I once had a one-night-stand tell me that I “didn’t smell like other black people,” as if I were one of those hairless cats, an animal bred to be less offensive to his senses.
At one point, I got on birth control pills. He told me they were making me fat and he “jokingly” flushed them down the toilet.
In a country where domestic violence is often hidden away behind closed doors, it’s exploding onto the streets. The question is: what are we, collectively, going to do about it?