The Mission: To Regulate the Religious Perpetrators

     The same internet that suddenly became a safe space for men to process trauma, apparently was not built for women to process theirs. Because transparency is healing, until somebody else starts talking. Boundaries are growth until they’re directed at him. Sharing saves lives until the story was about someone surviving him. And suddenly “tell your truth” becomes “that should’ve stayed private.” Funny how vulnerability becomes sacred the second he’s the one holding the microphone.

Anyway.

The “Vent Space: Non Judgement™️”

Where “men can spill their motherfucking beans”…

but women are expected to suffer quietly through abandonment, sacrificed ambitions, derailed futures, humiliation, grief, unequal labor, childrearing, child loss, and the kind of pain that rarely gets rebranded as a healing journey. Only to then watch the person they experienced as causing that pain step onto a stage everyday and COSPLAY a “stout Muslim,” a guide, a healer, a leader, and a safe space for MEN.

A place for them to process.
A place for them to be heard.
A place for them to be forgiven.

But NOT a place for the women who experienced the TRUTH man behind the MASK.

The space got real quiet once I grabbed the mic. Space got closed down once I told my truth.

Because apparently vulnerability is beautiful UNTIL somebody walks in carrying a story HE didn’t authorize.

Apparently radical honesty has office hours.

Apparently “share freely” becomes
“not like that.”

And if the room closes the moment truth enters…was it ever a safe space?

Or just a stage?