The first sibling I had who committed suicide I didn't even know I had until I went looking for him.
My mother gave him up for adoption when it was unheard of to have a child out of wedlock.
Her parents sent her away, they were never there for her anyway.
She married later. https://twitter.com/RedloraineV/status/1088513204513206272

A terrible man who made my dad look like a saint. She had five more kids, which of course is what attracted my father to her.

Was after my father died that she told me about Burell. My first brother. The one she gave away.

I conducted an internet search an actually found him.

He was a sad and lonely man who sought a little information but rejected connection.

Once again the promise of a family member dissolved.

Shortly after learning the circumstances of his birth he committed suicide.

My mother's only comment,"well, at least he was handsome."

No matter how many times I was exposed to the malignant narcissism of my parents i never got used to it. The lack of empathy was always so foreign to myself that it almost required interpretation.

These are the unnecessary stories.
The tales that weren't meant to be.

This is why domestic violence matters. Why we need shelters, grants, legal representation & fuel for rebuilding lives.

This is why we can't turn our backs on familial racism. Because it goes hand in hand with abusive systems.

Everything is connected.

We must provide support

To the most vulnerable. Which means those fleeing domestic violence. Children & spouses of abuse must have advocates because if we don't those w empathy will self-harm & those without empathy will strike against the innocent & cause violence.