Priscilla Blossom

When you lose a child, you no longer have the words to ask for help. It’s up to us on the outside to lend our support, and there are plenty of ways in which to do this.

You’ve been with me since birth, Belly. Back then, everyone thought you were the cutest thing ever. Now, I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure my folks used to kiss you and blow raspberries on you the way I now do with my 2-year-old son.

[CN: rape, victim-blaming, mentions of sex work] I felt violated. I felt angry that no one had stopped him, or stopped me from going outside with him. That no one had noticed how intoxicated I was. That no one had cared. And most of all, I felt utterly confused as to why I still allowed him inside my house after everything that had happened.

When I found myself facing an unwanted pregnancy, and after having spent the good part of two years pregnant, I knew right away that I would have an abortion.

It would be a lie to say that I worked for a feminist porn company — it was run by a pair of sleazy men who were obviously not in it to improve the lives of women. But there were some aspects about it that were feminist.

[CN: ageism, sexism] What kind of screwed-up culture do we live in where young girls are considered to be sexual beings, but women over 40 are “too old” to be desirable?

As an adult, I’ve experienced more trauma than I ever knew possible. Between multiple sexual assaults, the unexpected death of my first child, the highly traumatic birth of my second child and his subsequent months spent in the NICU, I am often surprised that I am still standing.

I’m not straight, but I often feel like a queer outsider. And I know I’m not the only one. Just a few days prior to the shooting, a fellow queer mama who is also married to a man came out on Facebook to let the world know that just because she is with a man doesn’t make her any less queer.

I felt lonelier than I ever had before. I didn’t recognize who I was anymore. I tried to play my role, but inside I was drowning.

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