I can only imagine how writing a piece like this could make you feel like you’ve been beaten up in a boxing ring. I’m glad that you brought up women as well as men being predatory and judgmental because women can do unbelievable harm to other women, and you got to experience their judgments first hand, unfortunately. When you moved on from your first marriage your very actions probably caused existential threats to other people who were unhappy and not knowing how to move forward. For many people, it is much easier to attack than allow themselves to feel empathy and be inspired. The last few lines about hope are a reminder that you did win. You did! You are living life on your terms with your people, creating and contributing, doing your yoga and your retreats, growing flowers, holding and kissing babies and your own kids, writing your truth, and loving so many. If that’s not hopeful, I don’t know what is. On top of it all, you found a man who has the precious and rare gift of humor and laughter. He literally does magic tricks! Of all the many things you could’ve sought out in the second marriage, you received this wonderful dimension in your life. It sounds like in the first chapter there was a lot of duty and in that constant service we are rarely laughing. Just thinking about your life with LG now makes me smile and laugh.
Tara, only you could make me laugh and cry in the same comment. You were there when I was still shaking and you've watched the whole second act unfold — so when you say I won, I actually believe it. Your point about women attacking what threatens them hit me hard. I've thought about that a lot over the years. It was never really about me. It was about what my leaving said to them about their own lives. And the man who does magic tricks — you're right, I went from a life with very little laughter to one where I genuinely cannot keep a straight face. It's just what I needed. Thank you for being someone who showed up kind when I needed it most and has never stopped. I love you for that.
God, Ilona, what can I say? Just because my gender, age, whatever prevents me from knowing your perspective, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel your emotional pain that just reaches out of these pages and overwhelms me. I’m so sorry for all of that you endured. My reaction to what you wrote was OMG, what’s wrong with these people?!? I may not understand how a woman feels, her fights and trials, but you only have to fall back on your own humanity to extend kindness, compassion and even understanding. Thank you for trying to yank these tired old man’s eyes open. I so enjoy your writing, thank you!
Keith, your comment brought a tear to my eye. A man who shows up with this much openness and willingness to feel what isn't his own story to carry — that's not nothing. That's everything, actually. The world needs more people who fall back on their humanity when understanding falls short. You've always done that. Thank you for seeing me, and for letting these words reach you. It means more than you know.
What you’re writing about is all the things people want to deny. They quickly pull in their head when they find out how you were used and brutalized by your first husband. They find your story makes them deeply uncomfortable and they will resent you if you try to speak of it openly.
But, I feel differently. It makes me determined to remind people that insuring bodily integrity means consent must be given with full knowledge. Once a person is drugged and then sexually assaulted while unconscious, there is no possible legal consent. We need laws that are clear body autonomy boundaries that properly hold people accountable when the laws are violated. Marriage is not a vehicle for exploitation of women with impunity.
You named something I danced around in the essay but didn't say as directly as you did — that people pull their heads in not because they don't believe you, but because believing you requires them to reckon with something uncomfortable about the world they live in. It's easier to doubt the woman than to accept that this is real and ordinary and happening everywhere.
And your point about consent and bodily autonomy being a legal clarity issue, not just a moral one — absolutely. France didn't even define rape as a non-consensual act until 2025. Think about that. The law itself was built around what men did, not what women experienced. Gisèle's case literally changed the law. That's what one woman's refusal to be silent can do.
Marriage as a vehicle for exploitation with impunity — that's the sentence I wish more people had the clarity to say out loud. Thank you for being someone who does.
Thank you for sharing your story - how incredibly disappointing people can be (understatement of the century). If I think for any length of time about the treatment of women (in general, and in the specific cases you describe) in our society, my head wants to explode. I believe there's a collective female rage that will come to fruition one of these days (please please please). Having met you only recently, as the complete and independent person you are, it's hard to imagine what you suffered. I'm grateful that you and the others are bravely documenting your experiences and showing (except for Virginia, of course, who didn't survive) how to truly LIVE on your own terms. My daughters, and all girls, need to witness that strength. Glad that life led our paths together!
