I’ve recently realized that this happens because, generally, anger is an emotion that people are really uncomfortable with. It's something that they want to control rather than address. After always hearing that same tagline every time I expressed my thoughts or concerns, I honestly started to believe I was actually angry. I would become distant with friends and family because I thought I was a negative energy. I started to not like the outgoing, vociferous person I was. It was just that I always thought I should be in better control, because I wanted people to respect me and I didn't want my anger to cause people to not be able to hear the things that I was trying to say.

The biggest confusion was while going back and forth in my head, fighting between the person I know I am but the person I’m being labeled as, I personally could never see that angry woman. I had never met her. And it took me a while to realize that I’m not angry, I just have an opinion! I have a voice and an option! I can’t let anyone label me for what they don’t understand!

I am a smart, kind, progressive black woman, and there is NOTHING angry about that! If I could say one thing to anyone who has ever labeled someone as an angry black woman, I want you to think about the energy that comes from her anger not as something to be managed, but as a superpower to be used!”

— Chantel Craig, 23, Flight Attendant

“I used to believe my only purpose was to be attractive.

It sounds very vain, I know. The pressure society puts on women to conform to this false, ideal beauty standard is outrageous. We are taught that we must, look, speak, and act a certain way in order to be desired by men. Although I am losing weight now, it hasn’t necessarily been the goal. This is just what I truly enjoy.

I discovered the truth in a harsh way. I was brainwashed, I’ll admit that. I had done everything society had asked of me and was still undesirable by the people who, at the time, mattered most to me. That’s when I realized, it wasn’t me. It never was. I’ve always been fine just the way I am.

I am a young woman, but a woman with a multitude of experiences, nonetheless. I come from a lower-class family, and I grew up with the bare minimum for most of my life. I have worked for absolutely everything that I own, and I take great pride in that.

I have plans to become a makeup artist and tour the world. I define success in many ways. However, being able to give unto others comfortably is one of my biggest motivations.”

— Sara Victoria Nava, 21, Catering Coordinator

“Something that I perceived as a flaw growing up was having an introverted personality. I would purposely distance myself and avoid everyone instead of talking and joining into conversations.

I was always thought of as the quiet one, a wallflower, and sometimes even weird. I never understood myself while growing up and almost believed that being introverted was my personal weakness.

I now think of my introverted personality type as a strength/advantage to me in many ways. I would say it forced me to become independent at an early age. I do not follow in the footsteps of others and because of this, it has greatly impacted my personal and professional life.

Being introverted has also allowed me to have true and genuine friendships. I am able to deeply connect with others who are similar and build strong bonds.”

— Anida Viravong, 23, Director of Business Development

“After having my son and subsequently deciding that the best decision for our family was for me to stay home with him, I believed for a while that I wasn’t as much of a feminist as I once was.

I thought that since I didn’t have a career I was actively pursuing and chose to do something not highly valued in our society, that the work I was doing wasn’t valuable and, therefore, that I was not valuable. There was no marked event of significance that stands out to me as a time when I discovered the truth. I still grapple with this on low days and have to remind myself that raising the next generation is a valid contribution.

Feminism and motherhood can go hand-in-hand and don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I’ll be making my contribution (for now) by raising a thoughtful, kind child and cheering on my fellow women. It takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round, and we are certainly all stronger together.” 

— Destiny Brinkman, 26, Photographer & Stay-at-home Mom

“Ever since I can remember I’ve always been a very emotionally sensitive person. I used to think it was a problem because I would literally cry over situations that didn’t affect me in any way.

Now that I’m older and pay more attention to what’s going on around the world, I feel extremely blessed to be so empathetic. I feel like it really helps me to be aware of my privilege and helps me to understand other’s points of view. 

If there’s one thing that I would change about the world, it would be people’s desire for power. I wish it would just disappear. The majority of our country’s and world’s problems could be solved (or never even exist in the first place) if people didn’t have the desire to be more powerful than others.

Men wouldn’t feel the need to abuse women to feel more powerful. White people never would have felt the need to imprison POC to show their power over them. There would be no ridiculous wage gap or “one percenters”. Hitler never would have caused so much damage and North Korea would be living in harmony with the rest of the world. Without the desire for power, there would be peace.”

