This is my story and only I can tell it the way it really happened and why I had to do something about it to save myself, and the souls of others caught in the same predicament. It’s all about vindication, redemption and salvation for justifiable means. There’s much more to life, love and liberty than what’s usually seen on the surface. The real story is beneath the covers and well within the confines of Pandora's box...and it all depends on circumstance and timing. In everybody’s existence there’s defining moments that determine your destiny if you’re not fortunate enough to be in the right time at the right place. Well, for me I had no such fortune and the timing definitely was off. The callous attitude and bitterness I carry with me stems from working hard all of my young life, and I did it on my back, often looking up at men that cared less about despoiling and defiling girls who may be exploited for sex. I’ve been accused, abused and misused, but I’m still a woman...so much so that bed and board didn’t silence me from extracting justice for my redemption. No, I refused to be a figment of anyone’s imagination who have not walked in my shoes and have worn any of the fabrics that wove me threadbare and wanting; nor am I one of your broken women who hide behind the sexist claims that women are always subservient. Rebuke and scorn are merely by-products of my angst, but I shall not be removed or reminded how men continue to force their will on vulnerable women, least of all, myself. I’ve been there and done it! I’ve seen a lot of hatred and humility in my time of lay-me-down blues, let me tell you. I am who I am now because the fire this time is hotter and burns much deeper within me and escapism found me before I found it. I’m on a mission and want to be seen bigger than life just like my ancestors before me, who toiled and tallied while suffering in their wake. Am I the once naive youngster who for years suffered the indignity of abuse at the hands of a despot step-dad and men without valor? Hardly. But know this: justice is not just us, the exploited, but about the sordid situations and circumstances that will come to a halt with my growth. It’s also about the satisfaction of me bringing this whole affair to a crashing halt and my sisters will have their day. Not on their backs, but standing firmly on feet of solid rock! 

    You see no matter my age, I was a young girl of pleasure...a whore by trade, and by any other name it wouldn’t lessen the impact of the essence of my journey.  I was forced into prostitution, and as a result it made me dependent on sexual gratification without the joys of intimacy, and maturity couldn’t save me. As I grew older I became numb and impervious to what was happening to me, not knowing how and when to stop because I’d become a slave to the flesh. Biding time is like an eternity, but I never lost faith in God. I prayed constantly. I had to. I always considered myself blessed and full of the good things that a girl of my time could have despite the fate that I was befallen to. I’m putting all of this past tense purposely so that you would understand why I had to run and tell somebody what I went through. It’s my way of being pulled up by God and doing the right thing. I asked God in most of my prayers to allow me to look up reverently while on my back so that I could get up and go in the right direction. That direction is all too familiar to those that know Him -- standing tall going straight, turning right and looking up. Keeping your head to the sky, knowing too, that to be made whole you had to have been broken first! I’ll cut to the chase later. At 25 there’s no shame in my game and it’s time that I go on record to help my sisters still in bondage. But the rest of the story, I will tell you, was like no other, and I will start from the beginning.  Join me only as I tell my story.