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Heal or Jail Write or Die: My Momma, 6 P’s, and I, pt. 3, Hawk: He said “I could call him Dad!”

October 26, 2026Break Cycles Not PeopleJoyclyn

Foreword:

I’m a repeat it for the people in the back….As a survivor, advocate, and someone who has had the privilege to receive, provide and study services for survivors in detail; I can say with confidence that there is so much to be desired in the anti-trafficking landscape of resources that spans across EDUCATION, medical, legal, employment, aging, and economic sectors. Although Black, Hispanic, and Indigenous girls and women comprise the majority of those sex trafficked; as is, the current resources cater to mostly girls and women, and white women at that. Middle-class white women will dominate the media as survivors, every time. Everyone wants to share their story, be a part of it; turning right-wing maga supporters into anti-sex trafficking advocates with the swoop of a pen, in the blink of an eye. They definitely deserve it, but how much money, resources, and media coverage are spent on so few? Will the time, money, and laws created trickle down to the Black, Hispanic, Indigenous girls, women, boys, men, and their communities in the past, present, or future? If history is correct justice rises up, and injustices are passed down. Which brings me to all the boys and men who fall between the cracks of systemic injustice that began with slavery in the U.S., or long before that for that matter? Are they casualties of war; poster children of what can happen if left to their own devices after being trafficked themselves; becoming the traffickers? What’s in your DNA, I know what’s in mine? What about the services that pick the perfect survivor, only to share her story and pick her apart then discard her when the resources fail her, by design. WHAT ABOUT OUR GOVERNMENT THAT DOES THE SAME THING BUT TAKES NO ACCOUNTABILITY through businesses, sweatshops, and the likes of Epstein and things. The biggest pimp I know is a rich Jewish white man, but that doesn’t mean all Jewish people are that way, right? Anyways that’s another story, this story is about my mom and the men who impacted me and her, the most, were they abusees or just her P’s: Black Cadillacs & white Chocolate, Autotune, Beneficial Jimmy, Sidewalk Sweeper, Hawk (my father), and Dirty Rice; these are some of the boys and men that shaped who I am today,
oh, the things I’ve seen….

Hawk: He said I could call him Dad! (The 3rd Saga)

“Come on baby we’re going to the beach,” “With who?” “Girl, you ask too many questions, we’re going with my friend so just get in speak when spoken too, and sit back and ride, and we gonna get some Ivars and candy, ok?” “Ok, mother, some Ivars, okaaay, can I wear a dress, the yellow one?” “Girl, you and your dresses, yes baby you can wear the yellow one, I’m a put it on my bed after I get out the shower, just give me some time to get dressed and then we will work on beautifying you ok.?” “Ok, but what beach are we going to Seward Park or somewhere out here.” Stopping what she was doing she looked at me and shook her head and smiled…” You just can’t help yourself huh?” Taking her look at me as a personal invite for one of her many hugs I ran to her which was really running into her and wrapped my arms around her hips as I was only hip high and as I picked her up for a mili second she screamed to let me know I was strong “Put me down” she said as she giggled. “Mother your already on the floor, see your feet?” “Oh, yeah I am, thank you baby, now go play in your room and I will call you when it’s time to get dressed.” “Ok mother,” I said as I skipped into my room to play with Black Ken and white Barbie.

Dressed in my yellow dress, frilly socks, and Mary Janes I waited by the door. “Mom, can I wait outside, Peaches and them is out there?” “Who’s and them?” “Ummm, the little white boy Pauly and little Jimmy.” “I suppose, but make sure you stay in front, ok?” “Ok.” “What did I ask you to do?” Slamming the front door I yelled “make sure to stay in front” as I ran to see where they were. Spotting them across the parking lot I quickly forgot what she said, and I had promised, as I looked both ways and skipped across the parking lot to join them at the other end of the complex. As I got closer, I saw that they were looking towards where I had just came from. “Hi, what y’all doing?” Without looking at me Plum said, “ooh, ooh, here he come again.” Following their eyes across the parking lot I saw a man kicking my mom’s friend Vets door that was about 7 apartments down from ours. “Who is that?” “That’s Bubba and he about to beat her ass again,” Plum said as she smiled and leaned against the green electricity box that Pauly was standing on. “Why?” I said. Ignoring me she screeched “he kicked it open!” Pauly jumped off of the electricity box and ran towards Vet’s apartment “come on let’s get closer.” And with that everyone begins to run and I of course being the youngest I was last to make my way to the sidewalk adjacent to Vets apartment. As soon as I got to the sidewalk Bubba emerged from the front door dragging Vet by her breast saying all sorts of obscenities. “Bubba no, I’m sorry, please let me go” Vet yelled as he continued to drag her to his car. As soon as he let go Vet wasted no time jumping to her feet and making a run for her door. Bubba quickly followed grabbing her by her shirt yanking her hard she fell backwards on to the pavement “smack” “Ugh,” she groaned as he screamed through clenched teeth “Bitch I’m a kill you, run again.” Sirens wailed as the police turned the corner into the parking lot. Bubba immediately let her go and walked towards his car when I heard my mom calling my name “Joyyyyyy,” she yelled turning around I could see she was standing on the sidewalk talking to a tall light skinned man with a curl looking my way. “Here I come, bye ya’ll.” I said as pivoted and began to skip towards my mom and her friend. With a stern look on her face my mom shook her head and said “didn’t I tell you to stay in front?” “but Vet…” Shaking her head I could see she had tears in her eyes as she looked past me towards Vets apartment “I don’t want to hear it,” pointing towards a beige Cadillac she said “get in!”

“Hey now, you didn’t even introduce us,” Hawk said as he moved his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, lowering himself to my level. He said “I’m Robert, nice to meet you Joy.” “Hi,” I said as I backed away from him and grabbed my mom’s leg. Pulling a brown shiny wrapper out of his pocket “I brought you something,” holding the candy bar so I could see it was a Twix. “Your momma said you like these?” Looking at my mom for approval and getting the nod I grabbed the candy bar and skipped to the back door of the Cadillac, “Thank you, let’s go.” And with that we hopped in his Cadillac and headed to the beach. I soon found out he was really fun and that probably had a lot to do with his charm and how much time he spent with me. Sometimes he would watch me when my mom had to work. He would take me to his friends and even to his mom’s house where we would spend time with his sister Katrina. She was so pretty and she would take me with her sometimes as well. I remember she was in High School and we went to her graduation. My mom really loved her too. I remember he had friends that lived in the Southend around the Vista or Rainer Vista and I think one of their names was Jill. She was cool, we would often go over there and listen to music and catch a contact from the weed they were smoking. Or he would take me to the Holly Park gym, and I would watch him play basketball. Everything was really good until Katrina passed away. She had gotten the flu, or at least that’s what the Dr.s said because they sent her home only for her to have to be taken back to the hospital via the ambulance, and she passed away.

I think she had diabetes or something. I remember her death was preventable and it really messed him up bad. One time I heard my mom discussing it with her friend saying that his mom told him, “I wish it would’ve been you who died.” I think that would mess anyone’s head up. We would often ride around while my mom was handling business, and we would listen to the cuts like Computer Love by Zapp and Ready for the World. One day he said, “you can call me Dad if you want because I love you like my daughter?” I said, “ok, dad” and I called him dad from then on. Little did I know that my mom was pregnant at that time. Yea, there was times when he would kick down the door, or jump on my mom for something, but that had always happened with Autotune. I thought it was normal. So when my mom and I had pulled up to his mom’s house after being away for awhile I guess my mom seen the look on his face and decided we should come back another time because as soon as she turned off the car she turned it right back on and tried to put it in drive when he put his hand through the window snatched the key out the ignition opened the door and attempted to drag her out the car. Yelling “stop” from the passenger seat did no good, as he drug her out the car and half way across the yard before his mom’s boyfriend came outside and stopped them. Crying on the grass next to my mom as she cried I learned later that’s how she lost her baby, what would have been my sibling.

At one point my Aunt Sandra RIP had rented a house in West Seattle. They would both be gone sometimes and I would have to take care of us, Little Robert, Tashara, and Alice. But at least I wasn’t alone. We had each other and we would have dance party’s and I would cook what was in the house for us, which would often be cereal or popcorn. After some time my aunt stopped coming back and I think my little cousins got taken by CPS. Anyways Hawk showed up and I was happy at first until my mom started crying and he wouldn’t let her out the house. Eventually we were confined to the room where he would hit her upside the head every time she tried to leave. I saw it, I watched it until my mom said to “just lay down and turn the other way.” I had to sleep on the floor and every time she would move I would hear it, him hitting her, and then she would cry again, and there was nothing I could do, nothing I could do to save her. I just laid there on the floor only getting up when I thought they were both sleep to go to the bathroom until sometime later, there was banging on the door, and I got up and ran to the door before he could tell me to not answer it and it was one of my uncles, I don’t remember which one but I know he let my mom go after that. More happened in that house it had to have been for like 3 days she was captive. My poor mommy. I remember my momma crying, cussing, and walking down the street free, and I following behind her happy she was free.

He would come and go out of me, and my mom’s lives or maybe the other way around, I’m not sure. I remember seeing him at my mom’s Vet’s house when she lived at the bottom of Holly Park and him banging on her door for my mom to come out. My mom also brought him back home with her during one of the many times we stayed with my aunty Jackies starting with her staying in the Terrace. This time we were living on Hudson and often my aunty Jackie and my mom would both be gone so teenagers literally ran the house and as a pre-teen I had just gotten beaten up by one of my play cousin’s Heax’s for speaking up about him touching on me. Laura Kanamu, was her name or something like that. She had to be like 5-6 years my senior and I honestly thought he was gonna jump in, so I didn’t fight back. I don’t think she wanted to, but she was scared of him, hell I was too, after watching him beat her with a stick after she got caught coming back from some dude’s house. She asked me to come with her and as we were coming up the back way there his ass was waiting at the door waiving the wooden pole. He wanted to hit me with it too but thank God my mom was there and I was like “I’m not your girlfriend, I asked my mom could I go with her.” It was crazy there. There would be a drive by on the house at least once a month, but the good thing was that I could steal roaches out the ashtray and no one paid attention. That was except for him. He would tell my aunty Jackie on me and she would tell my mom and my mom wouldn’t care because she knew I was getting high…lol. Anyways Hawk found my diary I had just started, and I think I was writing about them. Him jumping on her or something. I just remember my mom was like “you writing now huh, you should put it up where no one finds it next time.” I stopped writing after that, because we moved so much I had no safe space to keep it; but the fact that I was trying to find a positive way to deal with my trauma is amazing. I have to pat myself on the back for that. I think Black Cadillacs & White Chocolate came around during that time too, briefly. It would be some time before we would see Hawk again, I guess he flew away.

I don’t think birds can swim because sometime later I heard he had died. He drowned, I wish I would’ve gotten to see my dad again before he died. He was the closest thing to a Father I had, he was the only one who wanted to claim me. No one wanted to claim me not Black Cadillacs & White Chocolate, not even Dirty Rice, and he had been around since I was 11 or 12 years old. He made it appoint to tell me “you are not my daughter, and you can not call me dad,” and after him saying that so much I was fine with it, Jesus is my father, f&^k Dirty Rice.

References

An Exploratory Study of Adolescent Pimping Relationships by Pamela M Anderson, Karin K Coyle, Anisha Johnson, Jill Denner https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.hih.gov/articles/PMC4079071/?hl=en-US#:-:text+%E2%80%9D%20(Female%20Student)%20Both%20groups%20also%20suggested,is%20often%20an%20easier%20and%less.%20%E2%80%9c

The Confluence of Gender and Poverty: The Shameful History of the /trafficking of Poor Persons for Sexual Exploitation by Jody Raphael
https://www.repository.law.indiana.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1045&context=ijlse&hl=en-US

Duff, P., Shoveller, J., Chettiar, J., Feng, C., Nicoletti, R., & Shannon, K. (2015). Sex Work and Motherhood: Social and Structural Barriers to Health and Social Services for Pregnant and Parenting Street and Off-Street Sex Workers. Health Care for Women International, 36(9), 1039–1055. https://doi.org/10.1080/07399332.2014.989437 Cited by: 109

Elsdon, R., O’Shaughnessy, R., Hodge, S. M., & Murray, C. D. (2021). Becoming a mother in the context of sex work: Women’s experiences of bonding with their children. Health Care for Women International, 43(6), 663–685. https://doi.org/10.1080/07399332.2021.1949598 Cited by:

Murnan, A., Wu, Q., & Slesnick, N. (2018). The impact of parenting on child mental health among children of prostituting mothers. Children and Youth Services Review, 89, 212–217. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2018.04.042 Cited by: 13

National Black Women’s Justice Institute
Resources | NBWJI

Office of Women’s Health: Effects of domestic violence on children
Effects of domestic violence on children

Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia Center for Injury Research and Prevention (CHOP), Domestic Violence and Child Abuse
Domestic Violence and Child Abuse | CIRP
Research | Center for Injury Research and Prevention (CIRP)

Futures Without Violence: Children
Children – Futures Without Violence New

Child Welfare Information Gateway
Child Welfare Information Gateway | Child Welfare Information Gateway

National Institute of Health / Pum Med Central (PMC)
pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

Frontiers in Public Health
frontiersin.org/journals/public-health

The National Child Traumatic Stress Network
nctsn.org

Journal of Global Health: Causes of preventable death among children of female sex worker mothers in low- and middle-income countries: A community knowledge approach investigation (JOGH)
Causes of preventable death among children of female sex worker mothers in low- and middle-income countries: A community knowledge approach investigation — JOGH

How Breaking My Cycle Almost Broke Me- Aviation Exploitation

October 3, 2026Break Cycles Not PeopleJoyclyn

“Not all money is good money” but I needed it so I agreed. I had been sitting on a board sdoing some advocating for bills and legislature that would support survivors, those that support the Commercial Sex Trade, and everyone in between for free. You see we’re all survivors of something we’re just pitted against one another to pay the house and the “house always wins.” Really though you must pick a side or someone will choose it for you. I had been asked to speak at an airport event where they were launching the Port Allies Against Human Trafficking the following month and since I had a few presentations under my belt, I didn’t think anything of it. I had just completed the film Can Oppression Be Liberation and I thought why not. I worked with the lady who orchestrated it and she reassured me it wouldn’t be difficult for me, “just speak from the heart.” She connected me with a social worker from the Port who walked me through the presentation before I was to catch my flight to Seattle. I asked to bring my baby with me because I wanted to spend some money on her, well really I wanted to be with her and that was the only way I was going to be able to. They were going to pay for travel, room and provide a stipend for speaking. It sounded pretty cut and dry.