— Jennifer Kristine Burton, 28, Collision Center Office Manager 

I started to believe my womanhood was only to be validated by what I would do for a man. Or rather, what parts of myself I was willing to sacrifice. I learned then, thankfully early, that I’m not willing. There really wasn’t a grand revelation where a lightbulb came on and it was a lesson learned. It wasn’t uncomfortable or hard. It was one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done.

I stopped one day because I could. I just happened to be lucky enough to be born during a time when I could and can look around to find some of the most inspiring women history has ever produced; when my independence is applauded; when women require more from a man than simply existing. I have the privilege now, that countless women didn’t, to be more than what a man says I should be.”

— Tabitha Williams, 26, Wife & Stay-at-Home Mom

“Multiple times I have felt the need to leave a relationship for my own freedom and dignity. I’m quicker to do so now after a boyfriend attempted to murder me in December of 2014.

As a young woman, I was fat shamed relentlessly and it shattered what little self-esteem I may have built up in those crucial teenage years. All the domestic violence I witnessed as a child and suffered in my early twenties were tainted by the belief that women can’t make it on their own, or the old ‘You made your bed, now lie in it. Marriage is forever’ bullshit. No wonder I moved 3 states away from all of it…

The biggest lie I ever believed was that I needed a man to take care of me. I married quite young at 17 and, no surprise, divorced around 20. The decision to divorce was my final straw. My signal to the world and my family that I wasn’t playing by their outdated rules anymore.

I certainly found my own mind, doing odd jobs, webcam modeling, phone sex, and now exotic dancing to support myself and my career. You’d think I’d be embarrassed or ashamed to admit those things, but it’s actually so liberating and I feel empowered by my body. It’s taken me farther than any man ever could. No wonder society has been stifling women’s sexuality for so long. It’s potent.

I feel like I came from nothing, or better yet, was born into a pit that I had to climb out of before I could actually start living.

I’ve traveled through life covered in dirt and scars and I have to listen to clean, un-battered people—born on open plains with clean air—pass judgment on me; tell me how hard they have it or how easy it is to succeed. People don’t always see my dirt for what it is. They remark at how mature I am, how I’m level-headed and calm under stress, but especially how independent and resourceful I am.

My dirt makes me capable of anything and I’m not washing it off anytime soon.”

— Delora Von Hoeft, 25, Writer & Exotic Dancer

“I think one of my biggest conceptions in life was my identity in my blackness.

Growing up in predominantly black neighborhoods and school systems in Birmingham, I didn’t always fit in and agree with what my peers were into. I didn’t play many sports or do social activities, and I definitely had absolutely none of the coolest clothes or shoes. Most of my time was spent doing crafts or reading. Quite frankly, I was lame compared to my peers.

But as I grew older, the labels shifted. As a teen, though I was into hip hop and dances and everything the black kids around me liked, I also liked rock and pop. I still loved to read and write and that jumpstarted me into an extreme interest in literature. I liked Twilight and Kingdom Hearts. I liked poetry and theatre and ballet. To my peers, not only was I lame, I acted ‘white’. All of a sudden, my blackness and culture were on the line.

I felt like I wasn’t allowed in black spaces. I couldn’t listen to Green Day AND Boosie. I couldn’t wanna wear a pair of Jordans AND Converse. I couldn’t enjoy reading Their Eyes Were Watching God and Danielle Steel novels. It felt like I had to choose a side. And for the longest, after being forced into learning about such a tragic history for Black people year after year and my peers being black people who made you choose a side, I didn’t want anything to do with my blackness.

I embraced my differences, and I subtly thought that disowning my blackness was the right thing to do. When college time came around, I turned a blind eye to HBCUs; I didn’t wanna go into another four years of isolation and tragedy. I chose a PWI. This school looked like the exact answer to my prayers; a place where I was different and that was okay.

I gained friends from all walks of life and was received on the surface as equal to everyone around me. But in the same breath, I gained more knowledge and perspective about the world around me. I was a small fish in a big pond, and everyone couldn’t swim downstream.

I noticed the micro-aggressions and stares from my white colleagues. I could see through the tight-lipped smiles and awkward silence whenever my blackness showed too much. I learned that no matter the differences on the inside, no matter the side of the tracks, being black was all that some people saw. It was then that I learned that my interests and perspectives could coexist. I’m black, and nothing can lessen or suppress that.”

— Taylor Collier, 25, DHR Financial Support Worker 

“I met him when I was 17 and in a long-term relationship.