Lisa, the fact that your email led us to have matchas together is one of those things I don't take for granted. You showed up as a real person in a world where it's easy to just stay virtual, and that means something.
"Collective female rage that will come to fruition one of these days" — I'm with you. I think it's already building. Essays like this one and conversations like the ones we have are part of it. Rage that gets named and shared and witnessed becomes something else. Something that moves.
And Virginia. She's never far from my mind when I think about who makes it and who doesn't, and why. The least we can do is keep saying her name and make sure she didn't carry all of that alone for nothing.
Your daughters are lucky to have a mother who's paying attention. And I'm lucky that life got creative with our geography. See you soon 💙
Ilona , thank you so much for sharing. I can relate so well as I am fighting for my survival in a DM situation. 'As woman, we've learned our truth is only for us. For the outside world, it is negotiable when coming up against men... It's the same with ordinary men in our lives... Gisèle refused to protect everyone else from her truth. But truth in a woman's mouth is rarely received as simply true.' I can relate to those words. 'Virginia Giuffre told the truth her entire life. and the truth was not enough. The truth is never enough when the world has decided in advance that a woman's account of her own experience is negotiable.' Ilona, that happened to me when I called the police after being battered black and blue. Women's lives have no value in some people's eyes. I am seeking help which I am not getting and I was referred to an OT after requesting to talk to a social worker or psychologist. The Ot asked me what I did to provoke my abuser. Needless to say I didn't remained silent in the face of that woman who in not so many words was implying it had to be my fault and tried to shame me. I bear no shame and I tell everyone I meet about what I am going through. No more covering for him. The lack of financial and emotional support is preventing a lot of women from leaving. Some women can be just as bad as men in judging women.
Yvonne, I hear you. What you are living right now — the violence, the system that failed you, the OT who asked what you did to provoke it — that is exactly the machinery this essay is trying to name. You did nothing to provoke it. Nothing. And the fact that you refused to stay silent in that office, that you bear no shame and tell everyone — that is its own form of courage that I want you to know I see.
You deserve real support. Not an OT. A trained advocate who understands domestic violence. If you're not getting the support you need, please reach out to the National Domestic Violence Hotline — 1-800-799-7233, available 24 hours, or you can chat at thehotline.org if calling feels unsafe. They can help connect you to local resources including financial support and safe housing options.
You are not alone in this comments section and you are not alone in your fight. Please keep reaching out — to them, and to people who will not look away.
You are so brave. I really admire you for speaking your truth and being true to yourself.
I just finished Virginia Guiffre’s memoir. It was gutting, especially since she ultimately didn't survive her past. Have not read Gisele P’s yet but I read her interview in the NYT and her story and courage is breath taking.
I hope you are now fully recovered from your accident.
Thank you for your comment, Donna, and for reading Virginia's memoir. Gutting is exactly the right word. She deserves to be read and remembered, not just referenced.
Gisèle's book will feel like a necessary exhale — not because it's easy, but because she made it and she's still fighting. You need that after the weight of Virginia.
And yes, I am feeling a lot better, thank you for asking.
The thing about your mother saying she was ashamed of you. I keep coming back to that. Because shame is such a specific weapon, isn't it? It's not just disapproval. It's the message that you've broken something fundamental. That you're no longer worthy of being seen.
And yet here you are. Writing this. Married to Larry. Still here. Which means at some point you had to decide that her shame wasn't yours to carry. That's not a small thing. That's everything.
I think about how much of my life I spent trying to avoid other people's shame. Trying to be the version of myself that wouldn't make anyone uncomfortable. And how exhausting that was. How small it made me. It wasn't until I let myself be ashamed, really ashamed, in front of someone who didn't flinch, that I realized shame only works if you're alone with it.
You weren't alone. You had that one woman who said it would be okay. And maybe she didn't know if it would be. But she said it anyway. And that mattered. I hope you know how much that mattered. Not just for you, but for everyone reading this who's waiting for permission to stop carrying someone else's judgment.
