Imagine a
woman in a state of psychosis.
Her eyes tell you the pain she lives.
The anxiety
of her past speaks in an insecure, aggressive way that colours her voice with a
restless, broken heart. She searches for a listening ear to tell her
truth even while she accuses you and her environment of being a spy who follows her
in every breath she takes. Even when you are a
murderer in her eyes, someone who tortured her, she holds on to you
because instinctively she knows she can trust you.
Words chatter between her need
to be supported and her fight to accept she was a victim of trafficking. Her
fear for being imprisoned by the bad men withholds her to tell the concrete
facts of her story. It keeps her unconsciously from the freedom she searches out of the conditions women's refuge need to follow to give shelter to
her.
Imagine that same woman being without papers, no home, desperately searching for a safe place. She knocks at your door as a little child that is in search for a warm nest.
You are aware of her struggle, her desperation to find a way out of that hellish place as she names it. Still, there is no place for her. In our society we need a paper to be treated in a hospital, to be taken care of as a human. We need to be normal for the safety of others. Can you tell what that is?
Imagine yourself of being that woman abused by her traffickers. Brainwashed by power, money, hunger for sex.
Imagine yourself being thrown in the street as a dog that gets his pet identity card easier than you.
Imagine yourself suddenly remembering the horror you went through from six years until the fifty year old woman you are now.
Imagine you finally finding the courage to start to tell your story, yes in a psychosis whereto women’s refuge deny your demand for support. Out of the danger it can be for their inhabitants. Can you get it ?while you only asked for a bed.
