My Mom Threatened to Make Me Into the Next Sonya Massey.

For the first time in my life, I’m starting to consider referring to my Mother by her first name.

She has lost her title as my Mom.

As some of you know, I have been living with my abusive family for the past few years. 

Although I have written about my “home” life on my blog, I haven’t talked about it very much lately, and that is for a few reasons. 

For one, 2024 has mostly been uplifting. For one, I’ve accomplished a lot with my writing, and it has grounded me in a deeper sense of direction and clarity with my intentions for my Creative platform. 

Also, some seedlings I’ve planted from long ago have sprouted, offering the spirit of hope for a brighter future, as well as abundant resources that have helped me take care of myself and release the burden of survival mode. Freedom finally feels within reach, and I am nursing it like a baby, preparing for its arrival, steadfastly moving in stealth and silence. 

The past month that I’ve been “home” has been mostly calm. So much so, that I started to relax a little. But the cycle of abuse goes through phases and seasons, and every calm must come before a raging storm. Usually, the longer and sweeter the season of calm, the more violent and devastating the storm will be. You never know when or how it will hit you, or what wreckage it will leave this time—but you must always be prepared. 

This weekend, I had an incident with my Mother that really disturbed me, and I feel called to write the story of what happened, and how I am navigating the aftermath. 

The title of this post is exactly what happened, and it’s not a metaphor. My Mom threatened my life with anti-black police violence to manipulate and intimidate me. 

To add insult to injury, my Mother doesn’t “look like me”…but I will get into that later. 

Believe it or not, it all started with her bringing home two cute little kittens, and me minding my goddamn business. As per usual, she created utter chaos out of nothing.

I poured my heart out writing this, and it wasn’t easy to write—but I really needed to. This is a window into the hardest and most painful part of my life, and this is an experience that has left me feeling raw and tender.

There is a lot more I’d like to share about my journey in the future, and I know that my stories can help others. Right now I am in the thick of it, writing so that I can heal and release as I move along.