Dr. A, you just gave me the thing I didn't know I was missing. "Shame only works if you're alone with it." That's the whole essay in one sentence. That's the whole book, really.
My mother's words have lived in me for decades. Not because she was right, but because she was my mother and I needed her to see me and she couldn't. Or wouldn't. There's a grief in that that doesn't fully resolve. It just gets quieter over time.
I never even knew the woman at church well. She probably doesn't know she saved something in me that day. A stranger who didn't flinch. You're right that it mattered. It mattered enormously.
What you said about letting yourself be ashamed in front of someone who didn't flinch — I want to sit with that. Because I think that's what Gisèle did in that courtroom. She let the world see everything and dared it not to flinch. And enough people didn't. That's what changed something.
Thank you for always showing up so fully. You make this community what it is.
I am sorry, Ilona, that such shame was cast upon you and that even your faith community had no comfort to give. No one should be unheard and unseen, and yet so many women are captive to silence. Gisele’s story is yet another example of a woman degraded by men. I know there are many decent men in our world, but at times, it seems hard to find them. My daughter’s generation is learning from ours that “standing by your man” is not the best course, which is why the divorce rate is so high. We seem to be failing to impart moral and ethical behaviour to our sons.
Candy, thank you for the kindness in your words — and for naming what the faith community failed to do. It should have been a place of refuge. It wasn't. That still stings a little, even now.
Your point about sons landed. We talk endlessly about raising strong daughters and not enough about raising sons who don't need women to be small in order to feel large. That's where the real work is, isn't it? The divorce rate isn't the problem — it's the symptom.
The problem is what we've been teaching boys about what women are for.
I'm glad your daughter's generation is paying attention. And I'm glad they have mothers like you helping them read the room.
Wow. As you were discussing the relationship with your previous husband, I heard myself saying "That's me. That's what I did. I did everything. To please. To be approved of. To be loved. But I wasn't. I was a convenience. A place holder.
I grew the food, I cooked, I cleaned, I repaired, I bought her a farm (actually), built the barns, fed the horses, mucked their stalls. And I got...some sense of satisfaction. Just helping people is a pleasure. I loved the lifestyle.
But it was a total one way street of affection and appreciation. I simply got tired of being taken for granted. I was an impliment. I was an admin assistant. I was actually a slave. I left. She got the farm and the little business I bought for her - and a check! I got something more valuable. Relief! Freedom to be me. I felt like I was shot from a cannon. And I landed nicely.
But we have something else in common. New really great mates! Yea! 27 years later and I am still having fun and appreciating someone who is a REAL partner.
All that being said, I am reminded daily how different it is for men vs women. The most outrageous aspect of the Trump/Epstein/Putin Files is the lack of listening to the women. And even when heard the outrage is missing. The lack of urgency is appalling.
There was a time not too long ago, when just what has been revealed so far would be more than enough for resignations and shame. But now...we have hubris on steroids. A return to a time when men can just do anything, buy silence and keep on doing bad shit.
Bill, the fact that you read this and said "that's me" instead of "that's not me" — that's exactly the kind of man the world needs more of right now. You built the barns, mucked the stalls, bought the farm, and still left with nothing but relief and freedom. I felt the same way.
That image of being shot from a cannon and landing nicely — I'm keeping that one. And yes, 27 years of a real partner changes everything. You know the difference now from the inside out, which means you can't unsee it.
Your point about the current moment is one I feel in my bones. There was a time when evidence was enough. When shame still had teeth. We seem to be living through a deliberate dismantling of accountability, and the women who spoke up — many of them — are gone or exhausted or simply ignored. I don't know if the tide turns. What I know is that people like you showing up and saying "I hear it, I see it, it matters" — that's how it starts.
Keep reading. Keep saying so out loud. Your comment is a gift.
Ilona, this is such a powerful and necessary piece, and it makes me reflect on your question about the cost of telling the truth. I wonder, isn't there, unfortunately, always a cost?
When I wrote my piece about the two experiences I had during my barber days, I didn't mention the shame I felt from the first one. But I sure did.