This dude was an older coworker of my mother’s that decided he liked me. He showered my family with gifts, brought us food when we didn't have money to eat and was a big support for my younger sisters and me. But as soon as I turned 18, he wouldn't stop trying to convince me to date him.

He developed relationships with my younger sisters so they would depend on him and like him, too. I ended up leaving town for a couple of years, but the pattern continued. When I moved back at 20, he helped me get a second job and helped me get a down payment on a car…but he constantly said things like ‘Good guys never get the girl’ and ‘Maybe if I started being a douchebag, I could date you’.

Eventually, my thought process was ‘I'm lonely, so maybe if I start being romantic with him, I'll grow to like him’. Instead of using my saved-up money to rent a house, I moved in with him. It lasted less than 4 months…I tried bringing up the fact I wasn't happy multiple times, just to get, ‘I love you, and I've taken care of you and your family, so you should love me too’.

I have seen a lot of abuse in relationships, but this one still makes my skin crawl. After we broke up, he started becoming really close to my sister—whom he is 10 years older than—while she was still in high school. He took her out to a party for her 18th birthday and encouraged her to drop out of school. She moved in with him as ‘roommates’ and now she is 21, they have been officially dating for over a year and she has no means to be independent. And they have a two-month-old baby.

He didn’t offer her any support during the pregnancy and barely took care of her when she was in the hospital having her baby, like, 5 months early. I can actually see how he groomed my sister as a child to be completely dependent on him and know that he guilts her and doesn't show her love because ‘she needs to love herself first’. He destroys her self-esteem so she won't leave. It is disgusting.

I've since started calling out toxic behavior because I saved myself, but I couldn't save my sister.”

— Jordan Padgett, 25, Animal Care Professional

I felt inadequate because I wasn’t black enough to be black.

I went to a predominantly black and Latino school in high school. Because I was light-skinned, everyone assumed that I was mixed. Both of my parents were black. However, every single day I had to prove to my own people that I was one of them. But of course I wasn’t, because I came from the middle class. I wasn’t hood enough. I actually wanted to learn and see the world, so they said I was being white.

It’s crazy to hear that now, because white people will tell me in a second that I’m the farthest to being one of them. So not only do I feel like I don’t fit in my own family, religion, or gender, but I also feel inadequate within my own race. Which leads me to talk about my career field.

I work in a field where your talent and what you look like are everything. You either have to be everything they want when they see you or you don’t get the job. Probably not the best career choice for someone who consistently feels inadequate, but I love it.

Every time I go to an audition, it’s hard not to compare myself to other singers, dancers, performers. Some of them have been singing and dancing since they were in diapers, some were provided with the financial ability to get all the top-notch training, and some are just prodigies. How do I compete with that? Especially since we live in a world where everyone wants to act, sing, dance, rap, or model. I didn’t even know who Sondheim was until my freshman year of college. The bar keeps getting higher and higher.

It doesn’t help that when I come home I get comments on my physical appearance, whether it’s weight gain, or my acne scars, or the way I dress. I have yet to find a place where I feel like I am adequate. So, I feel inadequate because going into the real world, I don’t have the knowledge, confidence, self-esteem, or any inkling of who the fuck I am or who I am supposed to be. At this point, it’s been so ingrained that even if I was with the perfect person, or if I had the perfect environment for me, I would still feel like I was inadequate in some way.”

— Kendra Nicole Johnson, 24, Artist/Performer/Independent Contractor

“At around 15 years old, I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol. It started out seemingly innocent, but progressively began to take over my life. I was using drugs and alcohol to escape my depression and anxiety, which had plagued me from a surprisingly young age due to a troubled childhood. I’m talking as young as 10 to 13 years old.

At 21 I was able to break free of that soul-sucking monster we call depression, almost miraculously. As far as where I am now and where I’m heading, I am currently making a living as a dancer and plan to become a Certified Nurse Midwife. I am proud of myself, at last.”

— Carson Thweatt, 25, Full-Time Stripper

“If I could change the world in one significant way, it would be to empower women. I want to make sure that women know their strength, power and worth, and never forget it. We are powerful individually, but a mighty unstoppable force together.

