I could have. He would attempt to destroy the potential of who I could be before I even was. My father and I had a contentious relationship that only worsened, as I got older. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I needed to get the heck up out of there and I needed to do it FAST! And that’s when the thought of enlisting was conceived. Joining was my way out!

So immediately, I called a couple people and managed to set up a meeting up with the recruiter for my best friend and me. His parle was so sweet—and my situation with my father so sour—that I was ready to join. But it wasn’t just about me. My best friend & I did EVERYTHING together since the 6th grade. So I knew that if I wanted to join the ARMY, I’d have to convince her to join with me first! It didn’t take much persuasion because her parents were strict as hell too, so she was down. And besides, we couldn’t deny the perks (I’ll elaborate on the terms we agreed upon a little later). Now that she was on board, we were ready to move forward!

First thing’s first: We took the ASVAB, which was a test determining qualification for enlistment. We passed that. Then we took a physical test, we aced that too. Then we had to discuss job placement after basic training. Now this was very important because we were still seniors in high school. We finished half a semester early, but needed an MOS (Military Operation Specialties) that would get us certified in time to make it back to walk across the stage in a few months. The recruiter promised us that a 42 Alpha was the shortest MOS training possible, and that it would meet our deadline—so we took it! There were some other physicals and documentation required too, yada, yada, yada.

Signing Day!!! We officially enlisted together December 2004 to the ARMY National Guard. My parents DID NOT APPROVE. And unfortunately, since I was 17, I was not legally of age to make that decision, but it somehow was made—and I somehow was going. We were set to head off to Fort Jackson for basic training in January of 2005. I was a little apprehensive because I didn’t want to be shipped off after basic, but the misery of staying home was greater—so I went! It was crazy. They blindfolded me and drove around for hours. Stopped the bus, shoved me off and started screaming and spitting ALL UP IN MY FACE. I over packed and had to suffer plenty because of this. I had to carry both my oversized suitcases and couldn’t let them touch the floor. I was begging my best friend and other soldiers for help. I couldn’t take it anymore. We were walking a long distance so I was forced to part ways with one my suitcases. New clothes still tagged, perfumes, shoes, curling irons all trashed! I guess I thought I was going to a beauty pageant or vacation maybe, but I was quickly reminded the opposite. I cried, but I chugged on. Anyways, if I get enough requests, I’ll write a post about the actual day-to-day experience that will blow your lid off!

So a couple weeks in, everything is going well. I’m getting acclimated and making friends along the way. I’m glad I was because that’s how I started realizing that there had been a problem. My friends that were promised signing bonuses, received their first half but my best friend and I hadn’t. I looked over my contract for the guaranteed $7,000 and where the bonus line was the number read $0. I brought this to my bff’s attention and we went to speak to our liaison. He reviewed our contracts and there was in-fact NO BONUS. Wowww. Really? Well, that’s when I found out that there was more. My recruiter was nothing but a scamming piece of pie! He was a freaking liar! There was no bonus, no tuition reimbursement for college, and no 42Alpha, which in-turn meant no high school graduation ceremony. Those are just a few things that little snake lied about just to get us to sign. So wait—we signed away the next 6 years of our adolescent lives for jack? For NOTHING? I love my country and all but I damn sure wasn’t about to vow to protect and serve it for diddly-squat!

“I’m sorry this happened to you soldiers. Ill-advisedly, this happens quite often because the recruiters feel so much pressure to keep their enrollment numbers up so they aren’t demoted. They have families. They get desperate so they prey on young students. Unfortunately, there’s nothing that can be done now because you both have signed the agreement”. I asked to speak to someone above him, then above that person and still the same thing—NOTHING! I tried to act crazy but that didn’t get me anything but more overnight duties. These people were merciless and they weren’t willing to release anyone! Well, back to the drawing board because I wanted out! Let’s just say my plan involved me going AWOL (Absent Without Leave) and could have gotten me killed if I was at large past a certain period of time since we were technically at war.

There’s so much more to this story that’s why I have to break into 2 parts!! On Sunday we’ll get into why I decided to go AWOL & how I did. But more importantly, what happened when I came back cause you KNOW I was in a heap of trouble! Not to mention, we’ll also have to discuss how I was even permitted to enlist because I was a minor without parental consent. Still, so much ground to cover. I’m ecstatic though because I get to share with you just how cunning and calculating I can be!

Well as always, thank you for sharing in my journey! I ❤ you so much for reading. To all my survivors out there: KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment ❤.
Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


– Ketsia

Her Truth To Tell… Chapter 2: Dealing With Molestation

Dear Reader,

Well, for one, I won’t be calling you “Reader” anymore. We’re a little more than that now. We’ve been on this journey together for about two weeks so I guess we’re “talking” or if you want me to say it more fancifully–“Nap Koze” lol. Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable just sharing this chapter to a stranger. Its too deep. This experience involves extended family, so it’s also sensitive. I will handle this with much delicacy as to protect those close to me. With that said, put on your backpack travelmate, because it’s time to get back on the road.