It was a pretty normal day and I thought I had made it to the airport with enough time to catch our flights but nope. We went to check-in and they said I “was too late.” “There is no way I’m missing this money” I said as I grabbed my bag and carry-on luggage, “come on, we’re getting a rental.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m for justice, advocacy, and human rights but I’m also for getting money which is why I was a renegade for the most part. Making it to the rental car center all I seen was a sea of people waiting in line. Remembering I had VIP through my sorority with a rental car agency there, I quickly stepped in the empty VIP line and waited. After showing my membership card, I was told that they would give me something special and at a discounted rate. “Cool,” I said as I looked at the clock we had 3 hours to get there so they could’ve given me a prius and I would’ve been fine with that. “We have a charger we can give you?” The rental car attendant said. “That’s fine with me” I said as I waited for the keys…..

SMashing all the way to Seattle I’m afraid I made my baby scared because when my oldest daughter called she said that. Now I feel really bad for that. I would never want to scare her, I just protect her, I just want to protect them both. Anyways we made to our room and she decided she didn’t want to come so I tried to get dressed and ended wanting to kick myself because the only bra I packed was my sports bra. Oh well , I thought I wasn’t there for that. The social worker who I had conversing with showed up on time and we made our way to Sea-Tac airport. Now that I think about it that whole presentation was more about labor trafficking so I wonder why they chose me I don’t know anything about labor trafficking. Everything was fine when all the people were there for the first press conference. And my only rule was not to be in any pictures with police because that’s dangerous and I haven’t met any good police. But right at the end someone said lets take a photo and before you know it I’m in a photo with police and signing a paper that didn’t even have my name on it. All for show. On the way out a journalist asked me a question that I can’t quite recall but I do remember my answer and that was to “set survivor’s up for success not failure.”

Safe to say in the next portion of the presentation none of the big wigs were there and the audience well they were totally different. Comprised of what I assume were airport workers. I felt like they were mean mugging me. I started stuttering I absolutely bomed, couldn’t get my words out, it was bad. But in the end, I was promised that I would be able to redeem myself the following year, so I kept a hold to that only to find out that she had switched positions and was no longer in charge. I tried to get a copy of the 2nd speech and the social worker that worked for the Port just stopped responding when I asked her to keep her word and allow me another chance to redeem myself. I later was told that they lost the filming of my speeches due to hacking 2 years ago. So, I’ll never fully know how bad or good I did, or have a copy, which now I’m thinking is a good thing. But I’m left wondering why did the choose me for that and it was more about Labor trafficking. I felt used and thrown away. I felt like there was some narrative that I didn’t know about and yea, I don’t think that money was good money which is why I just spent on my daughter at the mall even though I needed it for rent…lol

3 + year later….

As I clocked out from work I thought it would be best not to head to the airport early but to sit in the break room while and try to gather my nerves. I had a bad feeling about this trip to Oregon and to court; specifically. the airport. I hadn’t had the best experiences with Airports. It’s been like that since 2023 now that I remember. Someone tried to break into my car while it was parked at PDX airport. No, they did break in but didn’t steal anything. Instead, they caused my car battery to die from the alarm going off for awhile which required me to get a jump when I got back to Portland airport. The funny part is that it was parked in a well-lit and heavily traveled area. Then there was that time when my crotch area lit up like a Christmas tree in their x-ray machine. As the TSA agent laughed and pointed to my crotch area all I could do was laugh right along with them. But I was crying on the inside. I have been crying on the inside for as long as I can remember. Then I had to get the full pat down but also my hair as well. What the hair on my head had to do with my crotch area I have no clue. I wanted to run and hide on the plane.

Then there was the time I was leaving Refuge for Women Las Vegas after I was assaulted, and then lied on and kicked out for having a trauma response to being assaulted. In addition to that, I believe I had to leave because I did not want to go back to their church anymore. Not after the pastor insulted the survivor and then the survivor took it out on me after residents encouraged her too. All of this I explained would happen but they said “she said she wasn’t really going to do anything to you she was just upset” they said. Ha. After being rushed and going to the airport me and the young lady who drove me were stopped at the entrance to TSA for like 15 minutes while they said something was wrong with her ID. During that time alarms started going off I had never witnessed anything like that before. If something was wrong with her ID why didn’t she just let me go and not have to sit there while sirens went off for what felt like forever. The whole time I was expecting the police to come take me away and I didn’t do anything, it was a nightmare. Then there was the multiple times my stuff had been gone through and damaged.

But this time, this time trumped all of them. As I waited in the break room to my new job (thank you Jesus for always providing). When asked why I was still there as I had sat there for 2 hours, I explained to my Lead that my anxiety was high, and I was afraid of going to the airport. I made little chit chat about bringing my mace and how Alaska was the only airline that allowed you too. I tried to type a little bit and then I called my Lyft to take me to the stop before the airport because anything coming or going to the airport cost $20 extra. It was only because of the donations to my Go Fund Me that I was able to take the trip to go to court. Mind you this was my 2nd lawyer for this charge as well (that makes 6 lawyers, 1 new DA, and 3 separate charges) and all these court dates were a lot to keep up with. Finally, making it to the airport the hairs on my arms were standing at attention. Practicing self-regulation I prayed, imagined my happy place and “sent my angels out,” like my momma always used to say. Why did this airport have to be so big I thought as I was told to “take a train to a bus to get to my gate.” Walking back outside after taking the train inside I was maybe 10 feet away when I made eye contact with the shuttle, waved my hand and he pulled away from the curb. Now I’m waiving like I’m stranded on a island signaling for help, which I really was because of the heat and the driver pointed back towards the stop; I guess as a way to say catch the next one. Defeated, I walked over to the stop to look for the next one. 2 more shuttles that were not my shuttle had passed by when I decided that the heat was too much. Walking over to the closest entry I waited by the door couldn’t have been but 2 minutes when low and behold there came my shuttle. Running as fast as I could with my luggage and back pack in tow I made it to the shuttle and eventually got out the heat.

Once I arrived, I went into the first entrance I saw but was told I needed to go out that entrance and into the next building which I did. Looking for Alaska, I felt relieved once I had my ticket and bag checked. I asked for a wheelchair because I just couldn’t manage my nerves. I had been given some medicine the last time I went to the ER because I couldn’t stop crying but they couldn’t give me anything stronger unless I went to the free state clinic, so I had been praying through it. Once the wheelchair came, he was a friendly man who got me to the gate with the quickness. Right by the Love Shack. How funny every time I fly out in Dallas, I’m flying from this gate. I immediately noticed there was a long line to the gate so I thanked the guy who got me there sat my stuff down and got in line to see if I could get on the plane early when a gentleman ahead of me said “my flight got canceled, I’m trying to see if I can get another one.” Wait, what, this couldn’t be my flight I had just checked in and made it to the gate in 20 minutes and it is canceled already. Finally, I made my way to the front of the line and waited to be called forward. I was next but the guy at the gate motioned to the person behind me to come forward. “Excuse me sir but I was next” I said. Stepping forward I asked about my flight and sure enough it had been canceled that quickly. I need to make it there tonight I said, and my luggage is checked in, what am I going to do. Looking at me with little emotion he said, “hold on” and begin typing for what felt like 7 minutes. Then he picked up the phone and called someone asking about rooms for at least 4. Finally, my anxiety couldn’t take it. “Am I going to be able to get on a flight,” I said with tears running down my eyes. Beau responded sure, “I’m going to send you to LA and then from LA you can have a connecting flight that will take you to Portland….

“What about my luggage?” “You will be traveling American Airlines and they are our partners, your luggage will be taken care of, you won’t have to pay an additional fee, and your connecting flight is in the same terminal, so you won’t be late.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I got you.” Beau said with a smile. “Ok, do you mind calling for a wheelchair again, I can’t navigate this again?” “Sure, have a seat over there, one will be here shortly.” “Thank you” I said as I made my way back to my seat. Some time went by and a woman came to get me. I saw her first, so I walked over to her and gave her my ticket information. She then explained to me that she “didn’t know where to go.” Tears begin to well up in my eyes again as I looked in her eyes and saw hate. Getting up out of the chair I asked her to come with me so she could be told where to go. Half walking and waiving to Beau, I asked him to “please explain to her where to take me.” I don’t remember exactly what he said but we were soon on our way to American airlines going at a snail’s pace. I begin to get worried I was gonna miss it because as I understood “they were boarding in 30 minutes’’ and I still needed to get my bag out of Alaska and go to American get tickets re check my bag then go to the American gate. I don’t know if it was me or the young lady pushing me, but when I say I do believe if I walked, I could have gotten there faster. My knee wasn’t hurting yet and I didn’t have my bags. But before I could make an executive decision we made it to Alaska Baggage claim right in time to see my bag go by. Getting up as fast as I could I attempted to prevent it from having to circle twice and in doing so I injured my side (again), but I pushed forward. Getting back in the wheelchair the passenger support agent stated that she would not be taking me to the American gate because she worked for Alaska and with that we departed once I made it to the gate.

After waiting in line for about 10 minutes, it was finally my turn. After explaining how my flight had been canceled and I was transferred to American, she begins typing and asked for my driver’s license. Handing it to her I explained that I “also had a carry one.” “That will be $65 dollars.” “But I don’t have $65 dollars, and I already paid for my baggage with Alaska.” “You paid with Alaska, were not Alaska, we are American.” I know that but the guy at the gate said y’all were partners and it would transfer over.” “I’m sorry I don’t know who told you that, but we don’t do that.” “Can you call him?” “Call who?” “The guy at the gate.” “We don’t have any way to do that; you’re more than welcome to go back there and speak to him.” “But I will miss my flight if I do that and the money, I have is for my rental car.” “I’m sorry we cant do; we can’t waive that for you.” With tears in my eyes, I handed over my debit card and paid for luggage again. “Can you call for a passenger assistant please?” “sure, you can wait over there,” she said as she pointed to a row of chairs filled with people. Grabbing my ticket and backpack I walked to the chairs and noticed an empty one behind a lady’s dog crate. Do you mind moving that so I’m able to sit down?” “Sure,” she said, as she moved the crate that took up 2 seats. Sitting down in the one furthest from her I begin to worry I was going to miss the plain when a young woman who was eating came up to me and asked me was I waiting for help. Yes, I said, handing her my ticket. Sitting in the wheelchair with my backpack in front of me the young lady who said her name was “Naida” begin to move than stopped. “I don’t know where that’s at my tablet isn’t working.” Looking at her I begin to shake inside. “What do you mean your tablet isn’t working?” “I think the battery ran out.” She said as she wiped the crumbs from her mouth some of them fell on me and the floor. Standing up I shook myself off and put my hands on my head. “Why did you come and get me if you have a tablet that doesn’t work?” I said as I sat my backpack in the chair. This time I handed her my ticket so she could get a better look. Shaking her head she said, “I still don’t know.” “ok, ok, you coming with me up here, tell the lady at the front that you don’t know how to get me to this gate right here on here on this ticket. Without looking at her I marched back up to the counter to get assistance by the time I made it I turned around and she was still standing by the wheelchair about 15 feet away. “Ma’am the lady you called to help assist me to the gate doesn’t know how to read the ticket.”