Often times we are pinned against each other to compete unknowingly. There really is enough whatever to go around. I was created to inspire other women to be authentic, to believe in themselves and what we can actually accomplish. I want women to know we have to be empowered, to have a vision for ourselves first. Then we can help others. ”

— LaToya ‘Toy’ Thomas, 39, Real Estate Advisor

“If I could change the world in one significant way, I would change how we see each other. I would do away with this rampant mentality that we’re all groups of faceless, nameless people, categorized by whatever the viewer decides. Every single person you judge, every single group of people you judge—they are all individual people with stories and feelings and hardships.

That’s why this project is so beautiful. We’re all just people, trying to find love and safety and connection. It baffles me that people can take the humanity out of entire groups of people. That isn’t anyone’s to steal.”

— Madison Griggs, 24, Copywriter

**Trigger Warning: The following two stories describe, in detail, instances of sexual assault.

The encounter was not just once. I had been in a relationship with this boy for a year and he would tell me that if I loved him, I would let him have sex with me and do what he wanted to me…I felt like I owed him sex. He convinced me that I owed it to him if I truly loved him.

He was very controlling and would not allow me to talk to other guys, even if it was for group projects, or even to be close with male family members. I was 16 to 17 when we dated and felt like I was not sure who I was. I was still very young and trying to figure out who I was as a person. I was afraid that if I didn’t bend to his demands, he would break up with me. I never wanted to have sex before marriage, and I felt like I had to be with him and only him. That was my feeling of losing my self-respect and freedom.

At the time, I did not realize how wrong this was. No one told me that his actions were wrong. Not until we broke up and I went to return all of the items he had left at my house, per his request. He held me down, pulled my shorts to the side and raped me in his driveway. It took me three months to open up to my dad about it, and he attempted to press charges. The case was dismissed in court due to lack of evidence, and because I waited so long to tell anyone, I was told that I was being a jealous ex-girlfriend…

After we broke up and after I reported him, I felt as though I lost my dignity. In the following months at school, I was slut shamed and bullied. I was called a liar, crazy, and a slut. Girls didn’t want to be my friend because they saw me as a slut. Guys didn’t want to talk to me or be romantically involved with me because they thought I was crazy and didn’t want to risk having a “false rape charge” against them. The constant bullying and slut shaming at school made me feel so small. I can remember coming home and crying to my dad that I wanted to drop out because I didn’t want to face those kids anymore.

My dad convinced me to keep going and to keep pushing to finish. I stayed to myself to save myself from all the hateful comments and finished high school, went to junior college and got my first degree. I felt that by furthering my education, I would gain back my freedom, dignity, and self-respect.

But that encounter was why I never reported any of the following rapes that happened.

There was one time when I was on a company beach trip during my 19th birthday. An older man that worked with my mom—he was in his mid-40s at that time—slipped something into a virgin strawberry daiquiri he made for me. I remember nothing from that night. I was terrified to tell anyone. I was not sure if he did rape me or not. I later found out he was bragging about having sex with me, and that confirmed my fears that he did, indeed, rape me.

 The last rape, which left me traumatized, was in the summer of 2017. I had just gotten out of a serious relationship and the guy I was dating and lived with would not let me get my belongings out of his house. I asked a friend that was a Shelby County Sheriff’s Deputy for help and advice. He invited me over to his house to talk about it. We talked and he offered to put on a movie or whatever. It was cool, I went along with it. We kissed and he went to make a move for more. I told him I was not ready for that, and he picked me up and took me to his bed and continued to pull my clothes off despite my begging him to stop. He got his way.

When he finished, I put my clothes back on and left with tears in my eyes. How could I report him? He was a cop! I drove home with tears in my eyes and blocked him on every platform I could find him on. I was terrified and traumatized. I never reported it.”

— Karmin Christine Ozley, 29, Hospital Coordinator for newborn hearing screens

“I was only 14 years old when I was raped. It feels weird writing about it, since I have never told anyone about it except for my wife.

I’m a writer as well and I’ve never wrote a poem about it. I’ve always felt ashamed of it. I wore it as a secret that I swore to myself to take to my grave. There I was, 2 years after losing my mother, just maybe a couple of hundred feet away from her bedroom where she died, when the guy I ‘liked’ forced himself on me. I still remember trying to decipher if this was something I consented to or not.

I remember saying ‘no’ as he forcibly kissed me. Remember screaming ‘no’ when he punched me & kneed me in my stomach to make me fall. It’s so clear, me crying, as he dragged me to my bedroom, pulled down my shorts & panties and forced himself inside of me. I can still taste the mixture of salt from my tears & copper from the blood from him hitting me in my face telling me to shut up and just take it. He reminded me that I “wanted this”. He yelled, ‘Didn’t you ask for this?’.

