Colonial Trauma
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
A poem about wounds created by Patriarchy, Religion, and Capitalism.
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
Why should I confess to a man who knows nothing about me, but was raised to believe that he does?
Why should I confess to a man who judges me by my gender, who sees me as a sinner, a sinner for being born? How sick is this?
Why should I confess to a person who preaches saying that people should fight for “saving” themselves to arrive in a place that they will never be enough to be?
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
Why should I confess to a person who dissociates myself from my own body, from my nature? Why should I confess to a person who is there to say that pleasure is dangerous, turning me into a devil?
Why pleasure is seen as dangerous? Because to understand your own pleasure, you need to listen to your own needs, your own body, your own rhythms.
Pleasure is one of the main keys to reclaiming your own autonomy, for setting boundaries, for saying No!
Once you understand how to meet your own pleasure, you understand that the salvation they are selling is as empty as their fast food, too many calories, too much sugar, and empty in nutritional value.
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
It took me too many decades to learn to care for a wound that I knew it was hurting, but they said it was “normal” to bleed.
It took me decades to be able to speak up and say: No, no violence is normal … and understand that the day people normalize violence, it‘s when people’s humanity gets lost.
It is so sad to see many religions preaching to people to save their souls while normalizing so much violence, so many genocides, crusades, while colonizing people, and devastating Nature.
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
Why should I confess and submit to a religion that attacks women, silences lives, and kills cultures?
Why should I confess to a religion that burns knowledge, distorts histories, and murders social biodiversity?
In name of what? In the name of one monocultural “truth”?
Why should I confess to a religion that murdered and is still murdering first nations, povos originários physically and symbolically all around the world? They are still murdering the very same people who are most connected to the Earth and the cycle of the seasons.
No. I don’t forget, because this wound is still bleeding, and these memories are imprinted into the blood running into my veins.
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
Why should I confess to a religion that perpetuates violence against women?
Feminicide and misogyny are words that were hidden from me … to try to convince me that those wounds were “normal”.
By their culture, I had to hate my pleasure, doubt my body, silence my intuition, eat my feelings.
They tried to make me think I was isolated in my pain, that I was alone … they tried to make me believe that I was not normal, not loved, not enough, and sometimes, even too much, for not keeping my mouth shut.
They tried to separate me from my sisters. They tried to make me compete against them. They tried to convince me that their misogynous jokes were funny, their racism was ok, their classism was real.
They made me feel sick, and today I want to vomit from my system what they made me swallow all these years.
I am sick of them, I am sick of their discourse, their arrogance, their fake news, their emotional torture, their mental power game, their dynamics of oppression.
No, I won’t confess, I will say it out loud!
Today, I say out loud what I learned to be afraid to say publicly before because I feared for my life and sanity.
Today, I learned to name these acts of violence, and make them visible.
Today, I understand how much violence has been weaved in deeper levels of our social fabric. From the romanticized murders of family members to the rapes that were silenced, finished by the traumatic devastation of many socio-ecosystems in the name of sick salvation.
Some people call it, Capitalism, some people call it Religion, I call it by its common name, Patriarchy.