Paulette, the shame belonged to him. It always did. He sat in your chair and took something from you without permission and then left you holding what he should have carried out the door. That's the story underneath the story. And you just told a piece of it right here, in the comments, which means part of you is ready. Whenever the rest of you catches up — I'll be here to read it.
I lived most of my life to please. It was bred into me by my family of origin. My first marriage was 15 years of taking second seat to my husband’s other women, yet when I finally got the courage to leave, my parents were angry. “Catholics are married forever”. It has taken me the rest of my life to live for me. A tough journey. Thank you for sharing yours with us.
Jan, what you just described — fifteen years of taking second seat, finally finding the courage to leave, and then being punished for it by the very people who should have held you — that's exactly the machinery this essay is trying to name. The "Catholics are married forever" verdict handed down by parents who never asked what your marriage was actually costing you. I'm so glad you found your way to yourself, even if it took the rest of your life to get there. That's not failure. That's survival. Thank you for trusting me with this.
Glenna, I'm so glad this found you. Her book is remarkable. I think you'll find yourself in its pages in ways you don't expect. Sending hugs right back. You deserve to read words that remind you your truth matters.
Thank you, Ilona. I’ve been interested in her story from the beginning. She was so brave and carried herself with so much grace. I can’t imagine how she survived all that and yet continues to inspire others.
I think the only way is that she has maintained a bit of distance from what happened to her body, and its mpact on her. She also speaks about how she had to have the police convince her that it was her in the video. She didn’t recognize herself.
I can only imagine how writing a piece like this could make you feel like you’ve been beaten up in a boxing ring. I’m glad that you brought up women as well as men being predatory and judgmental because women can do unbelievable harm to other women, and you got to experience their judgments first hand, unfortunately. When you moved on from your first marriage your very actions probably caused existential threats to other people who were unhappy and not knowing how to move forward. For many people, it is much easier to attack than allow themselves to feel empathy and be inspired. The last few lines about hope are a reminder that you did win. You did! You are living life on your terms with your people, creating and contributing, doing your yoga and your retreats, growing flowers, holding and kissing babies and your own kids, writing your truth, and loving so many. If that’s not hopeful, I don’t know what is. On top of it all, you found a man who has the precious and rare gift of humor and laughter. He literally does magic tricks! Of all the many things you could’ve sought out in the second marriage, you received this wonderful dimension in your life. It sounds like in the first chapter there was a lot of duty and in that constant service we are rarely laughing. Just thinking about your life with LG now makes me smile and laugh.
Tara, only you could make me laugh and cry in the same comment. You were there when I was still shaking and you've watched the whole second act unfold — so when you say I won, I actually believe it. Your point about women attacking what threatens them hit me hard. I've thought about that a lot over the years. It was never really about me. It was about what my leaving said to them about their own lives. And the man who does magic tricks — you're right, I went from a life with very little laughter to one where I genuinely cannot keep a straight face. It's just what I needed. Thank you for being someone who showed up kind when I needed it most and has never stopped. I love you for that.
God, Ilona, what can I say? Just because my gender, age, whatever prevents me from knowing your perspective, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel your emotional pain that just reaches out of these pages and overwhelms me. I’m so sorry for all of that you endured. My reaction to what you wrote was OMG, what’s wrong with these people?!? I may not understand how a woman feels, her fights and trials, but you only have to fall back on your own humanity to extend kindness, compassion and even understanding. Thank you for trying to yank these tired old man’s eyes open. I so enjoy your writing, thank you!
Keith, your comment brought a tear to my eye. A man who shows up with this much openness and willingness to feel what isn't his own story to carry — that's not nothing. That's everything, actually. The world needs more people who fall back on their humanity when understanding falls short. You've always done that. Thank you for seeing me, and for letting these words reach you. It means more than you know.
What you’re writing about is all the things people want to deny. They quickly pull in their head when they find out how you were used and brutalized by your first husband. They find your story makes them deeply uncomfortable and they will resent you if you try to speak of it openly.