“Huh, the agent said, “Yeah you heard me right she said she doesn’t know how to read the ticket and I was wondering can you help her?” By then the young woman made it to the front counter and I walked back to the wheelchair because I couldn’t explain it to her. Sitting down I waited for her to make her way back to me. “Do you know where you’re going now?” “Yea, sort of my tablet still doesn’t work.” I just shook my head in amazement as I didn’t think this could get any worse and we hadn’t even left Dallas yet. Tears began to fall again as I noticed she was walking slowly. Then she begins to clink her bracelet or something against the back of the chair. I turned up the ear pods so that I could try to down out the noise when we turned another corner, she made a right instead of taking a left where it said it was towards our gate. Turning down the music I asked her, “what she was doing?” she said, “my boss is right there, and I need to ask him something.” “What do you mean we need to go or I’m going to miss my flight?” Crying openly now she pushed me to him and said something in another language. “Please sir can you tell her to take me to my gate?” Holding up her I-pad she says “this doesn’t work I don’t know where it’s at.” Chewing his food he said “take her,” and with that she turned the wheelchair around and off we were at a snails pace to my gate. With the tapping on the back of the chair of her bracelet I just turned my music back up and cried and prayed in silence. Eventually we made it to the gate right while they were boarding. I got up out the chair and Lord forgive me I didn’t even say thank you. I should’ve said thank you, but I couldn’t. Walking up to the desk I was told that they were waiting for something and that I would be able to join soon.

After standing there for a while another lady came up and showed her ticket and the lady let her on. “Oh” I said, “were able to board now” and then the lady said yes, so I showed her my ticket and found my seat. On the plane I seen that my seat was in an isle row and I couldn’t silently cry anymore. I went to the back of the airplane and asked for water and if they had another seat that wasn’t directly in the aisle because I didn’t have people going by me. The flight attendant said that she would ask for me and for me to ask as well and I sat down and ugly cried for about 5 minutes. The flight attendants were really nice they gave me something to eat and checked on me periodically. I asked the lady sitting next to me if it was ok for us to switch seats and she said yes. I was so emotionally exhausted that I fell asleep and before you know it, were in L.A. I wasn’t happy about this. Again, I had a feeling this wasn’t right, but I prayed and I maintained. Once I got my backpack and everyone before me had deboarded, I made my way off the airplane and right when I got past the desk I realized I was supposed to take one of the wheelchairs that was waiting for me. I asked the gentleman dressed in American waiting by the desk if he knew “where my flight connection was?” He said, “oh you’re all the way over there you better or you’re not going to make it.” “But I was told it was in this terminal?” With a smirk on his face, he said they change that all the time.” “Do you know where the wheelchairs are? “You don’t have time for that and there aren’t any here, all you have to do is go straight then take a left” and honestly, I couldn’t follow him pas the left when he was pointing out the window across what looked like the tarmac. I asked him to please repeat what he just said because I didn’t understand how to get there on my own and I didn’t know LA’s airport as I hadn’t been there but maybe twice. The guy who I assumed was a desk agent tried one more time to explain to me how to get to my gate “or I was going to be late.” Then out of what looked like exhaustion he said, “you just don’t understand, I’m trying to tell you and your listening.’ Walking away from me towards the entrance of the airplane I followed because I still needed to know how to get to my gate when at least 3 of the agents said “stop” you can’t come back this way.” “Pointing to the guy who I was trying to get directions from I said “well he won’t tell me how to get there and I don’t know where my wheelchair is” when a shorter man came rolling out with a wheelchair I felt some relief. Holding out my hand “Sir, can you please take me to my gate?” He took one look at me and was like “No, you’re not the person I’m supposed to pick up.” “Where is the person you’re supposed to pick up, he’s not here.” We both looked around and then he said, “I’m late for lunch, I can’t take you.” “Please sir, I don’t know my way around and I had a wheelchair I just must’ve missed it”

Sitting in his chair, I restated that I needed help and I showed him my tickets and where I was going. “This is too far, you’re better off just walking, we can’t perform miracles here,” he said as he refused to move the wheelchair. Both the male and female flight attendance looked at us and I looked at them for some kind of help but they just started walking away. “Please sir, I need your help I need you to take me to my gate.” “I’m telling you, you would be a lot faster if you would just walk.” He said as he begin to push the chair. I guess he called his supervisor because he begin to explain how he was going to drop me off somewhere and take his break, “there’s nothing wrong with her she can walk, she just doesn’t know the airport and I’ve already pushed my break back 30 minutes.” Crying now, I begged please sir, just take me to the terminal as he stopped pushing the chair and bent down closer to my ear again and said. “I’m telling you we don’t do miracles here your going to miss your flight, get up and walk there’s nothing wrong with you.” Crying, I said “you don’t get to tell me what’s wrong with me, you don’t know” I said through tears. Slamming down his tablet behind me he begin to push again all the while mumbling under his breath that “I was going to miss the flight and I should just walk it would be faster. He must’ve stopped at least 3 times in an effort to get me to get out of the wheelchair with profanity and his opinions regarding my ability when we finally made it to the line to the bus that would take me across the tarmac. “Here you can get there quicker from here,” he said. But can’t you go on the bus I said through tears as I looked at him. No, you will go much faster if you get out of the chair. I was so embrarrased as their was a line of people and other gate agents that just sat there and watched him say how I should get up and walk to the bus. Finally I just got up crying I walked out to the bus and got on it and broke down again in an ugly cry when he came on the bus. I don’t quite remember what exactly happened after that but I think he blamed me for getting out of the chair and I’m sure I asked him would he want his mom to be treated that way and then he got silent. By the time I made it to the gate someone else asked me if I wanted a supervisor but I just wanted to get on the plane. Julio was his name.

Getting on the plane I noticed it was a very small plane and my environmental sensitivity was already on 10 from the constant spraying at my job so I asked the flight attendant if there was another seat that wasn’t in the back because the back seemed to have the most fumes and her response was to tell me “its not that bad, is it just in the beginning or will you notice it the whole time. After the 3rd time of trying to ask her to see about a different seat she finally looked and said I could sit in a different seat. Sitting down I just cried some more and closed my eyes and put on my mask. Once I made it to Portland, I found out that my luggage had been lost but that they would do their best to find it and take it to the motel where I was staying. Once I got to the rental I found I didn’t have enough money for it anymore because of the subsequent cost so I caught the train then a lyft to my room and cried myself to sleep so I could try to be prepared for court that I didn’t cause, Lord help me

*My deepest apologies, I do apologize about the verbiage, spelling errors, bad or no transitions, I just needed to get this out before the next thing happens. I am going through so much day after day, I have had multiple times where I can’t stop crying because it’s so much, but writing is my safe place, write or die, and this isn’t one of my best writings but I need to get it out. I have another court date I have to go to and another flight and I don’t know why it feels like the world hates me. I know I haven’t did anything to deserve this treatment, the loss, the pain, the betrayal, the reactive abuse from everyone. I do know that God will have his glory from this though, I do know that everything that I have every had or will have is because of him and if he can give it to me he can take it away. I thank you God for these lessons and who you will help with my story.

Proverbs 16:8 (KJV)

“Better is a little with righteousness than great revenues without right.”

Amen

References:

Port Allies Against Human Trafficking Pledge
https://www.portseattle.org/news/port-leaders-sign-pledge-against-human-trafficking
Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
https://books.google.com/books/about/Care_Work.html?id=QDFbDwAAQBAJ4

What We Don’t Know About Domestic Violence Can Kill Us by Rachel Louise Snyder
https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/no-visible-bruises-9781635570984/

Trauma And Recovery by Judith Lewis Herman, M.D.
https://archive.org/details/traumarecovery0000herm/page/n3/mode/1up?utm_source=gemini&hl=en-US

Girls Like Us by Rachel Lloyd
https://archive.org/details/girlslikeusfight0000lloy?utm_source=gemini&hl=en-us

Dignity a Journal of Analysis of Exploitation and Violence: Disability and Human Trafficking Prevention Education and Professional Training
Disability and Human Trafficking: Prevention Education and Professional Training

Treating the Hidden Wounds: Trauma Treatment and Mental Health Recovery for Victims of Human Trafficking
Treating the Hidden Wounds: Trauma Treatment and Mental Health Recovery for Victims of Human Trafficking | ASPE

Violence Prevention: Hidden Harms Supporting IPV With Brain Injuries
TBI IPV Hidden Harms | VetoViolence

Journal of Public and Non-Profit Affairs: Exploitation or Empowerment
View of Empowerment or Exploitation? Ethical Engagement of Survivor Leaders in Anti-Trafficking Organizations

Empowerment and Employment of Survivors of Human Trafficking: A Business Guide
Empowerment and Employment of Survivors of Human Trafficking: A Business Guide | Reports | Sustainable Business Network and Advisory Services | BSR

September 26, 2026Everything's Bigger in TexasJoyclyn

Heal or Jail, Write or Die….A survivor’s memoir in pursuit of the healing society said she needed, Ep. 3, Pt.2., Refuge For Women (Texas): Wise County Crazy

(Journal Entry September 17th, 2026)

Thank you, God, because of you I woke up today, thank you for changing me, changing my heart. Because of you I have grown into a caliber of Woman that I never thought was even possible and I’m still growing. Because of you I keep passing these tests and if I may say you are the best teacher, tutor and study buddy I’ve ever had. Because of you my needs continue to be met, sometimes even my wants, and I’m so thankful. Anything I’m given is because of you, any money I earn is because of you, any door that opens or closes is because of you; and although I don’t always understand it, I’m learning to come to you about it and endure. Because of you I have patience. Because of you I have Joy in the midst of unbelievable trials and betrayal beyond measure. A year ago, today I was released from Wise County after serving close to a month in solitaire confinement for seeking help, for seeking healing, and for going to the hospital for an allergic reaction in a State and County that saw it fit for me to be incarcerated instead of in a place of healing. But God, because of you, I made it through what felt like torture and punishment. When it is all said and done and you decide to bring me home, it will be because of you; and no one else and you will forever be My Jehovah-Jireh, my Yahweh; The Lord will see to it; The Lord who provides, I’m so blessed!

About a year ago….

I turned around following the officers’ orders and allowed him to put me in handcuffs. Everything seemed so surreal. I immediately became scared of being pulled down the steps, so I made sure to do exactly everything that he said the way he said it. Even repeating it just to make sure that was what he wanted me to do. How did my stuff show up right when I was being arrested, that was crazy, I thought to myself. I did my best to remain calm but all I could think about was Sandra Bland. “Please don’t Sandra Bland me I said, these handcuffs are too tight, can you loosen them?” “They’re not too tight,” the officer replied. “We don’t have far to go to get to the station. I tried to be hopeful as we pulled out of the parking lot of Medical City, Decatur hospital. I would tell the correction officer that I was a survivor and what happened and they would release me on my own recognizances. I would maybe do a night; I could deal with one night, I thought to myself. The officer was right we pulled up to a small seemingly brown building in what couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes. “What is this is this the Jail?” “This is Wise County; it’s the Jail for Decatur and surrounding areas.” “When will I see the judge?” (I don’t quite remember the exact name the officer used but he we will just call him jail administrator). “You can ask the jail administrator when you get booked.” “Oh, ok,” I responded as I waited in the back of the police car, the officer pulled all my suitcases out of the back of the squad car in addition to what looked like black plastic bags I assumed were filled with the stuff they couldn’t pack up.

“Am I able to check and see if my mom’s alabaster box is there, and the bible she gave me, and I need my mask, and my letter that says my disability, please?” “I’m not the one you ask, but if you act right, it shouldn’t be a problem.” We went through one door where we were met by a guard and that led to a small hallway that had 2 cells immediately to the right and an open space that was surrounded by cells, benches, and hallways that led to various parts of the building. I was told to sit down to the left while he checked me in asking again if he “could bring my suitcases with him to the station,” while I was being housed here. After asking at least three times about storing my things one of the correctional guards replied that “they would have room in one of the storages” back there. Realizing that the long term storage of my things meant I wouldn’t be getting out as quickly as I thought, the officer sat down behind the counter directly in front of me and begin asking me intake questions. To my left there was a group of Mexicans speaking Spanish one of whom was staring at me intensely and without thinking I told him to “take a picture because it would last longer” as the C.O. waived his hand at the Mexican stating “No.” looking back at me he shook his head and repeated “no” as he pushed my intake papers towards me.

“I have a mask, I need to wear my mask, and I have a Dr.’s note about my environmental sensitivity, can you get it out of my stuff?” “I don’t see why not as long as you behave.” He said shuffling my papers making sure I signed everything. “You’re going to have to take a shower in that room, and then you will change,” he said as he pointed behind him and I asked again, “when will I see the judge?” “The judge will be back tomorrow.” “The judge comes here I don’t go to a courtroom?” “That’s different.” I said as he walked away to find my Dr.’s note in my belongings. Returning with the envelope and my now tattered mask he explained that “I would not be able to wear the N95 mask but one of their masks instead.” Pushing a stiff light blue mask with a small metal bar on it with no ventilation, my direction; I reluctantly took it imagining what it would be like trying to breathe out of it. “Ok, but your sure the judge comes on a Sunday? “Yes” he said as he stood up. “What size do you wear?” “I’m a large.” “Ok,” he said as he walked towards a row of jail house clothes and what looked like a sheet and a washcloth all combined. Bending down he grabbed a mat and went into a different room and emerged with clothes pointing towards the door where I was to take my shower. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready to come out.” Grabbing the bundle of clothes, I went into the cell that housed a metal mirror, sink, attached toilet, chair, and a shower, and showered and changed into jailhouse stripes. After knocking on the door, a correctional guard opened it and pointed me towards the holding cell next to the entrance that the officer and I had came through. Once inside I could tell this was the cell that they probably put people who were intoxicated as it reeked of vomit, and urine and had no benches.

