07/04/2026
I am on my motherland, carrying so much to mourn as part of the diaspora: the genocide, scattered families in Europe coping with alcohol, sudden cultural differences within families, colonialism. My womb, heart, and throat connection has become a portal to digest and transmute these heavy threads, giving me the strength to hold difficult conversations and challenge harmful narratives, often without much human support within family systems. ancestral wisdom more accessible than ever, webs growing.
I continue to speak out about my dad, who molested me, even when family members choose to protect a predator, trying to drown me in their guilt. I write this with my feet on the soil where he grew up, and there is something powerful about this. I have walked out of spaces where it should have been him, but now I learn to take up space, to have my voice heard, like my luteal phase womb: loud and fu***ng angry.
My anger and pain remind me how much I deserve justice, fueling me to stand strong as I go through legal proceedings to fight for that little human in me with a fu**ed nervous system.
For now, I am tending to my needs as I slowly return the shame I was told to hold for others.
Love 💜