But, I feel differently. It makes me determined to remind people that insuring bodily integrity means consent must be given with full knowledge. Once a person is drugged and then sexually assaulted while unconscious, there is no possible legal consent. We need laws that are clear body autonomy boundaries that properly hold people accountable when the laws are violated. Marriage is not a vehicle for exploitation of women with impunity.
I see your truth as bravery!🌹
Thank you for seeing that way, dear Jocelyn.
You named something I danced around in the essay but didn't say as directly as you did — that people pull their heads in not because they don't believe you, but because believing you requires them to reckon with something uncomfortable about the world they live in. It's easier to doubt the woman than to accept that this is real and ordinary and happening everywhere.
And your point about consent and bodily autonomy being a legal clarity issue, not just a moral one — absolutely. France didn't even define rape as a non-consensual act until 2025. Think about that. The law itself was built around what men did, not what women experienced. Gisèle's case literally changed the law. That's what one woman's refusal to be silent can do.
Marriage as a vehicle for exploitation with impunity — that's the sentence I wish more people had the clarity to say out loud. Thank you for being someone who does.
Thank you for sharing your story - how incredibly disappointing people can be (understatement of the century). If I think for any length of time about the treatment of women (in general, and in the specific cases you describe) in our society, my head wants to explode. I believe there's a collective female rage that will come to fruition one of these days (please please please). Having met you only recently, as the complete and independent person you are, it's hard to imagine what you suffered. I'm grateful that you and the others are bravely documenting your experiences and showing (except for Virginia, of course, who didn't survive) how to truly LIVE on your own terms. My daughters, and all girls, need to witness that strength. Glad that life led our paths together!
Lisa, the fact that your email led us to have matchas together is one of those things I don't take for granted. You showed up as a real person in a world where it's easy to just stay virtual, and that means something.
"Collective female rage that will come to fruition one of these days" — I'm with you. I think it's already building. Essays like this one and conversations like the ones we have are part of it. Rage that gets named and shared and witnessed becomes something else. Something that moves.
And Virginia. She's never far from my mind when I think about who makes it and who doesn't, and why. The least we can do is keep saying her name and make sure she didn't carry all of that alone for nothing.
Your daughters are lucky to have a mother who's paying attention. And I'm lucky that life got creative with our geography. See you soon 💙
Ilona , thank you so much for sharing. I can relate so well as I am fighting for my survival in a DM situation. 'As woman, we've learned our truth is only for us. For the outside world, it is negotiable when coming up against men... It's the same with ordinary men in our lives... Gisèle refused to protect everyone else from her truth. But truth in a woman's mouth is rarely received as simply true.' I can relate to those words. 'Virginia Giuffre told the truth her entire life. and the truth was not enough. The truth is never enough when the world has decided in advance that a woman's account of her own experience is negotiable.' Ilona, that happened to me when I called the police after being battered black and blue. Women's lives have no value in some people's eyes. I am seeking help which I am not getting and I was referred to an OT after requesting to talk to a social worker or psychologist. The Ot asked me what I did to provoke my abuser. Needless to say I didn't remained silent in the face of that woman who in not so many words was implying it had to be my fault and tried to shame me. I bear no shame and I tell everyone I meet about what I am going through. No more covering for him. The lack of financial and emotional support is preventing a lot of women from leaving. Some women can be just as bad as men in judging women.
Yvonne, I hear you. What you are living right now — the violence, the system that failed you, the OT who asked what you did to provoke it — that is exactly the machinery this essay is trying to name. You did nothing to provoke it. Nothing. And the fact that you refused to stay silent in that office, that you bear no shame and tell everyone — that is its own form of courage that I want you to know I see.
You deserve real support. Not an OT. A trained advocate who understands domestic violence. If you're not getting the support you need, please reach out to the National Domestic Violence Hotline — 1-800-799-7233, available 24 hours, or you can chat at thehotline.org if calling feels unsafe. They can help connect you to local resources including financial support and safe housing options.