Pushing my mat towards the wall I used part of it to cover the huge drain I was partly on top of and I used the other half to cover the wall so I wouldn’t be touching it or the mystery stains that decorated it. Exhausted from everything, I tucked my pants into my socks that one of the correctional officers allowed me to grab out of my belongings and my shirt into my pants and closed my eyes. Feeling fluttering on my face I attempted to open both my eyes and while one of them opened the other one felt fluttering resistance. Finally opening my left eye I seen the biggest bug I had ever seen battling its wings against my eyelashes and I screamed and as I screamed, I came out of everything I was wearing including my socks. “Hey quiet it down,” the guard yelled as he banged on the only window into my cell. “There’s a fucking bug on me!” I screamed as I pulled off another piece of clothing and stepped on it. “Help me, what the fuck kind of bug was that, it was as big as my head?” Now naked and crying I banged back on the door “I need another pair of clothes, there was bugs on that,” “I’m not giving you nothing until you stop screaming and crying!” the new guard said. Trying to stop crying I rocked back and forth still naked I was now afraid to touch anything in the cell so I just cried and turned in circles looking for the next dinosaur of a bug to jump on me. “Please sir, I can’t stop crying, please I need some more clothes?” Finally, with what sounded like his last nerves he screamed “What size are you?” from the other side of the room. “Large, please a large.” I said half crying and trying to see out of the window. Eventually the guard came back and handed me clothes. No longer ashamed I quickly grabbed and put them on as he closed the door he told me to “Let him know when I had put on my clothes.”

Banging on the door to signal I was ready, the guard motioned with one hand across the administrative area as he popped the door using his key with the other. Still crying I half ran out of the cell I was in, into a bigger one with benches. This one at least had something I could sit on. After scanning the bench and attached wall for a spot that seemed like the cleanest, I retucked my clothes and got as comfortable as I could on metal benches. Still crying but quieter I tried self-soothing techniques to get myself to stop, none of them worked. Eventually I was allowed 2 phone calls and a chance to see the judge and so I was allowed out of the cell into the administrative area. As I explained my situation to the C.O. who I’m assuming was a part of pre-release I was sure that they would understand and let me go. “I’m a survivor, I was at a place for healing, a shelter, when I had an allergic reaction and they didn’t help me then, nor after which caused me to be trespassed from the hospital I sought services from that I had no idea where I was at.” I went on to say I had my driver’s license, my passport, my social security card, I just didn’t have a place to stay yet as my “Mom had just passed a few months earlier.” Finally, I was told to stand at the very end of the administrative counter and the judge would see me. Walking a few steps to the end one of what I assumed were correctional guards turned around and asked me my name. Oh, this was the judge, very different than what I was used to, “yes your honor and I’m a survivor and I don’t belong in jai”…. Cutting me off he said, “I need to make sure you are who you say you are.” “You have a 500 bond,” Wait, your honor I’m having a reaction I shouldn’t be in jail.” Cutting me off again he said “you were strong enough to….” And then he stopped mid-sentence. “That’s it, I’m finished,” and with that a C.O. stepped forward and motioned his had to the bench on the other side of the administrative area. “He’s done, your gonna get yourself in trouble you keep running off at the mouth, you have a $500 bail or you wait for court that’s your options.”

“But I don’t belong in here, I’m a survivor, please don’t make me stay in here.” “It’s not up to me; you saw the judge now you can have your phone calls.” Pulling out the list of numbers I was able to write down before they took my phone away again, I began trying to call both my daughters and none of them answered. Finally, trying my cousin I told him briefly what happened to me without sounding too crazy as I was still halfway crying and hadn’t grasped the magnitude of what I had just survived. The more I tried to listen the louder the administrative area became as they began horse playing, even throwing the small football they had behind the desk. I had already gotten on their bad side as I had filled out a grievance already and had been threatened with more time in holding if I didn’t stop crying and being loud and now here, they were making way more noise than I was able to and I couldn’t help it. Holding back the tears and holding up my hand I tried asking them to “hold it down” and they looked at me and just kept on playing. Trying my best to yell and explain where I was at, I called a friend and he said, “you better get out of there,” not realizing the gravity of being in wise county I foolishly said I can ride it out, it’s just a trespassing charge I should be able to get some kind of help.” And I would get help alright, but not the kind that releases you from jail. Back in the holding cell I realized that one side of the cell would get colder than the other because of the vent over head so I would move accordingly. I also got to know the gentlemen that were at the other end of the vent as they would randomly yell obscenities through the vent in an attempt to express some misplaced anger they were experiencing. Finally, I was told to wait in the hallway as I was being introduced to the jail and would no longer have to be in the holding. It had been 2 days, and I was still in holding. As I went and lined up on the bench a female C.O. looked at me from down the hallway and marched over to me without saying one word she snatched my mask off. “I need that I have an environmental disability and I could get sick and end up in the hospital.”

“Sit back down right now before I put you back in holding, I don’t see where you have to wear it and I need to see you for identification purposes,” sitting my now crumpled mask down on the counter she turned her back towards me and laughed with another correctional officer. Sitting back down, I did my best to remain calm as I still had tears occasionally coming from eyes I tried to think happy thoughts. I shouldn’t have a hard time breathing in here C.O.’s didn’t wear a lot of perfume; I thought, I thought I would be ok. Eventually it was my turn to grab a new mat and bedding and I was led to what was to be my new home without the mask I was given for my environmental disability. The entrance to the cell was filled with circle tables and stools that were made of metal then the bathroom and tv suspended in the air to the left. To the right was another door that led to a series of cells on each side with a table, an attached toilet and sink, and top and bottom bunks. At the end of the hallway was another door. Looking around I went into each room as they were all unlocked and eventually, I settled on the cell to the right that was closest to the door that I had originally entered through. Every 15 minutes a female C.O. would come in and walk all the way to the door that led to the cells and press a red button. It was about the 3rd round that I had experienced when the C.O. poked her head in the cell across the way and spoke. “Someone is in there?” I asked. “Yes, she is sleep, if she wakes up let her know she can get a razor.” “Ok, I thought I was in here by myself.” Making my bed on the bottom bunk I changed my mind and decided to put it on the top because I had no clue who or what was in that other cell. Eventually dinner arrived and the guard came in and sat down 2 trays and 2 cups filled with what looked like water. Grabbing my tray and moving it to the next table over I picked through it before coming to the conclusion that I wasn’t hungry.

Eventually a light skinned slender young woman with braids emerged from the row of cells half-asleep and grabbed the remaining tray and sat down. “Do you want mine?” I said as I slid it towards her. Shaking her head in agreement she grabbed the tray and sat back down. This happened at least 3 more times before our conversation progressed past pleasantries. Eventually she explained that she had been in Wise County for a month and a half and had been in “2 different cells where she had gotten into it both times, with the last time being accused of stealing something” that resulted in her being put in here by herself until I came. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” “It’s ok, she was the tank boss, it happens.” She said as she walked over to tablets placed in holders on the wall. Pulling one out she turned it on and moved it in the air in an attempt to get coverage. “These don’t work, none of these work, I’ve tried.” “Well, then how do you speak to someone?” “You send a letter, I guess.” “I have been complaining and they haven’t done anything yet.” I’m not sure how long I spent in that cell, but long enough to go to the yard a few times and I’m assuming you would go every other day. The first time I went to the yard by myself as my celly said that she “couldn’t go because she didn’t get along with the girl in a certain unit. Once I got to the gym area I recognized it as being where one of the C.O.’s had let me go to get some fresh air when I was in the holding tank. Grabbing the ball, I walked to the toilet and sink area and turned on the water and put my hands underneath it. This was much colder than the water in my cell I thought as I dropped the bal and cupped my hands to grab a mouth full of water. Walking around the yard bouncing the ball I began to regulate my nervous system as much as possible. I could hear what sounded like a freeway through the vents above me. There was a vent above me on each side but one seemed to have cold air coming from it and one just sound, the sound of roaring cars because sometimes it sounded just like a freeway. I shouldn’t be in here much longer, I hoped as I circled occasionally bouncing shooting the ball into the basket as I rounded each side.

The door opened and 2 women entered and walked around the opposite sides until we eventually met in the middle, when the white girl asked, “what sign I was” thinking it deeper than it actually was I thought it best to say a “child of God,” instead of saying a Virgo. The white girl nodded with approval while the Mexican girl just smiled. Looking at them both I decided that it had been the white girl that my celly probably had the issue with because the Mexican girl couldn’t speak English as the white girl spoke to her completely in Spanish. After a few more rounds the guard waved to me from the other side to line up by the door. Doing as I was told I was led back to the cell I shared with “Elizabeth,” that was her name. Once I got inside the C.O. walked over to the entrance of the row of cells and said “y’all are both about to get moved and I don’t want no trouble out of either of you, any trouble and you come right back here.” “I don’t cause trouble ma’am I’m trying to get out, but I hear you.” Eventually she came back. I’m not sure if it was day or night as there were no windows in the cell nor anyway to tell what time of day it was because the tablets didn’t work. As we were both led to the new cell everyone was asleep. Looking at the clock that this cell had I could see it was well into the afternoon, but everyone was still asleep. Immediately, Elizabeth moved her stuff on the floor closest to the door. I saw 2 open bunks, and I tried to motion to her to grab one she shook me off and quietly said she was “fine on the floor.” Grabbing a bottom bunk I quickly made my bed and quietly lay down until everyone else woke up.

A few hours later I heard someone come over and quietly tap on the glass signaling the guard. I looked up and saw that it was the older lady. We made eye contact and she gave me a small smile that I returned. As soon as the rest of the ladies saw her moving around, I noticed they did as well. I remained on my bed and tried to motion to Elizabeth who didn’t even move when the older lady got up nor did she look once everyone started moving around. Shortly after that lunch or dinner arrived and they all got in line with the older lady in the front. Walking over to the pallet on the floor I gently tapped the end of the mat to see if she would wake up. After the 3rd time she begin to move. “The food is here, are you eating?” Shaking her head in agreement she began to stretch, and I got in line. I didn’t understand how everyone just slept all the time, but they did. I was the only one sitting down at the table as everyone went back to their bunk, including Elizabeth, whose pallet was still on the floor even though there were open bunks. After a few moments after speaking with the other ladies the older lady came back over and put everything, I assumed that they didn’t want on the table for grabs. Grabbing all the sugar free Kool-Aid packets without thinking I turned towards Elizabeth and pushed everything I didn’t want towards her. She looked over at the group of women who didn’t return the look and then she grabbed the remaining stuff. Thinking that was weird I didn’t pay too much mind. That night we all bonded on what brought us there including Elizabeth. There was one lady who was from a different county but everyone seemed to be there on drug crimes except me. We prayed together and one of the girls even let me borrow her bible because she “had 2.”

I’m not sure how much time went by but it couldn’t have been more than 2 days. One of the ladies from another county got moved and although there were multiple bunks Elizabeth did not want to get on one. I now know it was because of the older lady, and her small crew but I didn’t at the time. Seeing it was a good time to try to use the bathroom I went over and wiped down the toilet seat, laid out the tissue as a makeshift toilet seat cover and sat down when here comes the older lady all in my space trying to hold a conversation while I’m still on the toilet. I froze, I knew this wasn’t jail house etiquette but what could I do. Getting off the toilet the older lady was forced to give me some room. As I turned to wash my hands she came back making more idle chit chat so I thought it would be a good time to advocate for myself, “hey do you think you could not come over to the toilet while I’m sitting on it?” The look on her face was like I had just asked her to go against her morales. She shook her head but it wasn’t in a sure way, it was in a no fucking way, way. I let it go, what else could I do. I just needed to get out. I had finally gotten some commissary thanks to my cousin putting a few dollars on my books but that was all. So I used the paper form because the tablets did not work in this cell either (or because they kept the ones that worked and the other ones that weren’t quickly snatched up did not so I now had a pen and some paper). Nothing seemed to work even the pens quickly dried up it was like I was trapped. The women’s stories didn’t help much as they spoke of being in here for 6-7 months without having a hearing. Hearing that I wanted to cry but I heard it together. I hadn’t even tried to call anyone since being in the holding tank and couldn’t because I was told they didn’t work and when I tried it just seemed like the battery was dead.

