Domestic Violence Awareness Month: Maggie I Still Think of You

This month of October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I have in recent years become privy to this, due to the loss of my cousin Magalie Placide. This loss was literally the most shocking event in my life. I didn't know she was in an abusive relationship with her husband. I didn't realize a family I lived within 5 minutes of by car had such a big secret for so long. A family I celebrated birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas with every single year. A family I went to the movies with and Disney due to Maggie's job plug. A family I felt the closest to all my life, was a family that had such a destructive secret that literally split this family up. With a mother buried, a father imprisoned, and a grandma and siblings surviving, this is not the same family I knew and loved for 17 years.

In spaces and settings, we have connectors. People or things that make relationships and communities that much more special. There's that matriarch or funny friend or just common idea that allows people to relate to one another more. Maggie was my connector to the Placide family. She was my connector to tradition. She was my connector to being a bold woman. As I've said before, she was always showing me love. She'd call me sexy and always tried to boost my confidence. It was never in a way that felt unsafe, though as a young shy girl yes I was embarrassed. But Maggie saw me. She acknowledged me in a way that allowed me to feel like more than the relative that everyone would call fat, then disregard. She always kept it real with me, admitting to not ever praying and how she wishes she focused on her career more. Maggie was never the judgmental Haitian auntie that I come across more than I'd like to admit. She really saw me and I always appreciated that about her. Maggie is my connector. She connects me to her mother, who I adore and her children who are my favorite cousins. With Maggie gone, I've unfortunately noticed how I've dramatically distanced myself from her family. Even my idea of family has been altered now that she's gone.

I firstly, distanced myself, literally. I moved all the way to New York from Florida in the heat of just losing her. Within a couple of weeks of burying her, I was on an airplane to the north. This caused me to neglect calling, checking in and just overall being present for the kin left behind. Years have passed, yet the rekindling of the family is not happening for me. It feels at times like I haven't accepted the fact that Maggie isn't here. She is no longer with us. And I have to come to this realization in real time. I need to stop praying for Maggie, which is freakishly habitual. I need to stop confusing family with Maggie when recounting a story. What I need to do is fight for Maggie's life, through fighting for the abused today. People I know, people I come across and people who are too afraid to speak up are being abused. They may mask it with smiles and jokes. They make put up a wall, but the case still remains that we can help them. There is never a situation presented where looking away is the option; and I want to step into that truth fully by aiding other victims.

Domestic violence is just as prevalent today as it was last year. There are still so many women, and men too, that are dealing with some form of abuse. Whether physical, emotional, verbal, manipulative, sexual or financial, abuse is out there and oppressors spare no mercy to their victims. We know the victim typically is very close to their abuser. We know there are signs and symptoms we can look out for. We know the abuser typically only terrorizes their victim and we shouldn't be afraid to confront them. These are things we can be mindful of to stop this cycle. Ultimately we must acknowledge how we inherit the abusive habits we witnessed our abusers enact. Trauma doesn't heal if we don't acknowledge it. There doesn't have to be more stories of phone calls during the holidays of tragic news like this. Domestic violence can be shifted. Once we realize consent is a must, we don't owe our partners sex if we don't want it, keep your hands to yourself and that we all have valid feelings, then we can move forward.

Maggie, I am still so sorry this is how I lost you. I'm so sorry this is how your family lost you. I'm so sorry you didn't get to complete your studies to become a nurse. I'm sorry you lacked the support and help you needed. I'm so sorry, Maggie. I know I will soon bring pride and honor to your name. I don't want you to be remembered for your death, but celebrated for your wonderful, blessed  and powerful life. And you very much will be.