‘Is this not why I invited him over while my father was at work?’, I thought.

After a few seconds, I just lay there and thought about dying. I imagined killing him & then myself. I lay there & prayed to a God that never heard me. I prayed that my daddy would come home early from work & find this monster violating his baby girl. But like so many rapes, that never happened.

No one saved me. I was raped and from that moment on, I was changed. When he was done, he sat next to me and apologized, asking me why I was crying. At the time, I said nothing back; just laid there in the fetal position and cried. I can’t quite remember at what point he got up and left, I just eventually realized he was gone. It took me a few minutes to get up and go lock the front door; to look out of the window to make sure he was gone. After that, I finally gathered the strength to go take a bath, knowing that I shouldn’t but feeling too ashamed, too scared not to. Wanting, no needing, to wash him off me; out of me.

What would my daddy think of me? Yes, I thought about calling 911 and calling my dad or my sister, but I never did. Something in me just wanted to keep it silent; wanted to forget. I thought I could bury this memory deep in my mind, and so I tried. I felt so powerless in the moment and the years following. I felt stupid that I didn’t say anything, that I didn’t tell anyone.

Well, now fast forward 18 years later, and although the memories are still extremely vivid, I don’t see myself anymore as weak or helpless.

What I went through, and what millions of other women have been through, shouldn’t be carried around as a scar, but more so, a war wound. A reminder that I’m not a victim, but a survivor. I survived my rape, and although it still haunts me, it doesn’t define me. What I want to do now with my not-so-secret secret is help empower other females that have been sexually assaulted. Let them know that they are not alone, although they feel lonely and scared. If just one female can listen to my story and it helps her, then I’ve made it one step further in healing. At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about, right? Healing.”

— LaShydra ‘Shy’ Stallworth, 32, Medical Collector

*Note: Eighty-five percent of all domestic violence victims are female. More than 1 in 3 women in America report having experienced rape, but that number may not be truly representative of rape cases in the United States considering out of every 1,000 rapes, only 230 are reported to police. Therefore, 3 out of 4 rapes go unreported.

“Growing up, I was always told that I was ‘pretty for a dark-skinned girl’, which in turn made me believe that all dark-skinned people were perceived as less than on the scale of attractiveness.

I never understood why I couldn’t just be viewed as ‘pretty’, or why my dark skin was not viewed the same as someone of a lighter complexion. I began to think of my skin as a flaw because of this. It took me a while to realize that it was not my skin that was a flaw, but it was the thinking pattern of those who felt as though darker skin was less than that was the real flaw.

I had to realize that God makes no mistakes and that he created me in his image and nothing about me is ugly. My skin is what makes me. It is a part of my history, who I am, and what I will create (future kids). I shall take pride and flaunt my melanin and I will no longer hide behind false misconceptions of other people’s opinions. Plus, true beauty starts from the inside. As Beyoncé stated in her song Brown Skin Girl, ‘There are complexities in complexion’. I truly believe this.

I not only adore darker skin tones now, but I appreciate the beauty in everything and everyone. My skin is my story and my strength.”

— Kailah Hughley, 24, Health Information Data Analyst

“I came out when I was fifteen years old at a redneck school while living in the Bible Belt.

My family was a true blue, southern Baptist family. My mom hated it so she started to get abusive. I got bullied and beat up at school, not just by my classmates but by the teaching staff as well. [I remember] being told by my family and other people that God does not love me because I'm gay. That I'm going to hell and that I am choosing to be like this…it was very hard on me.

They would also say that because ‘the devil is inside you’, I would never be loved, I would never find happiness and I would NEVER have a family. I believed that. Being a Christian myself, all this did was cause me to pull away from God. I got bad into all types of drugs and closed up from everyone I knew loved me. I messed up relationships if they wanted to get close.

I thought I would die alone and never get to experience being a mother. I started cutting and doing drugs to numb my life. It did not matter if I had people in my life who did love me. Negative vibes are easier to pick up than positive ones. Then at about 24, I started to get my life together. I got cleaned and started getting an ‘I don’t care what you say’ attitude. A few years later, I found a church and got back with God.

