I wear a purple ribbon for my family, friends, and acquaintances who have dealt with interpersonal violence and abuse. For all the children with broken arms and bruises, the teens who don’t want to go to sleep at night, and for those who don’t want to wake up. For all the adults who have been afraid for their children, and for themselves, who debate whether it would be safer to stay with an abuser or to leave the situation.
I wear a purple ribbon for all those who excuse the blackened eyes with another laugh about being clumsy. For the kids who excuse adults who hurt them, because those adults love them sometimes, or because they still love the adults in spite of all that they’ve done.
I wear a purple ribbon for any person who has been told they shouldn’t have been hurt, that “it’s all in their head”, or just their imagination that wrong was done. For everyone who wanted to believe those lies because they didn’t want to think things were really that bad, or who loved the person too much to fathom that the person would deliberately hurt them. For the ones who hoped it would get better, even when they knew it wouldn’t.
I wear a purple ribbon for all of us who have felt the pain, betrayal, and grief of abuse, and for those who can’t speak for themselves. I wear a purple ribbon not only to remember wrongs done, but to show that those wrongs can be overcome. One ribbon, one person, one life at a time.
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