I stayed away from the topic, the life of this young girl as long as I could. Until, it became imperative that I add my voice to her chorus of supporters.
Bresha Meadows was 14 when she murdered her father, whom was abusive to her, her mother and two other siblings. She shot her father while he was sleeping on couch with a gun he kept in the house. She has been in juvenile detention over a year, and as of this month, I believe this week, she has been released and now she can go home.
However, nothing is normal about this. Nothing. About. This. Is. Normal.
I could expound on domestic violence, the lack of resources to this family and the horrible predicament her mother was in, and why it took so much, and so long, and so wrong to get to this point. I could even focus on Bresha…but right now, I want to focus on the world by which both coincide.
We have a nation by which sexualizes, disrespects and utterly disregards women and girls. We are valued for what we have under clothes, and how well those attributes serve the male populace. Even the current, sitting president is quoted to have you have to treat women like shit, and “You can do anything you want to do. Grab ’em by the pussy.” With that said, imagine what it is like to be a young girl seeing all this, and more and the man that is supposed to be your buffer towards that perpetuating it. Being an adult female affords your some defense, you can maneuver and speak–but a 14 year old girl?
In the maze of growing up, the changes that it involves, it is hard and almost hell-bent to find a soft place to fall and regroup. Home is supposed to be one of those places. Its supposed to be where you can heal, be healed and breathe. You should not have to fight the world, and the people that live in your immediate world. This child, this young woman, thought the only solace could be, would be, to eliminate the source of that pain, that fear and contempt. The fact that it was her father is more egregious.
Bresha found that no one was able to help her, unless she had to help herself. Her mother was refused the help she needed from the law (she had applied for a restraining order, and we all know just how good those work, right), or anyone else around her. Or perhaps they knew and still couldn’t help her. There was no older sibling or superhero to help her. From that, Bresha chose to murder her father…to make it all stop. With that shot, her world spun off the hinges–and affected ever axis thereafter.
Bresha shot the man that should have been able to tell her that she was beautiful, valuable, and brilliant. The man that should have been able to take a bullet for her, and to remind her that he is the first and last man that will and would love her. He should have been the arms that protected her, wizened her to the world that desired to dismantle her.
As she squeezed the trigger, and her heart exploded in her chest and ears from its release, I can imagine the tears, the confusion, the rage and her collapse after. I could only imagine, and grief that Bresha realized the fairy tales where real, and there really are dragons. There really are monsters in closets and under beds, and you don’t need lights to see them. And that may be the scariest thing.
*-It seems to always take blood and strife for lasting change. Bresha Meadows is not just a hashtag. She is a young woman with a massive amount of healing to do, repairing to do, and it will indeed take a village to help her. That village cannot just be composed of hash tags, letters and proponents of attention. There is a component of therapy that goes beyond counsel and that is healing. This young woman and her family are in need of a safe space–at last. They should be allowed to regroup as a family without their pain prostituted. The remarkable thing about this situation is now, through virtue of voice, pain and action, we can discuss, indeed, what happens behind closed doors–and why it matters.