Fast forward to now and I have a beautiful daughter and three awesome stepkids with a wife that loves me. Now at 35, I know who I am. I'm an incredible Ima (which means mother in Hebrew) who loves her kids, wife and God. I had to open my eyes and my heart to realize that for all those years, I was hurting myself because people told me I was this evil monster when I'm not. I had to believe in myself and be the person I know God wants me to be. I tell my kids all the time there are three things they will learn in my house...GOD, LOVE & RESPECT.”

— Heather Adams, 35, Sales/Retail

“Yes, there was a time when I had to choose between my dignity, self-respect, and freedom, and a relationship. It was not only for me, but for my children as well. That was during the time that I chose to end my marriage to my children’s father.

I won’t go into the details of all that happened during that time, but just know that after overlooking issue after issue, many times over, at some point a limit will be reached. When you are constantly degraded and betrayed by a man who promised to cherish you for the rest of your life, not only in private, but in the presence of others, there is only so much one would take.  Like I said, it was not only me, but my children were in this dysfunction, as well.

It came to the point of choosing freedom, dignity, and self-respect for my children and me, or trying to stay in a loveless, verbally abusive marriage just to say ‘I’m married and my kids are living with both parents.’  Which do you think won out?

Once a woman reaches her limit, there is no turning back.  As the song goes, ‘When a woman’s fed up, ain’t nothing you can do about it.’”

— Kimberly Williams, 49, Risk Adjustment Representative & Author

“Growing up, I felt that my biggest flaw was my name. My first name, E’vondrua, was given to me to honor my grandmother and act as somewhat of a derivative of her name, Eva. As a child, and even through many of my teenage years, I wished my name was something simpler or more common.

Growing up, I would constantly hear “How do you say your name?”, “Are you from another country?”, or my favorite “Can I call you something else? That’s too hard to remember.” I got sick of it. When I started college at UAB back in 2014, ‘Von’ was finally born.

Von is the girl I always wanted to be. It was always a nickname of mine, but I started to introduce myself as her, sign paperwork as her and anything else that E’vondrua would normally do. Von did not have to convince anyone that she was born in AMERICA to AMERICAN parents, or that my name doesn’t have any profound meaning to make others ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at me. But it was not until recently that I realized I had been that girl all along.

I was born to be unique and my identity is indeed profound. All of the effort I put into being Von could have also been given to E’vondrua. It took me too long to realize that they are the same and deserve the same love from me, even if others can’t understand.

My name makes me who I am. I may not have been the person I am today if I were a Brittany, Ashley, or Tiffany. Don’t get me wrong ladies, I don’t mean that offensively whatsoever, but I’ve just spent too much time wishing I was you.

I am still perfectly fine with people calling me Von, but I am FINALLY ecstatic about being E’vondrua!”

— E’vondrua A. Harvey, 24, Union State Bank’s Executive Assistant of Investment Marketing

“I am an extremely emotional person. I feel things in such a strong way sometimes that I can’t sit still.

I used to see this as a weakness and honestly, sometimes I still do, depending on the situation. However, as I pursue my profession as an educator, I am realizing how powerful those emotions that I feel can be. I realize that I don’t want to be a teacher that can turn the other way when my students are suffering.

If my students are experiencing an unjust system working against them, I want to be their advocate. I want to be a teacher who sees something wrong and just has to address it. I want to be that adult for these kids, the one who they know they can come to when they need help. I want them to know that they won’t be turned away or silenced.

I don’t want to be blind to the bad things that happen in the world, I want to be a part of the solutions.”

— Cari Wilson, 26, Student & Future Elementary Schoolteacher

“I was in a relationship with a narcissist for 3 years. He was 15 years older than me. He was successful and wealthy. It was always a battle for me, because I didn’t know how to keep my boundaries with him.

It started off so great and slowly became a nightmare that I never could have seen coming. I was choosing him every single day over myself. I cut out people from my life that he didn’t like, he knew where I was and who I was with. I became a shell of a person, and I still felt like I needed him to make me full again.

He would drink almost every night to the point of blackout. He was cheating on me and lying to me, but I didn’t want to believe the truth that was right in front of me. I let go of the control of my self-worth because now it was his to control. He knew how to manipulate every feeling, every word and every action to make it seem like I was just crazy and jealous. He made me think I was nothing without him, and I believed it. He eventually left me for someone else. It’s been 2 years and I’m still trying to piece myself together.