Eventually the guard had came back to give me a TB test. I had stood firm that I didn’t want anything poking me while I was in jail so they had said they would have to take me to the very hospital I had been trespassed from in order to do the x-ray. The other female guard the one who had taken my mask seemed super pissed about having to take me like it was on her shift or something. After waiting in the holding cell maybe an hour a Mexican officer showed up to transport me to Medical City. He was very nice and not so bad looking either. After putting on the shackles on my hands and feet he agreed to keep the windows rolled down so that I could get some fresh air and he let me get another mask to bring with me. I think it was my birthday that day but I can’t recall exactly. When we got to the hospital it was eerily quiet. Like the waiting room looked nothing like it did when I had been there a few days earlier. There was one person at the desk no one in the waiting area and Roby wasn’t in his security office. We walked down the long hallway and I could tell that someone had just sprayed perfume so I put on my mask as he directed me to the business offices to the right. I remember the receptionists name “Anna” because she was kind of cocky. Like almost condescending to my situation but I let it go. After giving my details for billing we went into the medical offices across the way through a hallway and to where they take x-rays. After finishing we walked into the lobby of the x-ray office and there was a little kid who stopped to look at me shackled in jail house stripes. Embarrassed but at the same time not, I bent down and told him to “be sure not to trespass at a hospital you are seeking help from, make sure you have someone with you.” And with that we headed back to Wise County Jail. Once I got back in my cell I seen that the bible that I was allowed to use was no longer on my bed. I walked over to her bunk and asked her did she “take it back” and her response was that it was “hers and to get away from her bunk.” “Ok,” I said, what else could I say. Stepping on the bench so I could sit on the table and see the tv better I tried to not let my thoughts overtake me. I could feel panic developing in my stomach and I thought it be a good idea to pace to calm myself. Getting off the table I guess made too much noise because the older lady got up and stomped all the way to the button and pressed it saying that I was stomping. “Wait, what?”

“Get her out of here, she’s causing problems with everyone in here.” “Wait, I am?” I said not believing how fast everything in the cell had went left as now both Elizabeth and the other girl who took her bible back were all standing in unison and in agreement. Looking at Elizabeth, I was really confused. She had finally moved on to a bunk right next to the older lady so apparently, I was the odd woman out now. Calmly I tried to speak to the female guard who acted as if this had been going on for a while. “I told you, if you acted up what would happen!” “Yea, but I haven’t done anything.” “You’re sitting here arguing with me.” “Am I, I thought we were communicating?” At that point a male correctional officer came in “I just asked y’all over the intercom to be quiet and get along and you’re still going that’s it I’m moving you.” With my hand on my chest I backed up “Wait, why, I didn’t do anything but get off of the table it’s close to 1, I wasn’t trying to be loud.” “But you were,” he said as he motioned for me to turn around as he put me in hand cuffs he quickly pushed me out of the unit with the woman C.O. behind him and across the hall, he opened a door to a small cell that was absolutely filthy with bloody pads and food and wrappers everywhere. “It’s dirty in here,” I said now in tears. “Clean it,” he said pushing me in with a mop and a broom and closing the door behind me. Standing there I just cried as I listened to them laugh. Afraid to touch anything I scooted some debris off of the table and sat there for a while and continued to cry. There was no phone, no tablet and all my bedding was still in the other room. How did I get here, I thought. Almost like clockwork the fan turned on above me and the female guard came back with my bedding. I just looked at her this time as I was afraid to say anything. Soon as the fan turned on my new neighbors begin to welcome me with obscenities to which the C.O. came and yelled at me to “stop yelling.” “Do you think I could get some gloves?” I asked through the opening of the door. “No, we don’t give inmates gloves.” She spoke. “Just do the best you can.” I soon learned that the air coming out of the vent wasn’t cool, it was heat. Taking off my top I had on my sports bra, and I begin to pace and cry and cry and pace to the occasional niggers and bitches from my neighbors and the 15-minute intervals that came with a clank of the metal door opening and closing.

It would be a few days before I was able to get out of the cell for yard and for bible study. I think out of the whole time I went to bible study twice and the yard maybe 3 times. I spent most of the time writing when my pen worked and I eventually got up the nerve to clean the cell I was put in. It didn’t help that the sewer running underneath the floor would shake the metal grade that covered it every time I or my neighbor flushed the toilet, but I maintained. I would take bird baths in the sink as I had pushed all the trash over to the shower area where what looked like fecal matter resided when the sewer may have overflowed. I didn’t know and I didn’t want to chance it. I had put in nurse requests and then removed them when I found out that it would cost me to see the nurse. I repeatedly asked for my mask back and my anxiety meds, but I was told I would have to see the Dr. there before being able to take them. I needed my mask because it seemed like the C.O. were putting bottles of it on, why I don’t know. By the time I really got to speak with the nurse I was told that she didn’t have the paper about my environmental disability, and she didn’t even know one existed even though I had the intake officer pull it out for them specifically. The more I complained the more I was treated badly by the guards. They had started playing the monsters theme song every 15 minutes I guess to signal that someone was coming to check to see if we were ok which was ok but one night I was sleep and I was having a horrible dream and I woke up to the Monster’s theme playing full blast above me then a female guard slinging open the door asking me “did I want a library book?” Now mind you this was in the middle of the night so I looked at her and was like, “I think I was just asleep?” She closed the door and I got up 15 minutes later and caught her coming to the door and asked her “why did you open my door and ask me if I needed a library book?” her response was “no I didn’t.” Oh yes she did and I had wondered how often were they playing that music while I was trying to sleep. That’s like torture.

Between the extreme hot and then cold I had figured out when to take a bird bath and when to wait because sometimes it seemed like straight up steam was coming out of the vents. It would hurt my eyes and I would get the symptoms associated with my disability being aggravated. A new guard had came to ask me if I needed a change of clothes for the shower and I said to her that I take bird baths because it’s still dirty over there and it’s hard for me to get in showers like that when she opened eyes real big and said “Your gonna get in the shower and your gonna get in the shower now!” She closed the opening back and I thought maybe she just was saying that as I had tried to tell her that emotionally I couldn’t when she returned with another C.O. and together they pushed me out of the cell and down the hallway into intake into the room where I had originally taken a shower. I was crying and trying to communicate with them what was going on and they begin to yell that “I better take off my clothes and get in the shower or they were going to put me in the chair and force me to.” As I tried to hurry one of them said and “take out your hair it looks dirty in those braids.” With all the yelling a male C.O. opened the door and saw me naked and it was just too much crying I just snatched off of my clothes and got under the cold water to avoid being put in the chair. When I came out of the room I swear the same officer who had been there when I got into the ambulance was sitting out there. The very one who gave me the death stare who had been talking to the advocate from Refuge for Women Texas before I was put into the bear hug by Jessie. Still crying I just didn’t look at him either as he didn’t look at me and I was fine with it.

Eventually the same C.O. who had taken my mask thought it was a good idea to start spraying tons of aerosol or some sort of cleaner outside of my cell. I believe she said it was an attempt “to get something off of the door that she had been trying to.” But I could half hear as she was speaking to another C.O. when she said it. I really thought I was going to die in there. I stopped trying to call my family as they wouldn’t answer. I stopped trying to reach the lawyer as he wouldn’t answer either. He came to see me once and told me I should do what I can to get out of there because “their crazy here.” I didn’t disagree. I had experienced so much in a month I felt like I was loosing myself. I was regularly having to cough and squat all of a sudden which was weird I wasn’t around anyone and I hadn’t been out of the jail since I had the TB test which I didn’t have. I repeatedly asked why I was being held in solitary confinement for nothing but I wasn’t given a straight answer. I want to stop and say that this is hard to write and I’m leaving stuff out because this is upsetting the way I was done. It was like I was being held there intentionally for no reason. Eventually I was released to their lobby where I had to keep asking them to go back and get more of my stuff because they had went through it some more and had left bags there. I was so happy to be free it didn’t bother me too much to find out that the hotel I stayed at before I had went to Refuge for Women Vegas then Texas had charged my card while I was in jail and had overdrafted my account. I double checked that I had my mom’s bible and alabaster box and they allowed me to keep my stuff there while I attempted to walk to Wells Fargo to get money out of my savings since I couldn’t do anything with my card over the phone.

I have court coming up regarding this but my lawyer yelled at me threatened to throw me in jail and said “he didn’t believe in me” in the courthouse so he could get off of my case. The new lawyer has had dates reset over and doesn’t tell me, the court has to, and they barely do that. With the exception of this past week when his assistant called me because the court tried to get it set over again. I haven’t been able to make it to the court dates because there is no public transportation that goes out to Denton County and my lawyer that tried to get off of my case gave me wrong information more than once. It’s almost too much to keep track of the way my life keeps going. I had just lost my mom and was being ignored by my family who wouldn’t come around to help until I called the ambulance the last time when they took my POA away. All this coming at me at once. Everything at once but God is bigger than it all.

Philippians 4:19 (KJV)
“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

REFERENCES:

Refuge For Women (North Texas):
North Texas – Refuge for Women

Refuge For Women (Las Vegas):
Las Vegas – Refuge for Women

The Rescue Industry: The Blurred Lines Between Help and Hindrance:
(PDF) ‘The rescue industry: The blurred line between help and hindrance’

The Safe House Project:
https://www.safehouseproject.org

International Human Rights Clinic: Over-Policing Sex Trafficking, How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations
Over-Policing Sex Trafficking: How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations – International Human Rights Clinic

We Are The Victims: Say The Residents of The Refuge:
‘We are the victims,’ say the former residents of The Refuge | TPR

This is Movie Stuff: How a Dallas Mom Said Leaders of a Non-Profit Tried to Take Her Baby
‘This is movie stuff’ | How a Dallas mom says leaders of a nonprofit tried to take her baby | wfaa.com

Control and Protect: Collaboration, Carceral Protection, and Domestic Sex Trafficking in The United States
Control and Protect by Jennifer Musto – Paper – University of California Press

Trafficking Rescue Initiatives as State Violence:
39559-psl_122-1

Closing the Door on Survivors: How Anti-Trafficking Programs in the U.S. Limit Access to Housing
View of Closing the Door on Survivors: How anti-trafficking programmes in the US limit access to housing | Anti-Trafficking Review

How Breaking My Cycle Almost Broke Me, Riding My Educational Wave, pt.1: Ardmore

September 12, 2026The Systemic OpJoyclyn

The enchanted forest of Ardmore,
[AI generated]

Unfortunately getting kicked out of school, in-school suspension for tardiness often that I couldn’t control, or never returning for that matter, would be a commonality for me growing up. I went to well over 15 schools in my K-12 education now that I’m doing the math, I just don’t remember them all. I guess I can’t blame all of my negative experiences on me being a Black survivor of the commercial sex trade, unless you would count what I experienced my mom go through (she never identified as any of those things by the way, majority of folks don’t identify as a survivor or a sex worker). Research says you should count it. Research says that a child that witnesses a caregiver experience domestic violence has the same impact as if they had experienced it themselves. The same can be said about the commercial sex trade: exotic dancing, prostitution, exploitation, and various online forms of pornography and the likes. The intersectionality that is me; being Black, being a woman, being a survivor of many things and a child of a parent who was a survivor of those same things is indicative of years of trauma I was exposed to as a result of abuse; abuse that is derived from sexual assault, prostitution and exploitation. One of the main barriers my mom and I faced as a result of our lifestyles was stable permanent housing and the ability to maintain it. I developed a phobia of being late that led to me being chronically late from my childhood through my early adulthood. I hated being looked at and developed a fear of public speaking as I would have to be introduced to a new set of kids multiple times a year. By the time I got settled in one school, we had to move to the other side of town, or out of town for that matter. Ronald Regan had yet passed the McKinney Homeless Assistance Act (1987), later the McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act (2000) so her help in getting me to school was minimal at best. I just wanted a safe place to go to school from and still to this day I don’t have a safe place to stay, to go to school from….

Something said get up, looking at the clock it was 1:24am, and I had court in the morning, “Jesus,” I said out loud as I got out the bed and walked to my door where my shoes were neatly placed by it. The owner had a plumbing leak due to a resident backing it up 2 weeks ago and feces and whatever else was tracked all through the house so there was no way I would wear my regular house shoes to go to the bathroom, or anywhere else in the house. Grabbing my role of tissue, I noticed the door closed which meant someone was in there. Putting my back to the wall I patiently waited as I heard “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” of what sounded like a spray can that went on for close to a minute, maybe more. I needed a safe space, I needed school, thoughts of all the schools I attended flashed before my eyes, settling on my last school, Pepperdine….

“Is there any way I’m able to stay on campus?” We don’t allow virtual students to stay on campus, but I have some resources where you can stay at least for a little while.” “Ok.” She directed me to a website that offered students, primarily students of Pepperdine rental leases and other various forms of housing options. Almost halfway done with my master’s in legal studies I found myself houseless yet again. My mom was getting worse and I had just lost my job again for doing what I was trained in Graduate school to do. Scanning the site, I selected various houses and shared apartments for follow-up. Closing the tab on my phone. I got up to answer my mom’s door. It was her neighbor, “Is your mom here?” “She’s laying down.” I said as I sat back down. “Tell her I need to see her,” she said as she turned back around and slammed her door adjacent to my mom’s.” Getting back up, I too slammed my mom’s door. I went to my mom’s room and slightly opened the door. My mom had always been so small, but her frame almost dwindled away to nothing. You could barely tell that she was under the covers except for the rise and fall of her body with each labored breath and the top of her head peering out from under them. Closing her bedroom door back, I grabbed my phone and checked it for any takers for a place near my school. She had just returned from Dirty Rice’s house and while she was gone the management office had lied about coming to fix the stove, refrigerator, and check the moisture that would overcome the whole carpet every time it rained; along with other serious issues in the house. They had conveniently lost the ROI which allowed me to advocate on her behalf, so I had to rely on her to do it and she just wasn’t any more. She had asked me to be her home care provider, but I told her I wasn’t going to get paid for things she wouldn’t allow me to do. I would just do whatever she wanted me to when she allowed me to. In the end I think someone else was getting the money and not doing their job, but I don’t know that for sure.

