Heavenly Father, I come humbly before you to say thank You for keeping me alive for such a time as this. Please give me the strength to get these painful words out, to hopefully benefit others. Please keep those who have come forward to speak truth to power in your loving arms, protect them & vindicate them. Please see it done in Yeshua’s holy Name. Amen & Amen. Thank You, Father, in advance.
*If anyone noticed, I haven’t written a post in months. The Lord told me to delete all but one [see Mission Statement] of the 224 posts that I had on this blog to WARN people of His coming & to attempt to help people change their evil mindsets. WARNING time ended on July 3, 2018. I will explain why in a separate post because I don’t want the focus to be lost from this post.
I have the same initials as Christine Blasey Ford & I knew I would have to speak up, but the daily “triggers” were making it more difficult. Then Debbie Ramirez came forward with more verification that I would have to speak up. Then I saw that Donald Trump began attacking Ms. Ramirez, probably because she wore a Puerto Rico t-shirt in the photo on her article AND that her last name is RAMIREZ. We all know that he only attacks black & brown women. This SHOULD be a moment when white females everywhere in this shithole nation should see that white males [boys] don’t give a fuck about you either, but WARNING time for that is over also. Why? Because most of you white females either voted for him, enable him & his kind, & are COMPLICIT when NON-WHITE women are victimized by your “beloved” white boys…until it happens to YOU, your relatives, & your fellow white “sisterhood”. I put sisterhood in quotes because you snakes turn on each other in a heartbeat also.
I have been unraveling ever since Donald Trump began running for office in Summer 2015. I imagine women everywhere are being re-victimized by these various men running for political offices. I & another black woman were “sexually harassed” at an event we were catering years ago by the “person” running on Kris Kobach’s ticket here in Kansas & I have to see his name on all the yard signs around here. Yes, there were witnesses, & no, I am not speaking any further on the matter because I need only depend on God’s JUSTICE, which is here NOW.
BECAUSE YOU CANNOT FOLLOW YESHUA [JESUS] IF YOU ARE FOLLOWING DONALD TRUMP, SERIAL VIOLATOR OF WOMEN.
Why are there no laws POLICING MEN’S BODIES, yet [republican] women SUPPORT the policing of women’s bodies. Because once a penis violently breaks ground on the female body, it contaminates. Allow me to explain:
It was Summer 1991 in Wichita, Kansas. I was 15 years old & knew nothing about abortion. Thousands of anti-abortion protesters descended upon my hometown for the “Summer of Mercy”. I grew up in the impoverished “north side” black community, which means I lived mere blocks away from the Planned Parenthood clinic & other “family planning” clinics [because that’s how they were planned, to abort black babies]. I saw thousands of screaming white “people” (& their “children”) with placards of aborted fetuses, folk laying in the roadways, folk setting car bombs & shooting abortion providers, forming human chains to prevent families from entering the various clinics. I even had to confront this violence firsthand upon walking into one of the clinics across the street from Planned Parenthood, with a 13 year old girl who was going in for an abortion. Her mother did her best to help shield us, but to no avail. My question has always been how is it that white females allege to care about “LIFE”, but will attack BLACK CHILDREN at a “family planning clinic”? Why? Because ONLY WHITE LIVES MATTER TO WHITE FOLK. [Fast forward to 2009, when a “PRO-LIFE” cowardly white male drove hours to Wichita to come shoot & kill abortionist Dr. George Tiller while he was sitting in morning worship at “church”. Because “pro-life” obviously means you can pick & choose which lives you are “for”. And I thought “church” was EVERYTHING SACRED to these folk? Yeah. Right.]
Early October 1991: While watching Professor Anita Hill on television I learned about “sexual harassment”. The only other “sex ed” that I had up to that point was the Kotex-branded propaganda film they showed us in 5th grade teaching us how to purchase Kotex products for our “special time”. I listened to creepy, old white guys on the Senate Judiciary Committee salivating over the words “large breasts” & their sleazy way of questioning which did nothing but make themselves look foolish…and now these SAME OLD WHITE BOYS are trying their best to avoid looking foolish again. Too late.