You are not alone in this comments section and you are not alone in your fight. Please keep reaching out — to them, and to people who will not look away.
You are so brave. I really admire you for speaking your truth and being true to yourself.
I just finished Virginia Guiffre’s memoir. It was gutting, especially since she ultimately didn't survive her past. Have not read Gisele P’s yet but I read her interview in the NYT and her story and courage is breath taking.
I hope you are now fully recovered from your accident.
Thank you for your comment, Donna, and for reading Virginia's memoir. Gutting is exactly the right word. She deserves to be read and remembered, not just referenced.
Gisèle's book will feel like a necessary exhale — not because it's easy, but because she made it and she's still fighting. You need that after the weight of Virginia.
And yes, I am feeling a lot better, thank you for asking.
The thing about your mother saying she was ashamed of you. I keep coming back to that. Because shame is such a specific weapon, isn't it? It's not just disapproval. It's the message that you've broken something fundamental. That you're no longer worthy of being seen.
And yet here you are. Writing this. Married to Larry. Still here. Which means at some point you had to decide that her shame wasn't yours to carry. That's not a small thing. That's everything.
I think about how much of my life I spent trying to avoid other people's shame. Trying to be the version of myself that wouldn't make anyone uncomfortable. And how exhausting that was. How small it made me. It wasn't until I let myself be ashamed, really ashamed, in front of someone who didn't flinch, that I realized shame only works if you're alone with it.
You weren't alone. You had that one woman who said it would be okay. And maybe she didn't know if it would be. But she said it anyway. And that mattered. I hope you know how much that mattered. Not just for you, but for everyone reading this who's waiting for permission to stop carrying someone else's judgment.
Dr. A, you just gave me the thing I didn't know I was missing. "Shame only works if you're alone with it." That's the whole essay in one sentence. That's the whole book, really.
My mother's words have lived in me for decades. Not because she was right, but because she was my mother and I needed her to see me and she couldn't. Or wouldn't. There's a grief in that that doesn't fully resolve. It just gets quieter over time.
I never even knew the woman at church well. She probably doesn't know she saved something in me that day. A stranger who didn't flinch. You're right that it mattered. It mattered enormously.
What you said about letting yourself be ashamed in front of someone who didn't flinch — I want to sit with that. Because I think that's what Gisèle did in that courtroom. She let the world see everything and dared it not to flinch. And enough people didn't. That's what changed something.
Thank you for always showing up so fully. You make this community what it is.
I am sorry, Ilona, that such shame was cast upon you and that even your faith community had no comfort to give. No one should be unheard and unseen, and yet so many women are captive to silence. Gisele’s story is yet another example of a woman degraded by men. I know there are many decent men in our world, but at times, it seems hard to find them. My daughter’s generation is learning from ours that “standing by your man” is not the best course, which is why the divorce rate is so high. We seem to be failing to impart moral and ethical behaviour to our sons.
Candy, thank you for the kindness in your words — and for naming what the faith community failed to do. It should have been a place of refuge. It wasn't. That still stings a little, even now.
Your point about sons landed. We talk endlessly about raising strong daughters and not enough about raising sons who don't need women to be small in order to feel large. That's where the real work is, isn't it? The divorce rate isn't the problem — it's the symptom.
The problem is what we've been teaching boys about what women are for.
I'm glad your daughter's generation is paying attention. And I'm glad they have mothers like you helping them read the room.
Perfect... 'raising sons who don't need women to be small in order to feel large.' But then, you always are!
Wow. As you were discussing the relationship with your previous husband, I heard myself saying "That's me. That's what I did. I did everything. To please. To be approved of. To be loved. But I wasn't. I was a convenience. A place holder.
I grew the food, I cooked, I cleaned, I repaired, I bought her a farm (actually), built the barns, fed the horses, mucked their stalls. And I got...some sense of satisfaction. Just helping people is a pleasure. I loved the lifestyle.