It would be close to 2 weeks before someone accepted my request for a place. I actually had 2 in 1 day; which was perfect timing because I needed to go for a weekend class and I would be able to check it out in person and see if it was a good fit. The place I was most interested in was in Calabasas, had one roommate and the other one was out of town indefinitely. Booking my flight and hotel reservations I was eager to get out of town too, get away for a while. Besides, every time I came back my mom made sure to let me know I wasn’t welcome. I mean she always made me feel that way, especially these past years, but this time it was different. She had begun to not make sense about a lot of things, ignoring hospital visits, not taking care of herself or her house, not even driving her car. I can still hear her say “Girl you better quit coming here before you end up not being able to make your dreams come true,” without hesitation I would reassure her that “I’m not gonna leave you mom, I’m not, I’m always gonna come back.” The week before I left for California when she went to see Dirty Rice she had said, “I’m free,” before leaving. I didn’t know you were captured, I thought to myself. Thinking nothing more of it, I was happy to have the space for myself, maybe I could clean now that she was out of town. While she was at Dirty Rice’s I tried to sleep, tried to get them to fix things so the apartment would be livable, and look for work, and apply for food stamps as well. One day I came back to find one of the neighbor’s associates trying to break in but she had a key. “What are you doing?” I said. She immediately dropped her keys and acted like that’s what she was doing but in front of my mom’s door. “Oh, hey I dropped my keys.” That was a lie, I just didn’t have the energy to debate it. My mom had lost her keys a few weeks back, maybe that’s where they were.

Again, I reached out to her management office to plea for them to at least change her locks. I explained why, but it fell on deaf ears. One time I was entering the bottom door when I heard her door slam shut and here comes the maintenance guy. He didn’t even look me in the eyes as he brushed past me. Thinking it weird, I unlocked her door and went inside to see that the tale, tale trap I had set in case someone came in had been disturbed. It was him that had been in my mom’s apartment; the maintenance guy. I immediately went out the door after him, skipping steps I practically flew down them and out the main door. I could see him speed walking towards the office. He had been the maintenance guy for a while, and I had never seen him moving so fast. “Hey” I yelled. He kept walking. Quickening my steps to a full-blown run I yelled “Hey, maintenance guy” a few more times finally catching up to him as he reached the steps to the management office. Touching his arm, he turned around. “Hey were you in my mom’s apartment?” He begins to shake his head and with his thick Russian accent he says “no.” “Yes, you were,” I heard come out the door. “You didn’t have permission to go in.” And with that he just gave me a cold stare that said, so what, what you gonna do, and he turned around and walked away. “Don’t do that again,” I said as he walked into the office. Turning around, I made my way back to my mom’s apartment because neither me nor my mom could deal with the overpowering air freshener that I could smell from outside of the rental office. Besides that, wasn’t the only weird thing that went on. It was 80 degrees outside, yet the apartment felt like there was air conditioning. When I said it was freezing, I had to open the door to get heat from the hallway, I kid you not. It could have been coming from downstairs because the lady that lived down there always kept the curtains tight and door closed, it didn’t matter what season it was; it was weird. It made me think of how my mom would say the same things sometimes. It would even wake her up; either extreme heat or extreme cold and I too experienced them both. Resigned to doing some cleaning I carried out bags of stuff that had accumulated around her bed.

Thanks to Dirty Rice she was now a hoarder like he was and it didn’t help that he would continue to bring her stuff that she didn’t need but he did. Sorting through all the stuff into 2 big white bags, stuff that she wasn’t even able to go through due to her being weak, I was determined to take them to the garbage. Mainly, because it was stuff that could potentially catch on fire. 4 large bottles of lighter fluid, and lighters that you would light barbeques with. Why would someone bring all this stuff and push it by her bed? Never mind, I was throwing them out. As I attempted to pick both garbage bags up, I discovered that they were so heavy I could barely lift one up let alone both. As I carried and half dragged the first garbage back down the stairs and out the last door, through the walkway and to one of the garbage areas. I realized this was going to be too heavy to even lift. After a few tries, I decided to just close it tightly and leave it on the side. As I made my way back with the 2nd garbage bag here comes another one of my mom’s neighbors with the bag that I had just through out. I mean he was sweating and in a hurry. I didn’t know what to think of it. “Why would they be taking my mom’s garbage I thought to myself. Ignoring it I went back to her house and finished getting my things together for my trip to California as I didn’t belong there like my mom said, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.

“You don’t belong here, go back to Africa, you African booty-scratcher!” Cisely yelled at me from the big toy. Tilting my head back looking up at her “what is that, and I’m not from Africa, I was born at Grouphealth in Seattle.” “Yes, you are, you’re from Africa, my dad said all people who look like you are,” throwing her head back she laughed and made wild jungle sounds as she bended her knees and swung back and forth on the bar above the slide. “Whatever,” I said as I decided to find somewhere else to play. Somewhere away from her constant badgering and laughing at me that seemed to follow me anytime I wasn’t in class. I had been asking my mom to help me make Cisely stop for a while, but I guess her behavior wasn’t enough for the school to do anything about it. One day coming home from school sitting my kindergarten size backpack at the door, I washed my hands in the kitchen sink as I prepared for an afternoon snack I said, “mom those people are religious at that school.” Looking at me with curiosity, she said “Religious?” “Yea, religious, this girl keeps calling me names and telling me to go back to Africa.” “What did she call you?” “She called me the N-word.” “You mean prejudice?” “Yea, prejudice, them people are prejudice.” “Well you do have Ancestors from Africa who were brought over as slaves and it is there shoulders we stand on, be proud of it and I will call and talk to them people, don’t worry,” she reassured me. Back then I didn’t know how much of a minority I really was in Bellevue at the time. I had an older friend that was maybe 2 grades above me who went to school with me, which was the little sister of my mom’s friend and there was one other mixed boy but that was it. There was a total of 3 Black kids in the school. And I wondered if they had too experienced what I now know as bullying.

Not too long before that incident on the Big Toy, Cisely had whispered “nigger” in the hallway as I was coming out of the bathroom. As I chased her, her blonde hair adorned with red silk bows bounced and I almost grabbed one as she mouthed “nigger” one more time before ducking into her classroom that was a few doors away from mines. Defeated, head down, I turned around and headed back to my classroom. I felt hopeless, just like that day. Holding my head down I made my way to the half woods half creek play area quickly getting lost in my own thoughts of grandeur I imagined myself in a palace with my husband, and servants and all the food I ever wanted when I felt an object hit me on the back. Turning around I saw Cisely pointing and laughing before she bolted heading for the clearing that ultimately led back to Ardmore, our school.

Standing there for a few seconds I watched her run parallel to the small creek and decided if I would run after her this time. Looking at her positioning and the clearing in the woods I made a decision to catch her, and with that I sprinted after her. With my eyes focused on the blonde trail that was her hair in the wind, I jumped over small logs and through baby bushes determined to catch up to her. Still running I extended my fingertips grabbing a handful of hair I yanked. “Ahhh,” she screamed as she landed in the creek. With my hands still intertwined in her now wet hair, I unwrapped them and bent over her and whispered, “I’m not from Africa but my Ancestors are and they don’t play about me.”

Deuteronomy 32:7 (KJV)

“Remember the days of old consider the years of many generations: ask thy father and he will shew thee; thy elders, and they will tell thee.”

References:

National Black Women’s Justice Institute
Resources | NBWJI

Office of Women’s Health: Effects of domestic violence on children
Effects of domestic violence on children

Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia Center for Injury Research and Prevention (CHOP), Domestic Violence and Child Abuse
Domestic Violence and Child Abuse | CIRP
Research | Center for Injury Research and Prevention (CIRP)

Futures Without Violence: Children
Children – Futures Without Violence New

Child Welfare Information Gateway
Child Welfare Information Gateway | Child Welfare Information Gateway

National Institute of Health / Pum Med Central (PMC)
pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

Frontiers in Public Health
frontiersin.org/journals/public-health

The National Child Traumatic Stress Network
nctsn.org

Journal of Global Health: Causes of preventable death among children of female sex worker mothers in low- and middle-income countries: A community knowledge approach investigation (JOGH)
Causes of preventable death among children of female sex worker mothers in low- and middle-income countries: A community knowledge approach investigation — JOGH

Books:
Pushout by Monique W. Morris

Intersectionality by Patricia Hill, 2nd Edition

Laquesha: What Nightmares Are Made of “Call my Grandma!”

September 7, 2026A display of my A-FactionsJoyclyn

(Grandma and I, same place, different time, circa 1981)

“Call my Grandma, please”

“Girl, ain’t nobody stunting you, you do what I tell you to and if you would’ve listened you wouldn’t be crying now.”

“She said, I could call her anytime, you were there when she said it, please?”

Shoving the phone towards me, with a look of disgust my Mom motioned towards it

“You know the number go ahead I need a break anyway, I have to go to work and you’ve been here a week straight.”

As I grabbed the phone I began to say the numbers out loud because that was easier for me to remember. I waited impatiently for the spinner on the phone to get back in place so that I could dial the next number. Finally dialing the last number, the phone rang once, when Hawk my Mom’s Pimp/boyfriend burst through the door….
“What the hell,” my Mom screamed as we both jumped from the sound of the door flinging open.

“What you mean, what the hell” he said through clenched teeth. “I been calling and coming by, what the fuck is going on, where you been?”

“Nigga I don’t even know who my daddy is, but I know ain’t you.” As she stood up and edged closer towards the back door.

With what seemed like one step of his long legs he was in my Mom’s face, grabbing her by her shirt,

Dropping the phone, I spun around searching for something to protect her with; I ran to the kitchen opened the first drawer I saw and grabbed a butter knife.

Holding the knife safely away from my body like my kindergarten teacher told me to I charged into the living room as it shook in my hands I yelled “Get back, get away from my Mother!”

What was once a serious and tense moment between the two immediately turned into laughter and Joy as Hawk let go of my Mom’s shirt and grabbed her by the waist pulling her into his arms. As my Mom let him they both through their heads back and burst into gut wrenching laughter.

Moving the toothpick from one side to the other Hawk calmly said “Girl ain’t nobody gonna hurt your Momma, I just missed her that’s all.” Moving to kiss my mom on the lips she turned her head towards me giving him her cheek.

Looking at me her eyes gave pride and love “put the knife down before you hurt yourself Joy.”

I stared at her, then I stared at him, back and forth I went wondering who I should stab first, for playing with my emotions. Slowly I walked back to the kitchen and reluctantly the knife released from my sweaty palms onto the kitchen counter as Hawk pointed to the phone off the hook where I had left it. “Who’s on the phone?” “Dammit,” my Mom said as she walked to the phone and picked it up.

Turning from where I could see her she said “hello.” I could see her body shift from relaxed to tense as she said “I will have her ready, yes she will be ready.” She said as she hung up the phone.

Turning back towards me she said “Girl go get your clothes, your Grandma is coming just like you wanted, and hurry up.” She added with agitation.

Smiling, I turned around and headed towards my room, knowing my Grandma had heard the whole thing, and I would probably get to stay a month straight this time….

Laquesha : What Nightmares Are Made of “The Bedroom”

September 7, 2026A display of my A-FactionsJoyclyn

(My Mom’s Bedroom, before it became worse. 1/2025)

Shivering as her feet pitter-pattered on her way into the living room her expression of gladness transformed into sadness as Momma frowned and pointed back to the bedroom

She wanted to speak up, she wanted to scream, she wanted to say Mom you’re in the other room and your mean, but she knew better

Her body stiffened as she turned around and headed back to her Mom’s bedroom. This time her feet quietly embraced the carpet, heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe, feeling the soft fibers of the carpet with each step a familiar growing fear of dread grew in her stomach. With what felt like 30 steps she reached her Mom’s door in 4

Touching the doorknob with the tip of her finger, the door widened with a sharp creak; she knew the drill, she would walk in and there would be her Mom; the woman she loved, the woman who comforted her, the woman whom she couldn’t eat without knowing she was ok, whose sound of high heels hitting the pavement while embracing her in the early moon light was a better feeling than all the candy in the world

But it wouldn’t be her Mom, it would resemble her Mom but it would have snarled teeth, and red hair that stood straight up, with piercing black eyes and big red lips that were in the posture of a smile, and as she opened her mouth a laugh that would resembling a cry would screech like a scream as her contorted hands reached for me her nails sprawled in different directions like a twisted staircase that intertwined up and down, left and right, and motioned for me to come closer

And so she bit her lip and stepped inside with the hope that things would be different, eyes wide she saw what she had feared, closing them tightly, she spun around and leaped through the door slamming it behind her, BANG

Opening her eyes she saw the off-white textured ceiling, breathing hard, she sat up straight to the sound of her Mom’s laughter coming from the living room; wiping her sweat and tears from her face, with one bound she was out the bed and at her bedroom door peeking out to see her Mom partying with Autotune….

