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I Know Broken Girls

Updated: Jan 3, 2021

I know broken girls; they were everywhere- in church, at school; playgrounds, even in passing at the grocery store; I could look into their eyes and feel a cry out for help.

Especially in church, they were pretty reserved and introverted with kind eyes, fake smiles, and non-confrontational.

The majority of them were easy going, and I often caught them in a daze. They had grown accustomed to feeling uncomfortable around sons, older brothers, uncles, deacons, bishops, and especially stepdads -- before they even had a reason to be.

I used to think if the men were married, those girls were safe, which was not the case.

I tried to fight my assumptions about certain men, but every look and word spoken gave their real intentions away.

The confirmation was the unexplained annoyance broken girls had for them, their face when entering the room -- it told you everything they never said.

She isn't allowed to express herself

When broken girls lash out, you’d hear their parents say: "She's just being an average teen that wants to do whatever she pleases. You know how it goes, 'being fast --thinks she's grown.' I've been that age before."

This I translated to, "She's not allowed to express herself, no one is listening or paying close enough attention to the signs, not was she ever shown the affection she needed.

She has questions that go unanswered because her parents have trouble finding an answer themselves. But instead of communicating this, their explanation comes out like Because I'm grown.”

She’s not the same girl

When broken girls finally snapback, everyone whispers, creates their own reasoning and possibly adds a little to, the story by spreading rumors, just for kicks. "Why not? She was crazy.” and it was believable.

Her parents will say to friends and family, “Did I tell you what she did? What she said? She's lost her d--- mind! I won’t let her stress me out!”

Or when broken girls finally reach their breaking point and attempt to end their own lives? I’d hear, “I don’t know where I went wrong with her, she doesn’t talk to me, and her grades are slipping. She’s not the same girl. I’m just going to pray about it and let God have his way with her. Sometimes you just have to let them grow through it.”

I call bull----. They’re all perfectly sane. I actually envied them. They finally let loose and didn’t allow painful emotions and anxiety to take over anymore.

I couldn’t even scream, let alone attempt suicide.

Yes, that's nothing to be proud of, but for me, it felt like the next phase into healing instead of defeat; and I was stuck on Chapter -1.

You’re so weak

Other broken girl and I hardly exchanged words but I felt we both knew the reality of our lives. We were patient, always on edge, thinking about reaching better days.

We were bottled up and forced into accepting apologizes we never received. We wanted to be free, dress the way we please while expressing ourselves properly without luring in predators, unintentionally.

We had an unspoken connection and every stare back into each other’s eyes said “It happened last night, huh?

"No one even believed you, did they?"

"Why didn’t you scream or run -- something?"

“Really? You lost your voice? You’re so weak.” We were the other personality for each other -- if that makes any sense.

Once I was 18 , on my own, many of my assumptions about them were accurate. How could the rest of the saints in the church fall for that?

“You've grown into a beautiful young lady; you have your own place and car already? Wow! Where about do you stay? That’s just a few miles from me. Do you live alone?”

Those were the type of instant messages I received when I accepted their friend requests on social media or, even worse --- ran into them while out.

Earn your dignity & keep it

I deleted the message, blocked all of them, and logged out. I could imagine their next statement, but by stopping them from contacting me, we could both feel better knowing that those following words were never actually said.

I had formed a habit of allowing people like this to have some dignity still when they didn’t deserve it --not realizing it was the cause of a broken girl; the types of girls that earned dignity but wouldn’t allow themselves to keep it; girls that let this pattern seep into adulthood and grow roots.

These were the kind of seeds that sprouted, cut deep, and protected the next predator from his future poor choice, all because she lives on false hope.

Yeah, I’m pretty familiar; I knew quite a few broken girls.


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