08/02/2026
Today, as I cook lunch for my family, my mind drifts to the family I chose to cut out of my life. I think about my mom’s eldest sister the one who chose silence when she learned I was a victim at the hands of her brother. She chose not to get involved, even though that same man had victimized her own daughter when she was young.
I think about my mom’s older brother, who cried when he heard what happened to me, yet still chose to drive back to the family who silenced the rest of them. He was always the angry uncle, the one we didn’t really question, the one who controlled his own family in quiet, unsettling ways.
And I realize now if a family can overlook their own daughter being violated, if they can excuse harm and call it peace, then who am I to them? Who was my mom? Our pain was never going to matter there.
I also think about my mom’s youngest brother,someone I loved dearly, now a pastor. When the truth came out, he and his wife decided they would not give a statement. This, even though his own brother had tried to victimize his wife while she was sleeping.
Their silence didn’t end there. They chose to say that I lied, words echoed and shouted by my mom’s eldest brother turning truth into something they could dismiss, and pain into something they could deny.
And in that moment, I understood: this was never about not knowing. It was about choosing comfort over truth, silence over protection.
But I also know this,I have a mother, a husband, a son, brothers, a father, and a sister who stand with me. And most importantly, I have God. While they made their own plans in silence, God had His own plan, one rooted in truth, justice, and healing.