October 31, 1991: We weren’t allowed to “trick-or-treat” because we might “get poisoned”, but we were sent to “church” for a reasonable facsimile of “trick-or-treating”…because “the church” is walking lockstep with “the world”, right? RIGHT. I fell into a sugar-induced sleep, curled up in the fetal position holding my 2-year-old baby brother in his toddler-sized bed. I was in my siblings’ room because my “step-brother” from California was visiting & my room in the basement was given to him for the duration of his stay. I heard the dining room window open, I sat up & saw that it was the “step-brother” crawling through. He forgot his key…again. I went back to sleep. Next thing I know I feel hands scooping me up from bed, one hand covering my mouth & him telling me not to make a sound or he would kill me. He pried my baby brother [his baby brother, also] from my arms & carried me downstairs to my own bed, told me not to make one sound, undressed me, laid his 30-year-old, 220-pound body upon mine & forced his penis into my 15-year-old, 90-pound body. That was the day I died inside. I never remembered the exact date because I did my best not to memorialize it. I had even forgotten that it happened on halloween. It happened several more times during his month-long stay, the same way each time. I was already afraid because I had been bullied my whole school life by white AND black kids, by my “mother” AND my younger sister who both hated me, now I was afraid to go to sleep, the only sweet release from “real life” that I knew. I was afraid to be awake. I was always afraid. I got raped a couple weeks after I learned what “sexual harassment” was.
January 1992: I hadn’t told my “mother” about the rapes, but I was physically ill. I couldn’t tell the police, because I routinely had to “satiate” any cops that came to our house for the random foolishness that happened at our house & the neighborhood. I had been sick at school & this particular day my body could take no more. I passed out once I crossed the threshold at our house. My “mother” rushed me a few blocks to the hospital where I was born. Now that I think about it, this was the first time I had been anywhere with her alone. The hospital needed a urine sample but I couldn’t produce one. I sat there in excruciating pain, drinking cup upon cup of water, still nothing. They said I needed to be catheterized. I laid on a stainless steel gurney with my “mother” & three nurses holding each of my limbs while a tube was inserted deep into my urethra to extract a few drops of urine. I tried to break free & I screamed bloody murder. They still couldn’t figure out what the problem was so they sent us away with no answers, but instructions to go to my primary care doctor to see if they can figure out what is wrong. The next day I went to the doctor alone. I was alone because as long as there was no “emergency” disrupting her immediate space, my “mother” was unconcerned for my physical wellbeing.
Fast forward, I had contracted gonorrhea, chlamydia, & trichomoniasis, which became Pelvic Inflammatory Disease and Endometriosis. That is the difference between “sexual assault” & “rape”. Once a penis enters the body forcefully, the body is contaminated. My “seal” was broken. I told my mother, she called me assorted whores, sluts, & other words that I had only heard her speak about other women that she hated. She & my “step-dad” called the “step-brother” & asked him if he raped me, he said no & that he was in love with me & wanted to marry me. She asked me if I wanted to marry him, I said no, & there I received the permanent scarlet letter: Whore, slut, dick-tease. Yeah, the girl who wore oversized sweats, baggy clothes, no make-up & did everything possible to stay in the shadows, was a “dick-tease”.
May 1994: I was 18-years-old & graduating from high school. I was mostly excited because this would OFFICIALLY be the END of being bullied [WRONG]. The diploma was a close second. My “mother” was in the hospital dying of Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) so she wasn’t at graduation. My “step-dad” came [a few years later I found out he was concurrently “dating” one of my female classmates who graduated that day also & he was “dating” the mother of the friend that I rode to school with everyday]. Everyone I knew planned to go to the graduation party at the school later that night. I had a car then, so I agreed to go to the old neighborhood to pick up a few people. I went in the house, they were playing a game where you had to pitch quarters into a glass. I was unaware that it was a “drinking game”, as I was very naïve & had never been allowed to go to house parties or any parties, for that matter. I won several pitches in a row until someone began moving the glass around when it was my turn. Next thing I knew I had lost twice & had to take a shot of vodka each time. When I opened my eyes again it was daylight, I was laying in a strange bunkbed & a boy was staring at me. I looked down & saw I was partially undressed. He said he didn’t get a “turn” because I passed out. “A turn doing what?” I asked. He began to approach me with that sleazy look guys make, so I took off running, out of the house & he chased me over to the backyard of my old house & I hid in the shed. I somehow got back over to the house where I awoke, got my car keys & went home.
Summer 1994: I learned that I had a “train” ran on me at a local park on graduation night by boys from high school that I had known since I was 11 years old. The same boys who had girls streaming out of their house in the morning before school with alcohol & drugs on their breath. The same boys who thrusted their penises in girls’ faces on the school bus. The same boys who sold drugs at school. The same boys who sat in the main hallway harassing girls about their bodies & clothing. The same boys I had been politely fending off of me.