So enveryone goes to their aunt & uncles’ house to visit, right? You go over to see them and to play with your cousins. Your parents might need them to watch you & your siblings a few days during the week since schools out. Or maybe, you wanted to spend the night because you wanted to do something–anything besides staying home. Well, that’s why I was over there. I wanted to sleep at my aunt’s house because she was fun. She bought me things. She had a nice job making decent money. A little girl could use some spoiling from time to time. And she gave me just that.

It was a Saturday late morning, and my aunt had to run a few errands, so she left me home with my uncle. (Don’t ask where everyone else was because I don’t recall. My memory is scant. I do; however, know that this took place after the sexual assault by the twins. And besides, I was like 7 and I had buried this for a longtime).

Back to this late Saturday morning. So it’s just us and he calls me into the open den area connected to the house. He puts on some music and makes me start dancing with him. But this dance is pretty close right now. There’s no space between us. I felt something hard pressing on me from down there. Is it weird to say that I knew he liked me? He always flirted with me, especially when my aunt wasn’t nearby. That’s why I hated being around him alone. So we’re dancing and he’s kissing on my neck. That’s when I confirmed in my gut that things weren’t right. He starts licking and sucking on my ear. I was cringing and I pulled away and asked him why he was doing that. He told me it was because I was pretty and he loved me. “You’re so smart and you’re my favorite one.” he told me as he tightly guided my hand down his nasty chest.

He picked me up and sat me right in his lap. That’s when he started touching me. Caressing my thighs so passionately. It was obvious that touching little girls did something to him. It did more than just turn him on. It’s like he was possessed or something. He was on a high. Till this day, I never understood why he needed to prey on little girls. His wife had a phat azzz, large succulent breast and they had a VERY ACTIVE SEX LIFE. I know cause I walked in on them a few times. But maybe that wasn’t enough. Maybe he had an insatiable appetite. I guess that’s why he kept going. Touching my sweet little face, stroking my back, and touching my flat chest. Now he’s back to nibbling on my ear. This time he stuck his nasty wet tongue in my right ear. This visceral reaction is indescribable! Ewwwww!

I felt my stomach turning. This wasn’t right, but I was too scared to speak up, so I went with it. He picked me up facing him. I’m still fully clothed and he’s wearing no shirt. It wasn’t until he started touching my jewel and grinding it vigorously against his manhood, (dry humping or hunching I guess) that i thought ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! “Put me down NOW” I screamed!! This isn’t right! If you don’t stop, I will tell my dad on you. “Why baby” he uttered. “Because I don’t think you should be touching me like this” I responded, “I don’t like this”. “I’m going to call my dad right now”. He put me down and then he sat down again, starring at me, trying to feel me out. This was the first time he’s ever went this far with me and this was the first time I was speaking up against it.

God stepped in at the right time, because He sent my aunt back home! So my uncle had no choice but to stop. Even then, I knew I made a lasting impression because he was convinced that I would go tell my father and he didn’t want those kind of problems! Pedophiles and molesters are sick but never want to be exposed! I know some of you may be dubious of God’s divine intervention. If God was there, why would he even allow this to happen? Is that what you’re thinking? I know. I questioned God about that for a long time too. Why me? I was so young. But the bible tells us that not all evil comes from God. And even when evil is present, God is always there to strengthen us. He promises us that we will overcome. That we will triumph and conquer. That’s why I’m able to write to you now. My strength and boldness is not of myself–I wouldn’t be able to do this alone. Heck NO! But because I have overcome this hurt and evil, I am able to share my truths in hopes of offering encouragement and support to others facing these situations.

How has this effected my childhood? I wanted to be desired by all men growing up. If a man didn’t find me attractive or want me, I was offended. I would be on a mission to change his mind. I was so used to getting all that attention since I was younger, that I felt like I always had to have it or something was wrong with me. Trust me, as I aged, and your girl’s body started developing, I didn’t have to work too hard because it started coming so naturally. I think I started getting concerned when married men & men from all positions in ministry where willing to jeopardize it all just to sleep with me. That’s when I started thinking that I had a curse on me or something. But we’ll explore this “black girl magic” in the future.

This is a good place to stop for today, but let me share this last thing. Honestly, I wish I would have actually told my father because two other little girls that are close to me turned out to be victims too. PARENTS, SIBLINGS, FAMILY MEMBERS: PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TODAY TO TALK TO YOUR CHILDREN ABOUT SEXUAL ABUSE & MOLESTATION. Show them where no one is supposed to touch them. Educate them on physical gestures of affection that are inappropriate like tight hugs pressing private areas together, kissing, licking, sucking, etc. My mother had these talks with me, but I’m sure in some other instances, this can be prevented. If you even need support, I’m here for you and most importantly, God is here for you! Please click on my previous blog for my information on outside support too! http://yesherestherj.com/her-truth-to-tell-part-1/

I ❤ you so much for reading. To all my survivors out there, KEEP ON SURVIVING! PLEASE don’t forget to like, share & leave a comment ❤.

Remember, while we still have life; let us not merely exist–but instead, L.I.V.E.


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