Heal or Jail, Write or Die….a survivor’s memoir in pursuit of the healing society said she needed, Ep. 3, Refuge For Women (Texas): Left & Lost in Wise County

September 5, 2026Everything's Bigger in Texas, UncategorizedJoyclyn

……………

(Journal Entry August 27th, 2026)

Thank you God for allowing me to wake up and happy birthday to meeee! Thank you for not allowing me to wake up in jail this year. Thank you for my babies, send your angels out with them and me today, everyday; going before us and making a crooked path straight. Thank you for your provision, protection, direction, correction, and connection Father God. Thank you for the people who have came and gone in my life, for the reasons only you know. Thank you for my health, my true wealth. I could never thank you enough Lord, but you keep renewing my mind, and faith giving me another day, and another way to try… when they ask me who I am I say I am his… and I pray I make you proud, I pray I live up to my name; be who you made me to be, the reason you put me here for such a time as this.

Amen

About a year ago….

Maybe 2 to 3 days after my last journal Entry (8/18/25) at Refuge for Women (Texas), I remember waking up feeling ok, a little headache that I didn’t have the night before, but still ok. The bed felt amazing as I stretched across it, throwing a pillow on the floor I maneuvered to my knees all in one motion. I begin to pray, and write, and pray some more. After some quality time with my Savior I remembered about the sunrise and how beautiful it was from the house. Quietly I tiptoed out my room, across the upstairs hard wood floors moving through the living area I grabbed a yoga mat next to the wall and positioned myself in front of the clerestory window facing the east and waited for God’s show to start… Hearing someones alarm go off I realized I must have fallen asleep. Stretching my body to prepare for the day; I wiped the mat and placed it back against the wall and headed to my room to wash my face and brush my teeth before heading down stairs for devotionals. I didn’t want to miss it because we were having volunteers and we had to allow them space to clean and I didn’t want to spend too much time in my room.

I don’t remember too much from devotionals that day I do remember that later on when day staff showed up in addition to the curly haired lady their was staff that I had never seen before, a light skinned Black woman. I tried to make conversation with her but she just looked at me and smiled slightly. Shrugging it off I focused on the positive and that was being able to swim, finally. We were told a few days before that, that we were going to the transitional house and they had a pool. After saying hi to the volunteers the staff with the curly-hair let us know that there was “a man outside volunteering so if we saw him not to panic.” I didn’t think too much about it however I did ask her if they were still barbequeing where the pool was because Refuge For Women Vegas still had not sent my stuff yet and I didn’t have a mask. I was assured that if they were I could sit in the house if the smoke became too much.

Some time went by and the volunteers had finished organizing things and were gathering downstairs so we could pray. As I made my way downstairs I immediately got a headache but that had been happening occasionally. Waiting for the last few volunteers we assembled in a circle in the foyer on the floor by the front door. It was at this point that I noticed the muscles in my body began to spasm. I didn’t panic because I didn’t smell anything and passed it off as my nervous system just tripping when the curly-haired staff asked if the male volunteer could come in and pray with us. I said “no” in part, because of the rule in Vegas that said that we couldn’t even “talk to male” support people on the phone so why were they allowing a whole man to be inside around survivors, young ones at that, was weird to me. Once the last volunteers joined us we begin to go around in a circle while the volunteers prayed for us and for Refuge for Women. After they finished I had asked if I could pray, and was allowed to. I felt the holy spirit there, that morning, but then I felt something else. Swaying back and forth with my eyes closed I felt my throat begin to swell, then the nerves in my face began to jump in addition to the ones in my body. As my chest tightened my voice cracked with a final amen. Staying on the floor I scooted out the way allowing the volunteers and other residents to go by me. Still on the floor I moved towards the now closed door and used the door nob to pull myself up. Back on my feet, I began to smell a weird smell. Turning towards one of the staff sitting at the dining room table I asked “What is that, what is that smell?” “I don’t smell anything my nose is congested,” she said and went right back to reading whatever she was reading.

I need fresh air, I’m going outside,” I said as I opened the door and descended into what felt like was hell but was really the Dallas heat. As I moved about the front patio the smell increased. “Ughhh”, I said grabbing my chest looking to the right and left I figured maybe it was just the wind. Walking around the house I felt no relief on either side. Having walked a full circle around the house I raised my hands in the air and prayed as I began to walk the long driveway towards the road. “You’re such a good God, you are the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, all roads lead to you, thank you Lord, help me Jesus, I don’t want to die here!” The further I got away from the house I started to feel some relief but the heat was too much, I needed to get back in the house. Turning around before I made it to the road, I reached in my pocket for the only protection I had, a mask that I had been using since I got to Refuge for Women Texas. It was worn, dirty and of no use, but it was all I had. They were supposed to ship my stuff but they kept giving me the run a round. It’s like they didn’t believe that I really had a disability and needed them, or they just didn’t care; maybe they threw my stuff away and just didn’t want to tell me, I didn’t know. The closer I got to the house the more my symptoms increased. My throat begin to close and my headache intensified with every step. I felt my leg almost give away. This was new I thought, not being able to walk. Stopping for a moment so I could gain my balance I tried to focus on the door that maybe was 30 feet away, maybe more. Commanding my body to keep going I pressed forward and prayed. Finally I made it back to the porch where I stopped to lean on the door. Looking around all I could see was dead bugs everywhere. Where did all these dead bugs come from, I thought. I was just out here earlier. I begin to cough as the stench it was something in the air. Oh my God I thought as I practically fell through the front door. “Please take me to the hospital?” I said as I closed the door behind me and leaned up against it. Neither staff member looked up, nor did they acknowledge my distress. Sliding down the door on to the floor I repeated my request for help. Please I need to go to the hospital I need my Dr.’s note saying that I have a disability.”

From across the room on the couch the curly-haired staff member calmly picked up her cell phone and began talking on it as she finally turned towards me. “Why aren’t y’all answering me I need help?” I said. Finally, the Black staff member seated at the dining room table looked up from whatever she was reading and acknowledged me; “what do you need?” “I need help, I’m having an allergic reaction, I need to go to the Dr., I need my Dr’s note, please help me up, I need to get my stuff and go to the Dr.!” I blurted. With that, the curly-haired staff member, who was still on the phone got up from the couch and walked towards the office area to the right. Getting up from the table and following behind her the Black staff lady responded, “she’s going to go get it for you, I’ll go make sure she gets it.” “Wait, what, help me get up, please I can’t breathe, I have to go get ready to go to the hospital.” Seeing that my words fell on deaf ears, I turned towards the 2 young survivors who had begun frolicking not 4 feet from me and asked them to “help me up, please?” They looked at me and continued to play. I didn’t want to fall but I had to get upstairs and get my Dr.’s note or they weren’t going to treat me, I knew they weren’t. I begin to belly crawl across the foyer to the stairs and then up the stairs only stopping to catch my breath. By the time I made it half way up the steps the Black staff lady returned. From the bottom of the steps she asked was I “ok?” “No” I replied, “I need help.” She shook her head and walked away. Crying, sweating, and praying I continued to scoot up the steps, step by step and finally into my room where I rested for moment before grabbing my tennis shoes and my Dr.’s note that I had stored in the drawer by my bed in case of emergencies. The pain on the left side of my chest increased. It now felt like I had a stack of books on top of me; I knew I needed to get into a praying posture before anything else. Getting on my knees, no pillow this time, I begin to cite the Lord’s prayer and through tears I thanked all my ancestors in the Bible, my bloodline and chosen when I felt a single finger poke me on my back. Jumping, I screamed only to see the curly-haired ladies face bent down towards mine. “What are you doing?” I said.

“You want some help up?” she said as she stood back up and extended a hand. “No, why would you scare me, why didn’t you knock?” Without saying a word she turned around and walked out the door and back down the stairs. I immediately regretted saying no. What was I thinking. “Wait, come back I need help, I’m sorry you scared me, please come back?” I yelled. She was gone. I was gonna have to get myself together. With the bed’s help I pulled myself up and followed along the wall to the door. Looking at the long steps I decided to not chance it, getting on my bottom I begin to scoot step by step down the stairs. Once I made it to the bottom when the curly-haired lady handed me my wallet and my non-narcotic anxiety medicine that hadn’t been working, in a plastic bag. She didn’t give me the updated letter I gave them explaining my disability, what I had been asking for, but thank God I had an old one. “She’s gonna give you a ride, she has to move some stuff out of her car.” “Where is she at?” “She’s outside,’ she said as she walked out the front door and closed it behind her. Ok I thought, there going to give me a ride.   Pulling myself up I held the wall all the way to the door, and braced myself for the heat. Opening the door, I slowly walked on to the patio to see even more dead bugs than before. The smell, whatever it was made my symptoms worse as I held on to one of the pillars of the house I grabbed my old mask and waited for her to pull up to the house. After a few moments I figured she wasn’t going to so I slowly made my way to her car parked on the other side of the car that held the curly-haired lady, and the 2 young survivors. Walking past their car I tried to get in the front seat and the door was locked. “Can you open it please?” I don’t know if the windows were tinted or I just couldn’t see from the little particles that had began to obstruct my vision but I didn’t hear a door unlock. Once I moved to the backseat door, I heard the unlock. Getting in as quickly as I could, I thanked her for taking me. She didn’t say anything and I was fine with that. I just needed to breathe, I just needed some relief. Taking a right on to the road from the driveway we couldn’t have gone more than a country block when I asked her if I “could get some fresh air.” She didn’t say anything so I rolled down the window. She then rolled the window back up.

Remaining as calm as I could, I rolled down the window again and I asked her if “I could please get some fresh air?” Saying nothing she rolled it back up. Finally, I said “pull over” so I could get some fresh air. She then begins dialing a phone number and I don’t know who she was trying to reach but I think it was the police. I honestly don’t remember. Maybe it was the non-emergency line I’m not sure but it was some agency and she was on hold when she pulled over which couldn’t have been more than a minute after I originally asked. On the side of the road, I attempted to roll the window down. Finally responding she said, “I would have to get out the car, I could not roll down the window,” Again, I tried to roll the window back down and she rolled it right back up. Getting out the car I tried to lean up against it when she rolled down the window and told me to “not lean on her car.” Resigned to the fact that something was really wrong with these people, I walked past the car and sat down next to what seemed like a little ditch on the side of the road facing the house/farm. Putting my head between my legs I attempted to regulate my nervous system and deal with my allergic reaction the best way I could. Hearing a car pull into the drive way next to me, I lifted my head to see what looked like a truck with a lady in it. I asked her could she “please call the ambulance, I was having an allergic reaction and I needed help?” Her response was that she “needed to ask her paw, paw first.” I didn’t have the energy to even process what she said, I just asked again for her to please call the ambulance.” I’m not sure what happened but she drove away. I looked to the right and the staff was still sitting in her car, so I just put my head back down as I felt some relief when I seen this lady with a smock on. Looked like a nurses smock.

She identified herself as “Jessie” if I remember correctly and she asked if I was “alright” and I let her know I was waiting for an ambulance. That’s when she asked me if she could “stand behind me” that way “I could lean on her.” I responded that I wasn’t leaning backwards I was leaning forwards but she could if she wanted to I just needed some relief. That’s when a young girl riding like a mini 4 wheeler pulled up. I could smell the fumes from the little vehicle and it just seemed odd as there was literally no one around just minutes before. I don’t know if I asked her if she knew her or is she could have her move because of the fumes but I remember the little girl driving away. Then what looked like a police officer or a medic came with a box asking me if he could “take my vitals.” I declined stating “that I was waiting for an ambulance to come.” That’s when I noticed that the advocate had gotten out of her car and she was speaking with a Hispanic officer who had not approached me. The young girl on the little motor bike returned and started driving back and forth. I felt like there were other people that started showing up as well. It just seemed like all of a sudden there was so much going on around me, I just tried to focus on breathing when the 2nd officer who was Hispanic walked over to me as I sat on the ground and gave me what I would call the look of death. This stare couldn’t have lasted more than 10 seconds but when I tell you there was a look of pure hate coming from him, so much so that I said, “why are you looking at me like that?” That’s when I noticed “Jessie” wasn’t standing behind me anymore. She was now crouched down behind me with her arms extended under my underarms and almost had me in what I can only describe as a full nelson. “What the fu&%,” I screamed, “Let me go.” I said as I began to twist and turn in an attempt to get this stranger to let me go. After a lot of twisting and turning I was able to pull myself out of that women’s grip. Having gotten free, I ran across the little ditch to the other side where there was a fence and a tree, I think. I wrapped myself around whatever it was and prayed and braced myself in case “Jessie” came over to try to finish me off.

That’s when a older white man with a beard came over and asked if he “could help me.” Followed by the ambulance pulling up in the driveway next to me. I didn’t want his help, but he was standing in between me and the ambulance so I let go of whatever it was I was holding on to and took his hand. Getting into the stretcher they begin to lift the stretcher with me onto the back of the ambulance when I begin to fall out of the stretcher. I was literally hanging sideways when they had to put the stretcher back down and strap me in.   “What the fu&^, I screamed again. “What is going on?” The guy paramedic whose name I don’t remember apologized. At this point, I’m hysterical I’m sure but I’m calm enough to ask for “some oxygen?” They gave me the oxygen but didn’t turn it on. “We need to get your vitals” There was now a man and a woman in the back with me. “I will wait until I get to the hospital, could you please turn on the oxygen?” I asked again. That’s when he nodded to the woman sitting to my right somewhat behind me while he was to my left sort of in front of me. “Please just take me to the hospital?” I said through tears, “this is too much.” “Were going, I just need to make a call to the hospital and let them know were coming.” He made his way behind me and a few seconds later something said to turn around, and I turned around to see and hear him saying that I ‘was hallucinating.” While he was still on the phone, I said “that’s not true, you’re lying why would you say that, why wouldn’t you ask me?” He quickly hung up the walkie talky or whatever he was talking through and came over to me and explained that “the people outside had said I was hallucinating.” “But why wouldn’t you ask me if I was seeing or hearing things, why would you just tell them that, don’t you know that lady put me in a bear hug?” “Is this being recorded can they hear this?” I asked. “No they can’t hear but they can watch it, and they don’t take paramedics word for it anyways.”

