To the men who told me I wasn’t enough,

To the men who told me I was too much,

To the men who I was good enough to sleep with but not good enough to marry,

To the man who beat me until I was too broken,

To the man who raped me,

To the men who broke my heart,

To the men who lied to me,

To the men who cheated on me,

To the men who told me I wasn’t sexy enough,

To the men who told me I was stupid,

To the man who told me I was a terrible mother,

To the man who told me I was a horrible housekeeper when I had toddlers,

To the men who only wanted me for sex,

To the man who told me I wasn’t skinny enough at 15,

To the men who told me over and over again to “eat a cheeseburger,”

To the men who made me feel small,

To the men who told me I was worthless because I’m a woman,

To the men who sexually harassed me at work,

To the men who tried to make me “the other woman,”

To the man who told me I’d never amount to anything,

To the men who told me I was broken,

To the men who grabbed my ass in a bar,

To the stranger who rammed his hand down my pants,

To the man who sexually assaulted me at a party,

To the man who held me down and spit in my face,

To the men who wanted me to be your “dirty little secret,”

To the married men who flirted with me but were “just joking,”

To the man who molested me as a teenager,

To the men who catcalled me in the street,

To the men who called me a whore, slut, b*tch, c*nt,

To the man who told me nobody would ever want me,

To the man who told me I was “washed up” at 29,

To the man who told me I’d never be anything without him,

To the man who covered my mouth, so I couldn’t scream,

To the man who left me alone in the city in the middle of the night,

To the men who broke my spirit for pleasure,

To the men who degraded me, belittled me, and insulted me,

To the man who laughed in my face while I cried,

To the man who taught me that abuse was normal,

To the man who told me I deserved it,

To the men who told me I was crazy,

To the men who lied about me and slandered my name,

To the man who took everything from me,

To the men who got off on my pain,

To the men who told me I would never be taken seriously in business,

To the man who told me I’m too pretty to be single,

To the men who told me I’m too full of myself,

To the men who tried to “take me down a peg,”

To the men who drugged my drinks at a bar,

To the man who had sex with me while I was unconscious,

To the men who make me feel unsafe walking to my car in the dark,

To the men who bragged about me to their friends, like a conquest,

To the men who gaslighted, hovered, ghosted, and love-bombed me to make me feel crazy,

To the men who made me doubt my intuition,

To the men who think I owe them something,

To the men who get angry because I refuse their sexual advances,

To the men who take liberties they shouldn’t,

To the man who told me I was too independent for a real man to want me,

To the men who tried to manipulate me,

To the men who made me question my own sanity,

To the men who didn’t love me like I loved them,

To the men who tell me I’m too picky,

To the men who tell me I’ll be single forever unless I settle,

To the men who made me feel like I didn’t want to live,

I want you to know, I see you.

I see you for the broken soul you are. I know that it’s not me you despise, it’s yourself. Your own self-loathing makes me the target of your displaced rage, because you see my light and it blinds you.

I am not your victim.

I want you to know, your power is an illusion. But, mine is real; it comes from knowing the truth of who I am and what I deserve. It was given to me by my creator; therefore, you cannot possess it, dim it, or eradicate it.

I refuse to internalize your deceptions.

I want you to know that I will not play small, so you don’t feel emasculated by me. You see, I’m not emasculating, you’re emasculated. And that’s a problem all of your own making.

I want you to know, that even though I’ve experienced the worst of you, I still believe in love.

I still believe that there are good men out there, and I even believe there is good in you.

I will allow myself to love and be loved, but you’ll never experience that because you’re the broken one.

Love doesn’t control.

Love doesn’t hurt.

I want you to know, I feel sorry for you.

But more than that, I forgive you.

You don’t get to control my body, my thoughts, my feelings, or my emotions any longer. I release myself from the shackles of your self-proclaimed domination. I am, and always have been, in control. I just didn’t see it until now.

I want you to know, you did not break me.

You actually did me a favor. Everything I experienced made me stronger, wiser, more loving, and more resilient. It made me realize that no matter what, I will not only survive—I will thrive.

This is my story, but it doesn’t define me.

I may have given you my power—I’m taking it back.

~