Grasping for Power

My sweet friend shares beautiful, painful words for us women, everywhere.

Mustaches and Tiaras

The truth stings when it reveals your sin.

So you attack.

Out of instinct.

Out of fear.

Insecurity.

Pleasure.

You don’t care if I’m your daughter, your wife, your sister, your mother, your cousin, your niece, your co-worker, your friend.

You care about power. Always grasping for power.

Which we take away by merely existing—or worse, when we open our mouths.

Forget that this power, served to you on a silver platter, is your birthright according to this world.

Forget that our power comes at the price of recurring nightmares, PTSD, and a litany of therapy bills.

Remember, dear one who feels powerless, there is Someone who holds all true power.

What brings me comfort is knowing we serve the ultimate Power who is not passive on justice.

My hunger for justice is palpable.

You will never know the gut wrenching, heart ripping, soul screaming NEED for justice until your…

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