But it was a total one way street of affection and appreciation. I simply got tired of being taken for granted. I was an impliment. I was an admin assistant. I was actually a slave. I left. She got the farm and the little business I bought for her - and a check! I got something more valuable. Relief! Freedom to be me. I felt like I was shot from a cannon. And I landed nicely.
But we have something else in common. New really great mates! Yea! 27 years later and I am still having fun and appreciating someone who is a REAL partner.
All that being said, I am reminded daily how different it is for men vs women. The most outrageous aspect of the Trump/Epstein/Putin Files is the lack of listening to the women. And even when heard the outrage is missing. The lack of urgency is appalling.
There was a time not too long ago, when just what has been revealed so far would be more than enough for resignations and shame. But now...we have hubris on steroids. A return to a time when men can just do anything, buy silence and keep on doing bad shit.
Will the tide ever turn?
Keep writing!
Bill, the fact that you read this and said "that's me" instead of "that's not me" — that's exactly the kind of man the world needs more of right now. You built the barns, mucked the stalls, bought the farm, and still left with nothing but relief and freedom. I felt the same way.
That image of being shot from a cannon and landing nicely — I'm keeping that one. And yes, 27 years of a real partner changes everything. You know the difference now from the inside out, which means you can't unsee it.
Your point about the current moment is one I feel in my bones. There was a time when evidence was enough. When shame still had teeth. We seem to be living through a deliberate dismantling of accountability, and the women who spoke up — many of them — are gone or exhausted or simply ignored. I don't know if the tide turns. What I know is that people like you showing up and saying "I hear it, I see it, it matters" — that's how it starts.
Keep reading. Keep saying so out loud. Your comment is a gift.
Ilona, this is such a powerful and necessary piece, and it makes me reflect on your question about the cost of telling the truth. I wonder, isn't there, unfortunately, always a cost?
When I wrote my piece about the two experiences I had during my barber days, I didn't mention the shame I felt from the first one. But I sure did.
Paulette, the shame belonged to him. It always did. He sat in your chair and took something from you without permission and then left you holding what he should have carried out the door. That's the story underneath the story. And you just told a piece of it right here, in the comments, which means part of you is ready. Whenever the rest of you catches up — I'll be here to read it.
Yes, Ilona! It is another story to be told. Part II.
You are thriving survivor, Ilona! Thanks for sharing your journey.
Thank you for your constant support and for bearing witness to my journey. It means the world to me.
I lived most of my life to please. It was bred into me by my family of origin. My first marriage was 15 years of taking second seat to my husband’s other women, yet when I finally got the courage to leave, my parents were angry. “Catholics are married forever”. It has taken me the rest of my life to live for me. A tough journey. Thank you for sharing yours with us.
Jan, what you just described — fifteen years of taking second seat, finally finding the courage to leave, and then being punished for it by the very people who should have held you — that's exactly the machinery this essay is trying to name. The "Catholics are married forever" verdict handed down by parents who never asked what your marriage was actually costing you. I'm so glad you found your way to yourself, even if it took the rest of your life to get there. That's not failure. That's survival. Thank you for trusting me with this.
Thank you for your heartfelt writings and information about the memoir.
Thank you for being here, Angela. I hope the memoir finds its way to you — it's worth every page.
"truth in a woman's mouth is rarely received as simply true"
This is powerful.
Cindy, that line came from somewhere deep. I'm glad it landed. Sadly it took me a lifetime to understand it.
I didn’t even know Gisele had a memoir. I just bought it for my Kindle. Thank you. Hugs to you.
Glenna, I'm so glad this found you. Her book is remarkable. I think you'll find yourself in its pages in ways you don't expect. Sending hugs right back. You deserve to read words that remind you your truth matters.
Thank you, Ilona. I’ve been interested in her story from the beginning. She was so brave and carried herself with so much grace. I can’t imagine how she survived all that and yet continues to inspire others.
I think the only way is that she has maintained a bit of distance from what happened to her body, and its mpact on her. She also speaks about how she had to have the police convince her that it was her in the video. She didn’t recognize herself.
Thank you for courageously sharing truth.
Thank you for receiving it, Leah. That matters so much.