Still We Rise

STILL WE RISE

IN HER OWN WORDS— THE STORY OF HOW ONE WOMAN’S STRUGGLE TO OVERCOME RAPE INSPIRED HER TO BE THE CHANGE.

WRITER & STYLIST: FIDGE FLETCHER MAKEUP: TEEAH ANDERSON PHOTOGRAPHY: WILLIAM RICHARDS

MODEL: ABBY-SADE BROOKS

Like the mythical phoenix rising from the ashes, so too has Abby-Sade Brooks overcome the odds to tell her story and rise as a true pioneer and survivor. A badass, powerful and strong survivor in the age of the #MeToo movement, Brooks is one of the co-founders of the anti-abuse movement in Jamaica, The Tambourine Army.

Founded in 2017 by eight extraordinarily brave, and very different women, The Tambourine Army is committed to uprooting the scourge of sexual violence and safeguarding the rights of women and girls. They offer a voice for those silent suffering survivors.

Brooks’ story isn’t new, or rare, but by sharing it she hopes it will be a story that motivates other women who have had similar struggles —empowering the survivors, whether through emotional, physical or even legal support. It is about shifting the blame, and through the “SayHisName” hashtag, placing the shame at the feet of the perpetrators.

Here is Brooks’ story, in her own words, as taken from her journal—an honour that she entrusted and shared with me—and now you—with words that have never been shared before.

“I never told anyone—who would I tell? He was my friend. The husband of the woman I was closest to and I loved him. He would never do anything to hurt me, right? After all, he said I was his soulmate.

I was 13 and in third form in high school when he began teaching music, and the high school choir was formed, well rebirthed, not long after. He was no stranger to me as we attended the same Seventh Day Adventist Church. He was very close to my mom and brother. Mommy often referred to him as her ‘big’ son. I saw him at church, I saw him at school. He visited my home freely, our bond was inevitable. He was a musical genius and singing was my life. I told him my biggest secrets, he told me four (yeah, mi jus quote India Irie, lol) and he didn't seem bothered when I said, “I think I like girls.”

It was easy to talk to him. But he held me a little too close and a little too long. One evening after the usual drop home from choir practice, he came into my room while I was changing out of my uniform and my life was never the same.

I cried and he comforted me. He said it was OK and that he loved me. I sobbed more and said no, but he assured me that everything would be just fine. This continued until I left Savanna-la-Mar for Northern Caribbean University, seven years after. We had sex everywhere and anywhere he wanted. In his car, in his office, at school, at church ... everywhere. I left high school with only one subject and if you know me, then you would have guessed it was English. My mom was livid, but mostly disappointed. She couldn’t understand how a once brilliant little girl just didn’t seem to care. And honestly I really didn’t give a !@#&. I didn’t want to live. The hurt, the pain, the recurring nightmares, the sleepless nights, that constant state of feeling dirty. The relationship between my mom and I became non-existent.

I was rebellious, and quickly chose the sting that came from cutting to overshadow the turmoil I felt internally. I was abused by him. What the !@#&??? I knew deep down it was wrong but I kept my secret close. No one knew but me. Until #saytheirnames and the rise of Tambourine Army.

On the 8th of January 2017, I sat in a Moravian Church along with seven other women to show support for a little girl who was sexually abused by the-now-convicted Rupert Clarke. I cannot forget the horror I felt. When a group of girls, presented their rendition of Kirk Franklin’s Lean on Me, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I remembered how I was once that same little girl singing so sweetly in the choir. I was her. I am her. I thought how while in high school it was rumoured—oh so many times—that the girls on the choir were ‘sleeping’ with the choir director, yet not one teacher, or any of the vice principals, or the principal, or even the guidance counsellor reached out to any of us to query if the rumours were true. I went to Nazareth and returned feeling vulnerable and conflicted. Did I encourage him? Did I enjoy it? What about his family? How could I encourage survivors to say their names when I couldn't say his?

I felt so broken that I, Abby-Sade Brooks, asked for help. Once again, if you know anything about me, then you would know that I rarely reach out to anybody, for anything. But, I was reminded by a set of warrior women, my Tambourine Army, that I am not at fault and whenever I was ready to speak they would be right there with me. Ladies, I am eternally grateful to you all. I had no idea what was gonna happen and I was truly afraid, but I was armed and ready. Ready to break the silence. Ready to speak my truth, because I was her. I am her. So on the 11th of January 2017, I finally mustered up enough courage and said his name on Facebook.

I wanted him—my former music teacher and choir director in high school; resource officer (or former mi-nuh-know) at the Jamaica Cultural Development Commission; Lieutenant in the Jamaica Combined Cadet Force; and Justice of the Peace in Savanna-laMar, Westmoreland—to know. I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid anymore and it was no longer our little secret.

I stand here this evening, my heart and mind filled with an array of different emotions and a furious desire to control my own future and path forward. I stand here sharing my own story in hopes that one little girl might feel empowered enough to say ‘I will no longer protect him’.

I stand here hoping and praying that one survivor may finally realize that it was not her fault and she did nothing wrong. They exploited our vulnerabilities and took our personhood. You were never wrong and the shame is not yours.

We believe you. ... I believe you, and you will not have to walk alone. It is possible to heal. We will fight for you and out of the pain, shame and hurt you will rise as we continue to try and create a better Jamaica for our women and girls, leaving no one behind.”