#MeToo Fallout + Afro In Heels + A Father in Botswana: Letlhogonolo Peter

A couple of posts ago, I wrote about abuse I’ve experienced at the hands of family members. When I learned some people only partly understand what the #MeToo movement is, my last post clarified how #MeToo is about survivors. #MeToo stops the cycle, lets survivors know they’re not alone, and teaches compassion. When I unburdened myself of keeping lifelong secrets to protect those who abused me and those who enabled them, it was to join all who work toward a better world. My father passed away years ago. My brother is past retirement age and past putting his now adult kids through college. (As you might imagine, the emotional hangover has wrecked havoc on my novel writing.)

I’m utterly indebted, dear virtual friends, for the kind words of many of you. My real life dear ones, who I call family rather than relatives, have also helped me through.

Much as I’ve worked a lifetime to prove otherwise, call it my attempt to prove myself unique from the Western culture I’m part of, the world doesn’t contain enough emotional distance to escape that I am a leaf on an ancestral tree wherein those on the closest branches have the least genuine regard for me.

Over the years before #MeToo, I had spoken out to select relatives. One gaslighted me and said I think too much. An extended relative made it clear they didn’t want me making waves. One severed contact when I mentioned my intention to write a letter to our father, stating that while I wouldn’t tell…