As a women’s memoirist, I read a lot of memoirs.
Ashley Ford’s powerhouse tale is the latest. Here’s the beauty of simple, straightforward writing catapulting us into deeply-bruised places. Feelings of not belonging, being valued or seen. While sharing astounding self-awareness and inner strength.
Exactly how does a child (and then grown woman) overcome abuse by her own mother, even as her father—behind bars for raping two women—triggers her own memories of being raped?
Well, by longing for him, even so, because she knows in her bones, he loves her.
Even so, she’s his little girl. And he’s her daddy.
No matter that he’s doing penance in prison. No matter that, in his absence, her mother hangs with abusive men needing their emotional and financial support. Men who treat Ashley badly, too.
Even so, she makes her way home.
Little by little. By leaving her family, and staying away. Falling and getting back up, until she can, once again, return to those she loves and who love her.
By learning to embrace her beautiful true self.
Isn’t this why we’re all here? Isn’t this what memoir commemorates?