My “mother” told me that I would not be attending college in the Fall [even though I had scholarships awaiting me at a couple colleges out of state]. She said this to me: “You aren’t going to college, you are going to stay right here & live your life on your back.” She then told me that aside from half of the rent & bills that I was paying her, her meds were about $500 per month & that I needed to get an additional “real job” so I could kick in on the meds. My hardware store job wasn’t cutting it. By “real job”, she meant stripping. She had done it herself, I had heard all the stories. She was a beautiful, tall, statuesque woman who was a wonderful dancer. I was a short, baby-faced girl that everybody wanted to give a sandwich to because I looked painfully thin, and I had no dance skills or rhythm. So I got hired at the only strip club in the city limits [at the time], which doubled as a biker bar. A white girl showed me the ropes, taught me to dance [white-girl-style] & I became the [questionably-raced] “exotic” brown-skinned girl at the strip club. We danced to songs on a jukebox. At first I didn’t get to pick my own songs, so my first dance was “Don’t Stop Believin'” by Journey. I wasn’t familiar with any of this kind of music, but I was good at mimicking the basic white girl dance moves (which consisted of strutting around the stage in heels, swinging my waist-length hair, & sliding down the pole). I am probably the ONLY black woman in history who can say that a white girl taught me how to dance. And which is also why I don’t generally dance, I didn’t inherit my mother’s “good dancer” black genes. I inherited my white “father’s” non-dancing genes, her words not mine. I was able to campaign for a couple “black” CD’s on the jukebox, this is what they chose: Sir Mix-a-lot’s “Baby Got Back”, Janet Jackson’s “Anytime, Anyplace”, and Prince’s “Purple Rain”. At first when those songs came on, white guys would get up & leave. Sometimes the bar would empty. That changed when I danced. Fast forward, I was making more money than the white girls & now they were trying to accuse me of stealing their outfits. I never bought from the lady who came in selling outfits, because who can’t sew some Spandex & sequins on a bikini? I told them that I made some of my own outfits & the rest I got from my mother’s dancing days. The white male bar owner even knew my mother from back then, but no one spoke up on my behalf.
November 1994: I received a personal phone call at “work”, it was my mother. She was in the hospital, I told her I would come after my shift was over at 2am. I went up to the hospital where I was born, she asked my forgiveness for “hurting” me my whole life [non-specific non-apology] & asked me to go in half with her on an apartment because my “step-dad” was cheating on her. I forgave her, but said no to the apartment. She said the doctors are forcing her to go to a nursing home & that she didn’t want to be a 37-year-old in a nursing home because no one would come visit her. I told her that her “husband” & her children [by that I meant everyone but me] will visit, the nursing home was 6 blocks down the street from the house. I stood my ground. She asked me to spend the night in her hospital room, I didn’t want to but for some reason I did. I was homeless at the time, I was staying in a camper with no running water or electricity in a biker’s mom’s driveway in a poor white neighborhood, & I STILL didn’t want to stay with her.
A couple days later I received another personal phone call at “work”. “Your mother is dead at the nursing home.” I cried & danced. Cried & danced, cried & danced. Then I quit at some point later. I helped plan her funeral, tried to move forward with my life.
January 1995: I was 19 years old, my then-boyfriend notified me that he was at the pharmacy when he heard that I was the town slut. I asked what he meant. He said that a guy I went to school with told him that “everybody else got a turn” on graduation night, except him & that I ran away from him when he tried the next morning. He told my then-boyfriend that I had a “train” ran on me [gang-raped] by the neighborhood boys at a local park & that it was on videotape. He told me that he saw said tape. Even said some of them were his “boys”. I asked who, he wouldn’t tell me. I asked to see the tape, I never did.
To this day I still don’t know if there was a tape or not, but it “feels” like everyone in town has seen the tape except me, even though that was 24 years ago. I say “feels like” because that is how I feel. I still vacillate between fear & faith. Fear that I’ll be “found out”, that I’m “that girl”, the “town slut”, a regular Mary Magdalene. From that point on, I embarrassed him so much that he wouldn’t take me anywhere in public. Then the beatings, the waterboarding, the open-wound bleach & saltwater bath. I was shot at, beaten up. Everyone I knew ridiculed me, people would even spit on me. I heard that there were other girls, but I wasn’t sure, still not sure.
1998: I was 22 years old & I got baptized. There was no training as to what to do with your life after baptism other than, you can’t keep “dating” men, you need to get married. By then I was dating a guy from high school & everyone at church was pressuring us to get married. He had already married & divorced a girl from high school, so he wasn’t thinking about marriage & I just wanted to be a “good Christian girl”. Shortly after I got baptized he said, “You know how you are supposed to forgive people who have hurt you, now that you have gotten baptized?” I said yes. He said, “I was one of the guys from the park on graduation night. We all fucked you with our dicks AND our fully loaded handguns.” I asked who else was there, he said he couldn’t BETRAY his boys. I forgave him & tried to move forward. Forward into chaos.
