Love Yourself First. What, Even Girls like Us?
A missive for all women who are abused and lied to
Many moons ago, I worked in a Women’s Refuge.
I was young and looking back, very naïve.
However, back then, I thought I was aware, on point and in touch with matters affecting women.
Working at the Women’s Refuge left a mark in my heart.
The stories the women shared and horrors they went through to survive abuse — physical, emotional, and sexual exploitation, and then, ultimately, thrive — made me humble and strengthen my desire to care and support all women souls.
Today’s story: Love Yourself First. What, Even Girls Like Us? Is dedicated to all the women I’ve met — and will meet.
I am sharing this open letter in honour of the women who inspired me to write it.
Women who are lied to; and are on the journey of inner peace, self-love and acceptance as they survive and thrive from abuse and sexual exploitation.
I also offer it to all young girls and women who feel love is outside of themselves and something “someone” else has to give you, to feel worthy and validates.
Please note: Girls Like Us? Is graphic and may disturb some of you.
Love Yourself First. What, Even Girls Like Us?
For so long they had fed her the story, so she believed that a girl like her didn’t deserve it all.
Didn’t deserve her share of the American dream;
didn’t deserve the niceties of life.
The finer, sweeter slice of apple pie.
Girls like her.
Girls like her?
Who were girls like her?
Girls like her were girls of victory, a prize to be had in the middle of a long busy day;
a whore to be slapped, shagged, and struck to the ground for daring to fulfil your darkest fantasy.
Girls like her, you call sluts, tarts, whores and nasty bits of filth you shat upon and trod back into the earth -after you’ve had your fun.
Yes, girls like her.
And yet, girls like her- were born as princesses, as all girls are.
Girls born full of promise, bright-eyed and bushy tail.
Girls who set out to slay the dragon and still bathe in the golden Milky Way.
Where had it all gone wrong?
Why is our little princesse here, sitting alone, torn, soiled and bare?
Where was the knight in shining armour?
The hunky hunk who is supposed to save your bacon and still bring home the bacon?
Where was the protective arm of the law when our little fairy-tale princess needed a hand?
A tender touch to see her through, to open doors and take her hat and coat as they sat for Afternoon Tea?
Yes, where was he?
As our little princess, now grown and withered through the years, looked up and around… was this really ‘her man’.
The one by her side who kicked and deviled her body and treated her like a worn-out carcass fed to the dogs?
Wasn’t he supposed to be by her side, to “love, honour and cherish her till death do-us-part?”
What happened to that Prince Charming story all little girls were told to believe?
Where is that Knight in Shining Armour?
The gallant soldier you were told who would come and save you and bring you back to life with a kiss?
Yes.
Where was he?
Where is that Knight in shining armour?
The Robin Hood who robbed the rich to save the poor and uphold his Maid’s honour?
What had happened to that pipe-dream of the white picket fence and hubby coming home to home-made apple pie and ice-cream?
Where had it all gone wrong?
What had she done wrong?
Why is our little princess, now all grown and withered, crouched alone to figure it all out?
Why is she the one left in shame?
The one society points their finger at and sneers at her falling from grace?
Instructed to bury her head in the sand and let by-gones be bygones: for that’s the way of the world.
Why is she the one left to pick up the pieces?
The hostile eyes gawk:
“And who do you think you are to change all of that- just be thankful you are alive, you dirty whore.”
And then, some day as the sun travels across the sky, our little princess lifts her wearied head and surveys the land.
Proud and naked, she takes the stand.
Picks up her babes in arms and retells the story.
The story of truth.
The story that has the real fairy tale ending.
She/her affirms that knight in shining armour — as all real princesses know, is the knight inside your soul, the knight who guides and tells you what to do.
That knight in shiny armour is your skill, your determination, kindred spirit wrapped up in dusty pink cotton socks and tea for three — me, myself and I.
For as real princesses grow and know, Prince Charming exists.
She/her is alive and kicking.
That knight in shiny armour is still alive.
She/her is buried deep in the heart of your soul, where your dreams lives, where you hide when the world kicks you down and troubles threaten to topple you to the ground.
Yes, dear sisters, souls of old, there is a pot of gold, not at the end of the rainbow or the Yellow Brick road, but mirrored inside; secure and deep within the double rainbow which radiates through your soul — that is The Knight in Shining Armour.
So little princesses, hussies’, whores, queens and slag — whatever they call you…
Remember, you are more than they will ever know.
You are the star in the galaxy.
The lighthouse and harbour for the footprints waiting in the wings.
You are the legacy born to thrive.
Remember, when the days seem long and the blues batter your door and the other Prince Charming is nowhere near, just remember where she/her is to be found.
Right here.
Rooted within the bosom of your soul.
So blessed sistahs, when you feel alone, sad and blue, and the seven winds scattered far and wide.
Just remember to breathe, touch the diamonds glistening deep within.
Reconnect your yin with your yang.
Smile, stand strong and be The Queen Bee you are born to be.
c. Ntathu Allen, 2009
Closing Prayer
And now, I invite you to kindly clap and share Love Yourself First. What, Even Girls like Us? With your friends because I believe this missive may help another person overcome their fear and pain to rise and fly. Thank you.
As usual, may you and everyone dear to your heart be healthy, happy and well.
Keep lovin’, healing and being the shining star of the universe you truly are.
Namaste
Ntathu
Today’s story is updated from an article I originally published at https://www.yogainspires.co.uk on February 13, 2019.
