Words can sometimes be more hurtful than blows. The constant insults, verbal degradation and emotional threats undermined my self-confidence and instilled a permanent fear. Every cutting word left an invisible scar, profoundly affecting my self-perception. Psychological manipulation was a silent but devastating weapon. Mind games, distortion of reality and control tactics were used to keep me in a state of constant confusion and uncertainty. This psychological violence destroyed my mental and emotional stability.

Today, I met 2 little girls. 5 and 7 years old. Back to school in 2nd grade and kindergarten. The little one talked to me the most. Of course, she told me about my unicorn hair, my gemstone necklaces (diamonds!), my union armband (haha!), and then my tattoos. This little girl, among other things, told me that she often cried. I replied that I did too, and that it was okay to cry. Then she told me about her daddy. Her unkind daddy... This little girl started kindergarten, her 1st school year, without coming home. Why not? Because right now, she's living in a Women's shelter with her sister and brother. I haven't been able to talk to her mom. But bravo to her. Thanks for her courage to seek help, to get out of the relationship. In doing that, she is ensuring a future for her children....and for herself. This little girl is certainly in a whirlwind of emotion, but she won't sink.

March 8, the date of my new beginning... THE best decision of my life. It's already been 5 years since I chose to listen to my little voice. The one that had long been telling me to respect myself, that happiness was waiting for me not too far away, that I deserved better than crumbs of love. On March 8, 2020, International Women's Rights Day, I took all the courage I had left and left this prison with its invisible walls. That day, I made a promise to my heart and soul that NEVER again would anyone hurt them. I was well aware that I was leaving a hell to start a nightmare, but I was ready, my survival instinct had taken over. When I took off my transparent muzzle, I discovered an unknown world and met many new people (masters, agents, TS, DPJ, prosecutors, investigators, DPCP, judges, etc.), each more competent and passionate than the last. But I also got to know our “too-gentle-lent-and-ignorant” justice system in Quebec.... One that makes it impossible for professionals to protect victims from invisible wounds. When I look back, I see fear, scars, courage, injustice, suffering, acceptance, letting go, guilt, frustration and a lot of resilience... but I also see respect, love, gentleness, freedom, gratitude and kindness galore.

I was a victim of physical violence, acts of brutality that left visible and invisible marks. The blows, slaps and physical assaults created an atmosphere of constant terror, making me fear every moment spent at my attacker's side. A particularly traumatic aspect was the sexual violence, a profound violation of my person and dignity. This form of violence left indelible scars, affecting not only my perception of intimacy, but also my confidence in future relationships.

We have the right to be happy, we have the right to have a real smile on our face, we have the right to feel good! We're strong, we're beautiful and, above all, we're capable! We have the right to laugh, to go for walks, to shop as we please, to have our own personal belongings, to have a cell phone without constant surveillance. We have the right not to want sex, even if our partner does! WE HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO BE AFRAID IN OUR OWN HOME!

Economic violence was an insidious facet of my ordeal. Restricted access to financial resources, controlled spending and economic dependence created an additional trap, complicating any escape. Economic violence extended the chains of my captivity.

As I write these lines, it has been three months since I left the man who made my life a living hell. I finally respected myself and chose to leave, to live a better life—my life—one filled with calm and respect. I will always remember the time when, before leaving for work, he questioned me about my plans for the day, since I was on maternity leave. I told him I wasn’t really sure, but that I might go to my parents’ place. My answer angered him deeply, and without my realizing it, he went to work with our baby’s car seat, to prevent me from leaving the house and to control me. I was devastated. How could the man who was supposed to love me do such a thing?

When he was angry with me in the car, he started driving fast and hard. He hit the steering wheel, he kicked the gas pedal... it was terrifying. I was always afraid that he would eventually lose control of the car and cause us to have an accident. When the kids were in the car with us, it was even worse for me... I still have nightmares about it.

Many have said to me: "stop living in the past, move on, forget it, you're hurting yourself, you're stopping yourself from moving forward, you're victimizing yourself...". I'd like to reply that that's what we want from the depths of our hearts, but every day reminds us of what we've been through: a word, a caress, a look... everything. But it's paradoxical... because for the aggressors, on the other hand, society often excuse their behaviors by saying that they had an unhappy childhood, that they were perhaps also victims of violence... See the problem ?? I think that's enough and that we, as citizens, have to do something about it.

“You have to accept it because you're a Muslim”, ‘If you don't do this, God will change your destiny’, ‘Women must be submissive to their husbands or it will fall on their children’. From small decisions to very big ones, he manipulated me by mobilizing religion. He hid his own desire to control me behind religious references and threatened me with punishment not from him but from God. Getting out of this control without losing your faith requires a lot of courage and assertion, but once you've done that, you gain power and control. Then you can live your faith the way you feel comfortable. Unfortunately, I see around me that too many women experience situations of violence based on religious/spiritual/cultural or identity arguments. Thank you for your help, -A woman who is totally liberated

She knew that my family didn't know about my sexual orientation. I have a very traditional family and I knew I was risking a lot to tell them. She told me that if I didn't tell them, it meant that I wasn't really a lesbian and that I was a "wannabe". She kept calling me "wannabe", even in front of our friends. It even became my nickname.. The day I left her, she called my mother and told her everything.

I'll always remember the woman at the Théâtre de la Dame de Coeur who accidentally witnessed a “crisis” that combined a hateful tone with a lot of disparaging remarks about me. She discreetly told me: “You don't have to put up with this”. I'll never forget the look on her face. Without realizing it, that day she planted a seed of hope.