My sensitivity is something that I hated growing up, but that I’m learning to be okay with. I cry at everything, I always have. And I don’t mean just sad things. I cry when I’m angry. I cry when someone says something negative to me. If they look at me the wrong way. And many times, I cry just because I feel like it.

Crying it out helps me feel like I’ve let a weight off my shoulders. When I was a kid and well into my teens my dad would always get really mad when I cried. If I was in trouble for something, I’d usually be fighting back tears while he would say something like “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”. Who says that?

My dad tried to pass down his fear of emotion. He didn’t think that you could be vulnerable and strong at the same time. But I am. I am sympathetic, I am compassionate. I’m sensitive to others and their feelings and I think that helps me to be a good person.”

— Mary Catherine Fehr, 25, Professional Photographer

“I’ve always been told that I’m bossy or loud. I internalized those insults by being quiet and taking up as little space as possible.

As I came into myself, I’m much more comfortable with myself and who I am. I love that I’m confident in taking charge of situations and that I don’t have to feel ashamed or feel the need to apologize because someone expected me to be submissive or quiet.

Also, growing up in the South as a first-generation, Vietnamese-American wasn’t necessarily a flaw, but it was something I wasn’t exactly proud of. Other kids in school weren’t exactly kind about not understanding certain cultural differences. My family’s culture became something I’d sweep under the metaphorical social rug.

It’s funny now because I grew up having to defend the kind of food I ate at home. Now it’s trendy or cool, because who doesn’t love to go out to dinner for some pho? I know I always have, and I know my momma makes it the best. I love being a southern, Asian American woman!”

— Tanya Hoang, 25, Nashville Pedal Tavern Driver

I simply could NEVER understand what my husband went through. To this day, I get the worst looks from black women. I never understood why, but then I started realizing that it was because they feared for my husband. They were afraid because being a white woman, I would never understand.

I would never understand what his ancestors went through. I would never understand what his ancestors fought for. I would never understand the concerns that his family has for him…But just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I won’t use my privilege to make a difference. Just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I won’t stand at the rib of my husband to endure the battles he faces every day. When they see me, they see US. When they see him, they see US.

Just because I don’t understand doesn’t mean I don’t hurt. You stereotype my husband because he’s black. Do you know my husband though? Do you know he’s a father, and an AMAZING one at that. Do you know he’s the sole provider of our household so I can raise our children? Do you know he keeps a roof over our heads? Food on the table? My husband breaks his back every day to provide for his family. But you see a black man. You see years of history that your ancestors instilled in your mind. You don’t see past his color. But I do. I constantly use my voice to try and ease the daily battles he faces. I stand beside him fighting the battle he fights every day.

Yesterday, the white woman who murdered Botham Jean was sentenced to 10 years – for which she will probably only serve 5 – and I broke down. The daily battle I face just slapped me in the face again. Every day I’m having to prove to the outside world that I’m worthy of my husband. It’s as if the voice I have is continuing to be silenced by white supremacy. I’m finding myself falling victim to the disgusting ways of the ongoing world.

But my thing is I can’t feel like a victim because it’s not about me, it’s about my husband…Beautiful black women, I understand why you fear. I’m ALWAYS checking up on my husband for the simple fact that I want him to come home at the end of the day. I NEED him to come home. I fear for my children. I do my utmost best to raise them but there are some things only their father can teach them. I fear for my husband’s life every day. So yes, maybe I will never understand the past, but I sure do understand the fears of today.

Having interracial children is scary.

You don’t want your children to face years of history that they weren’t born in. You try to teach them to love everyone, but it’s not my voice I’m worried about. It’s the voice of those who still instill a sense of hate into their children. It’s the silent voices behind closed doors you worry about. It’s the fear that this may never change. My children’s children may face it and so forth.

White supremacy doesn’t define me. White supremacy doesn’t limit the fact that I fear for my black husband the same way people fear that he’s married to me. I will use whatever voice I have to protect my family and the ones that don’t have a voice of their own. There is never enough knowledge one can grasp. My voice should be something powerful, but white supremacy makes it to where sometimes I’m so broken I don’t feel as though it matters. But it does. My voice matters because of the skin I’m in. The privilege I have. The privilege that will make those around me listen and I will make sure I’m heard. At the end of the day, my voice protects my family. My voice protects my husband.

My voice will be heard.”

— Brittany Solomon, 26, Stay-at-Home Mom

Thank you, ladies.

Voices of the Sisterhood