On the 16th of March last year, I had a showing of the first play I ever wrote. It really all began the summer of 2012, I was attempting to read a book and then my mind began to wander. My first play really had nothing to do with that initial idea, it was really just me putting everybody else’s thoughts into words. I was still grateful for the experience nonetheless because it showed me that I could do it if I wanted to. In some way I feel it also showed where I was in my life at the time, I was more concerned about what other people wanted me to do than what I wanted for myself.

By the summer of 2013, I was at it again. This time I was going to write from my heart. It took a lot of poking and prodding from my family to get me to expand my vision but it was well worth it. By January this year, I had written something I was truly proud of. The play is centered around the theme of domestic violence. While I may have no personal experience of domestic violence, it hurts me to think that there are several people dealing with this everyday. I say “people” because while many women suffer physical abuse in the hands of men, there are also men who are abused by their partners. For some reason, I felt that I needed to tell this story; which is by no means a perfect representation but  felt that it captured a key piece in the problem of abuse: the disconnect between expectations and reality.

It became clear to me after reading several accounts from women who had lived through abusive relationships that they had held on to the image of who they thought they were with but the fact was, that man had changed. Often times, we continue to hope and trust that someone is just going through a “rough patch”. This expectation that he or she would once again become the person you thought they were at the beginning only leads to more hurt. Maybe that’s why many women remain. They don’t want to give up on somebody they care about so they stay to “help”, so that possibly at some point things would be as they were before. In not letting go, they become the woman that they pitied and despised. The one who didn’t recognize her worth and the one who was too blind to see how awful her abuser was.

I wrote this play with the hope of possibly touching somebody. Perhaps if I put a mirror up to their lives they might try to get help. Abuse is more than just the moment someone physically assaults you, it is the hurtful words, the disrespect, the lack of regard for your opinions or emotions. While some people are really just in a bad place in their lives and will rise above it, you need to know when to back away and be supportive from a distance.