(my apologies for the grammatic etc. in the rest of this piece, because I’m triggered and I probably should stop writing now, but I want to finish this episode)

Eventually making it to the hospital, they put me in a room that was at the end of the hallway. It just seemed like there was a lot of noise, but I had to go to the bathroom and after I came out the bathroom, I gave them my Dr.’s note that I had been holding on to and asked for steroids to help calm what ever was wrong with me. I didn’t know how it worked, it just worked in the past. I asked if I could have some stronger medicine to help with the anxiety because what I had wasn’t working.” I was told they had to “ask some questions and run some tests before they could give me anything.” I’m not sure if I was able to tell them fully what had just happened to me. I’m unsure, but I do remember getting moved to a different room, one that I was told was quieter. But as soon as I was moved, everyone started coming to that nurse’s desk, that was empty when I was moved into that room. Then I noticed the security (who I later found out was “Roby”) walking by room waving at me. I asked for the phone and was given it as they had given me the steroids and I felt some relief. But the noise the noise from the hallway was just a lot and I needed airflow, so I needed the door open. I didn’t know what to do. I called my aunt’s number knowing that I hadn’t spoken to her since she got drunk and tried to put me out down some stairs layered with ice and snow, but it was the only number I remembered. She didn’t answer of course so I left a couple of messages that I’m sure sounded strange because of what I had just experienced.   Finally, both nurses came back to my room all the while “Roby” continued to circle pass the door to let me know he was there, I guess. I asked again if I could get a another dose of steroids as my symptoms had not completely gone away and if I could get something to help me calm down. I needed to calm down. One nurse was Indian, not Native, but Punjab or something similar. Looking at the Caucasian nurse she said, “no, you didn’t come here for anxiety, and we have already given you enough steroids, and were going to discharge you.” I’m pretty sure they both left after that and I knew what would come next if I didn’t get myself together and leave that hospital.

After I was told I had to leave and they wouldn’t be helping me with my anxiety, I went to the nurses’ station to see if they could call Refuge for Women and no one was there anymore. I began to get a bad feeling, so I grabbed my plastic bag with my wallet and the non-narcotic anxiety medicine that I had from Refuge that was not working and I went in search of a nurse. Soon as I left the room I turned around and Roby was behind me. I found another nurse’s station and apparently that is where everyone had moved to and I asked if they could contact where I was staying and the nurse said she didn’t know where I was staying. I asked if a staff from the shelter had come or anything and she said “no,” but that she would try to look it up. As she looked it up, I noticed Roby getting closer to me. I asked him if he could please stop following me. He replied that he “was there for their safety.” Turning to the nurses I asked them was “I making them feel unsafe?” and they replied “no.” but he still didn’t leave. That’s when the nurse said I could wait in the waiting room, since he was making me uncomfortable while she tried to find their number because no advocate or staff person had come or called to see if I was ok. I made my way to the waiting room and as soon as I sat down, they rolled a gentleman into the waiting area and he begin to scream in pain on que. I couldn’t take it, so I went outside but there was a car parked and running so I went all the way into the middle of the field adjacent to the hospital in an attempt to get some fresh air. It was beautiful still, even though I had just gone through one of the worst days in my life. I pulled open the plastic bag and took a few more of the medicine that hadn’t been working and prayed and that’s when I noticed I still had the phone. I made my way back to the hospital to return the phone when I saw the nurse who had been researching the number for Refuge for Women Texas.

I immediately handed her the phone and she in turn handed me a piece of paper with Refuges number on it. I asked if I could use the phone and another nurse handed me the phone and I called and Lakeysha answered. “Are y’all going to come back and pick me up?” “You are no longer welcomed here because you lied and said that we weren’t helping you.” “Y’all weren’t helping me and I couldn’t breathe or walk.” “Well, you shouldn’t have told them that and you’re no longer welcomed here.” Well, I need my phone, I need my stuff, I don’t know where I’m at. I need a way from here.” That’s not our problem, we will pack your stuff, and I will bring it to you there. When will you bring it?” “When we have time to go through it.” And with that she hung up the phone. I started crying again, because I didn’t know what to do. I handed them back the phone and went outside to try to calm down and about 6 or so minutes later someone pulled up and I asked if I could use her phone as she was getting out of the car. Her response was “hold on” I will be right back” and she went inside and came out with Robby who immediately said I was” trespassed” and I needed to “leave.” I explained to him through tears that “I was waiting for my stuff, and I didn’t know where I was at and I didn’t have anywhere to go and I couldn’t leave because I didn’t have anywhere to go.” “I’m calling the police then” he said with a smile on his face. He took the phone out of his pocket and began dialing and I just walked away from here to the other side of the parking lot. Maybe they would help, I thought. But that was short lived as they arrived rather quickly and asked me my side of the story. Because we were outside and they had their police car running I was starting to have chest pains on both sides this time. I asked them could we go inside the hospital and get out the heat, and away from the fumes from their car and finish talking about it and they allowed me to go into the first entry way but they stood in front of the sliding door preventing it from closing, which would have blocked the cars fumes from coming in had it been closed. So my symptoms seemed to come back as they explained that “I needed to leave the hospital.” They said I could go stand outside a “Walmart.” And I declined because my stuff was coming to the hospital and I was still not feeling well both “physically and emotionally.” They directed me by pointing to the property by a field that was off of the hospital grounds and yelled at me to “get out of here.” As they walked away.

I made my way down the stairs, passed the huge parking lot and off of the hospital grounds where I stood for a couple hours until a nurse came out and was getting in her car. I asked her if I could use her phone and she smiled at me and said yes. I called Refuge back and Lakeysha again. I asked her about my stuff, and she said they still hadn’t gotten to it and if I’m not mistaken, she said she was giving my stuff to the police and when I tried to object she hung up. I tried to call back but the nurse said, “I couldn’t use her phone anymore.” With a smile on her face she turned and walked away saying “no good deed goes unpunished.” The last thing I wanted to do was meet those officers again, but it started to get dark, so I tried to walk by what looked like a business park to the side of the hospital and on the other side it just looked like woods. I didn’t want to end up in the woods’ dead, so I tried to walk over to see if there were businesses or any signs of life and on the way I seen a police car coming down the road. I jumped up and down and attempted to flag the officers down and they just went right by me. So, I walked back towards the businesses and sat down on the curb and then I was thinking that what if they came with my stuff and I wasn’t up there so I started walking back across the street to get closer enough to at least the parking lot when another officer going the opposite direction of the other car that had just went by came and I again tried to waive them down and they kept going. By now it was dark and I decided that I would go call the police and ask for help so I went back onto Medical City Decatur’s hospital grounds and went right to the security desk and asked Roby if I could call the police myself. He handed me the phone and eventually I got a person on the phone, and I let them know that “I was stuck and if the officers could come back and give me a ride because my stuff hadn’t been dropped off yet.”

The operator asked if I could call the non-emergency line and I explained that I could not because Roby wouldn’t let me.” She said she would “let the officers know” and I got off the phone. Handing Roby back the phone I asked out of desperation, if I could just “sit outside of the hospital and wait for the officers in one of the wheelchairs because it’s dark?” And surprisingly, he said, “yes, let me roll you out.” When I said “no, I could roll myself out” he immediately got angry and called the police on me again, so I walked over to the steps and waited about 7 minutes and they showed up; one below the steps to my left and anther one from the parking lot to the right of me. I remember as they asked me to stand up and put the cuffs on me so that I was facing away from the hospital one of the officers said “your stuff just showed up, we’ll book it in the jail with you.”

Matthew 25:23 (KJV)

“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’”

REFERENCES:

Refuge For Women (North Texas):
North Texas – Refuge for Women

Refuge For Women (Las Vegas):
Las Vegas – Refuge for Women

The Rescue Industry: The Blurred Lines Between Help and Hindrance:
(PDF) ‘The rescue industry: The blurred line between help and hindrance’

The Safe House Project:
https://www.safehouseproject.org

International Human Rights Clinic: Over-Policing Sex Trafficking, How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations
Over-Policing Sex Trafficking: How U.S. Law Enforcement Should Reform Operations – International Human Rights Clinic

We Are The Victims: Say The Residents of The Refuge:
‘We are the victims,’ say the former residents of The Refuge | TPR

This is Movie Stuff: How a Dallas Mom Said Leaders of a Non-Profit Tried to Take Her Baby
‘This is movie stuff’ | How a Dallas mom says leaders of a nonprofit tried to take her baby | wfaa.com

Control and Protect: Collaboration, Carceral Protection, and Domestic Sex Trafficking in The United States
Control and Protect by Jennifer Musto – Paper – University of California Press

Trafficking Rescue Initiatives as State Violence:
39559-psl_122-1

Closing the Door on Survivors: How Anti-Trafficking Programs in the U.S. Limit Access to Housing
View of Closing the Door on Survivors: How anti-trafficking programmes in the US limit access to housing | Anti-Trafficking Review

How Breaking My Cycle Almost Broke Me: Surviving EverybodyTalksAbout

September 1, 2026**Justicia PoéticaJoyclyn

Excerpt from book:

Feeling his hand move on my back as I slept I turned towards him only to have his phone thrust in my face. Trying to focus I wrapped my hand around his as he held the phone and moved it away so I could focus and there on that phone, while laying in the bed next to him I saw a man, a dead man…. laying on what looked like a table with his entails hanging out. “What is that” I asked sleepily. “That’s that nigga, you know niggas don’t survive me they end up on slabs, in caskets.” Sitting up in the bed I looked at him as he begin to scroll I presume through other photos. “How did you get that?” From court, it’s evidence I have a right to it.” “You shouldn’t blame yourself” as I turned around and went back to sleep….”

🗣 Coming soon!

Yellow Roses, Friendships an Funerals

August 20, 2026Picture This! (JDPBPhotography)Joyclyn

(Funeral Flower, Zen Garden, 2025, #JDPBPhotography)

Yellow roses used to remind me of friendships, they used to remind me of my Sorority, they used to remind me of my mom, they were her favorite….

Now yellow roses reminds me of the time my landlord apparently thought of me after going to a funeral and decided to bring me yellow roses from that funeral…

Hearing a knock at my door, I was somewhat surprised as I rented a lower apartment of a house and no one really knew exactly where I stayed at. Emotionally exhausted from the new stress at work, I decided to ignore it and go back to sleep…

Then I heard the knock again. This time it was followed by “Hey Joyclyn we thought of you today; we brought you some yellow flowers from the funeral”…

Wait, what, I thought to myself. Sitting up in bed “thank you?,” “You can leave them outside the door I will grab them when I get up in a sec.”

Laying back down I soon drifted to sleep as I thought who brings people flowers from a funeral, from someone they didn’t know…

Feeling the vibration coming from my phone. I blindly managed to grab it through my sheet and quickly pressed the button… “Hello?” “Hey Joyclyn, Jim and I left you flowers, there outside your front door.” “Thank you.” “We thought of you while we were at my nephews funeral.” “Oh, ok,” “Well you sound like you are still asleep, I just wanted to make sure you got them.”

“I’m getting up now,” I said as I ended the call. Getting out the bed, half asleep I was low-key confused. It’s nice to be thought of but flowers from a funeral. I thought I had been dreaming but as I opened the door there they were, the most beautiful yellow roses I had ever seen.

I thought of taking them to my mom because she loved yellow roses but thought against, it. I didn’t feel comfortable taking flowers from someone’s funeral, especially someone I didn’t know….

Leaving the flowers there, I went back inside grabbed my phone and took a picture of one single rose, and then put the rest at their backdoor. They said I had to move right after that….

Watch My Seed bloom…

August 18, 2026Picture This! (JDPBPhotography)Joyclyn

(A park adjacent to the Pepperdine Malibu Campus the day before the Franklin Fire, Malibu, CA 2024, JDPBPhotography)

What a magnificent thing,

watching the waves break

against the shore while

standing in an orchestrated

fuel break. For what

seemed like miles all I saw

was charred remains of

what used to be. Oh how

this landscape paralleled my

life. It was hopeless; I was

hopeless; I felt hopeless….

that was until I was

reminded of the faith of a

mustard seed. Look at this, I

exclaimed! 3 little fire

followers,

Putting on my

glasses to get a better look;

these 3 sprouts demanded a

2nd look. How did these

pioneer species manage to

break this soil, lightly

stomping on the ground it

felt too hard to toil; yet they

did it, they broke through

Why can’t my faith be like

that, will my faith grow my

hope back?