2001: I was 25 years old, realized that no matter how many times I try to attend college, finances always got in the way [and I really don’t enjoy being in crowds of people], so I quit school…again. I was dating a new man in a new state, away from the stench of Wichita. His family & other “church people” were pressuring us to get married. He was a post-college frat boy with a teaching job. I married a person who grew up in Catholic school, had his FIRST threesome at age 11, joined a Greek fraternity [I refer to them as GANGS, because you get hazed “jumped in” either way]. All of his close friends were of the same ilk. I was expected to fall in line with Greek orgy-like behavior, which NONE of them were ashamed of. I lived in constant shame. He & a girl I attended college with had a baby together during our “marriage”. I had been diagnosed as infertile. This is where I learned that, yes, husbands can rape wives.
Summer 2005: I was being dropped off at a women’s shelter each morning on his way to work, then he would pick me up in the evenings to [sexually] pay off my “debt” that I owed him until the day that a girl at the shelter told me that since I had no family or friends, they could put me on a bus & send me home. I humbly asked for a bus ticket back to Kansas. I rode a Greyhound bus for 2 days. Moved in with my great-aunt, got 2 jobs & back into “regular” life.
Ever since then I have been hearing bits & pieces about my life, my dead family members’ lives, & every other horrible thing. If it weren’t for my walk with the Lord, I would have been dead several times over. I am 42 years old & I am usually afraid to leave the house. I actually married a decent man 4 years ago, but everyday I wake up Groundhog Day-style to the same fears everyday. Whenever I have sex, I have flashbacks & can smell the same fragrances as times when I have been violated. He travels for work, which leaves me here in Wichita alone with my dogs & no other family, in the place I was born, terrified to leave the house because of what happened to me in high school. So, to those who think that what one does in high school doesn’t/shouldn’t matter, I AM A SURVIVOR OF GANG-RAPE BY PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL BOYS and they are still walking free, enjoying their lives. How do I know this? Because on any given day that I can muster up the courage to leave the house, I see one of those rapists &/or their family members & friends. Folk who were/are COMPLICIT. Whenever I give my “testimony” to someone that I was gang-raped in a park on graduation night, & it was a generational curse because it happened to my “mother” also, while she was pregnant with me she was GANG-RAPED BY CATHOLIC SCHOOL BOYS. This is the response I get: “Everybody knows that’s what happens on graduation night.” SO THE ENTIRE TOWN IS COMPLICIT?!! Yes. Good ol’ “MIDWESTERN VALUES”.
God’s Word says that if we love our lives we shall lose them. Well, I have hated my life & with this letter I am handing that life over to Him. I’m tired of carrying it. As for my initials C.B.F., here’s what the Lord just showed me in full:
The “C” for my name is the Biblical title for “Queen”.
The “B” for my [slaveholder-given] maiden name means “Stronghold”, which I am shedding with this letter.
The “F” in my [slaveholder-given] married name means “Fist”. Because I’m not going down without a fight. And now the Lord fights my battles for me.
My blog moniker is “Queen Esther” because I have sought the Lord on behalf of my people. He answers my prayers because I have found favor in his eyes. Esther was a woman who was a Hebrew & no one knew her heritage until she spoke up. I’ve spoken up now, Father God, please take it from here.
This nation is under judgment. “The church” [Catholic AND Protestant] is under judgment. The “church” is nothing more than a money-making organization that cultivates & harbors child sex offenders & adult sex offenders as long as the tithe checks clear. From the “priests/preachers” on down. Don’t let your “church” convince you that “revival” is coming, they just want YOU to keep bringing your CHECKBOOK. The only REVIVAL that is coming is Yeshua. Repent before it’s too late.
Because AMERICA is today’s Sodom & Gomorrah.
14 And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet.
15 Verily I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment, than for that city.
16 Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, & harmless as doves.
17 But beware of men: for they will deliver you up to the councils, & they will scourge you in their synagogues;
18 And ye shall be brought before governors & kings for my sake, for a testimony against them & the Gentiles.
19 But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye will speak: for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak.
20 For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you.
21 And the brother shall deliver up the brother to death, and the father the child: and the children shall rise up against their parents, and cause them to be put to death.
22 And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake: but he that endureth to the end shall be saved.
To any & all SURVIVORS: Endure to the end.
In Yeshua’s holy Name, Amen.