Loss of Human Rights and Violations to Humanity

I have had more than enough time to reflect on the past, and understand how busy our world has become. I wonder to myself, why I have been blocked out of my life and I hear the theories of others and many times, it does not resonate. I understand that individuals want to be a part of, but I am on the end without any respect and to receive punishment for different choices and misjudgments is inhumane. 

When I write letters to those in authority, and receive messages that there are no avenues that cater to my innocence. I have had to be solely independent in my efforts, as individuals act afraid interaction and that is very unnerving. My younger brother turning on me has been equally painful, and it's like I've been sentenced without even committing a crime. I realize I've had placeholders for relationships and while they meant something to me, I feel as if these were just side jobs to others. 

If I don't share, then I believe that I can not help other women who are facing the same scrutiny. What really bothers me is when I receive messages of being a "snitch." I am a victim, and a grateful survivor to persons unknown. I"m humble enough to say that I'm grateful, but at the same time I think about all of the people that I've met and wonder why I wasn't included or at least warned about this tumultuous time, and how it may affect me. Mostly, I wonder about my family more than anyone, and I'm disappointed.

I am not a commodity, and as an activist and a writer I can not be silent just because individuals do not want to remedy the problem in an effort to capitalize on this wrong. As a trafficking victim, I see this ordeal in an entirely different way. I see my challenges, the hardships and the hurdles that I did not understand. I refuse to be railroaded into a negative destiny that is not a destiny.

In 1999, I was close to C. Bailey because we graduated the same year or close from Columbia, and we went to see Mary J. Blige at the Shelter. It was fabulous, but what I didn't know was that I was suffering from, yet again, a poisoning. It affected my kidneys, and when I remember being hospitalized in 1996 for a kidney infection--I remember it made me cry.  A lot. I cried the entire concert, and I don't know how C. B. took it, but that was one of those times.

I do not know why these people are always attempting to hurt me. I don't know why I have not been treated fairly in this matter, but it's as if someone wants me to lose all hope. That's kind of sad to me, because even a character flaw is not worth destroying another human being. I want to believe that I can reach out to Columbia for assistance as an alum, but the truth is they weren't the most supportive when I was a student, at least the Dean's office could be a bit uncomfortable. I remember Blondell, another alum and how she kind of hinted to the gambling on students--the students who received the grant money for school. 

Sadly, I always felt the air of resentment from advisers. Almost as if we were really guinea pigs, at times. As I write this, and think about my own family and the connections that they've never shared and the missing gems of wisdom that I'd need to protect myself, I wonder. Yet, it's as if some outside entity that I am unaware of has suddenly decided to raise from an abyss without an introduction, only to impress a presence.

What is interesting about these individuals, is that they are not realizing that I'm not a rumor or a hate anthem; but, a real human being. I am that WOC that our society just hasn't become comfortable with sitting at the table with yet. I don't concern myself with that as much as knowing that regardless, I have a right to pursue happiness. 

I know that within a small circle those who are witnesses to the obstacles and trials of writers; were we become anomalies and our human status somehow leaves the minds of those that we have entertained. Some of them angels. We become objects and things like trophies, but I'm not finished on my journey and I am resenting being held hostage and when I make a move to help myself--my phone lines are rerouted. 

Faith. That's what most say is the remedy to all situations, and while I do believe in faith. I also realize that faith in humanity, and the faith in others plays a huge role in eliminating some problems. When you are railroaded the way that I have been, you need authority to step in and be just. You need to see results and not signals. I'm not one to play video games, but I enjoy living my life and these people have caused me so many problems in the name of untruths.

If there is corruption, I should not be responsible for begging our government for assistance, and how does my half-brother work in homeland security and I receive no help? I did not believe he had a vendetta against me, but maybe he does. I've only met him once. My copyrights to my work are being held hostage, and I'm feeling pulled in multiple directions, as everyone scares the other behind the scenes. 

There is no right way to do wrong, and I am not in agreement with the treatment that I've received. Being trafficked and railroaded is a serious matter. It is so huge that once I realized the trafficking, I saw Felicia Murphy's influence on my job at Chase, and the tumultuous dv relationship that caused me to use a time out for depression turned into a full blown smear campaign. I was there for Felicia at Columbia, but once again, these subtle issues surface and they are attempting to be in my life, even now. 

I stand in peaceful resistance, as a victim of trafficking I seek those who are willing to stop following me as gypsies, and reach out with a phone call. I'm tired of plants and shills because I am not an enemy of our government. I am a woman who was cultivated in America, and it may not be the best country, but it's the country I know and respect. Why should I not be a part of our society?

I have committed no crime. 

With respect,
​Namaste