A word about the VU Anniversary Video
I missed somebody and I feel terrible.
I am not a videographer. I’ve got a decent Macbook with some great software that came pre-installed, but before I made last week’s anniversary video I’d never so much as blown the dust off it. It took me all day (and many frantic emails to savvier friends) to figure out how to cobble together what I did. I am proud of the result, but let’s just say I won’t be making another one anytime soon.
There were many survivors who were not pictured in the video, either because they weren’t comfortable with putting their faces out there or they weren’t able to get a photo to me–no big deal. Unfortunately, there was someone who sent me a photo and somehow, someway, it fell through the cracks. I didn’t discover my mistake until today, as I was cleaning out my email inbox. Keith never said anything; I only found out by accident.
I can’t tell you how terrible I feel about this.
Keith Smith is a survivor. He was one of the first survivors to post his story on VU, and he is one of the few males to have done so–which makes his story so vital, because men need safe places to speak out and seek support. I’m honored he did so on VU, and I’m deeply sorry I messed up.
Keith, I’m so sorry I missed your photo in the video. I would redo the whole thing if I didn’t think it would take a week and possibly ruin it entirely. I hope you’ll accept my apology.
Thank you all for the incredibly warm celebration you gave VU last week. For your comments, your emails, your Tweets, your posts, I am eternally grateful. Thank you especially to all the survivors; those who have already spoken out, and those who are still patiently awaiting their turns.
And, to Keith. Thank you.
First Anniversary Celebration, Violence UnSilenced* UPDATED
One year ago today, Violence UnSilenced launched.
I find myself at a loss for words, so I’ll just let this video do the talking.
Thank you all, so very, very much.
UPDATE: I missed somebody! I feel so terrible. Please read this.
If you would like to join these survivors, email your post to maggie [at] violenceunsilenced [dot] com. If you would like to support these survivors, please read and comment on the stories posted twice weekly here. If you would like to offer further moral support to Violence UnSilenced, visit the pledge page to add a badge to your site. To learn more about Violence UnSilenced, read the about page. Thank you.
2010 Bloggie Awards
I’m not gonna say much here because I’m pretty speechless. So I’ll keep this short and sweet.
Violence UnSilenced is a finalist for Best Community Blog in the 2010 Bloggie awards. It’s a huge honor, and regardless of the outcome of the voting, it’s already a priceless victory in terms of exposure. So many people will learn about VU now.
Most of all, I can’t imagine a more appropriate category.
This site belongs, and has always belonged, to all of us.
Thank you so much.
(and, if you’re so inclined, you can vote here.)
More importantly, please read and support the survivor below this post, and survivors before her, and the many, many survivors to come.
In Memoriam (by Maggie, dammit)
When I was in eighth grade I was jealous of this girl named Tracy. She attended a neighboring school and she was beautiful; long, dark hair, gorgeous eyes, thin. Our basketball teams played against each other and I used to watch her from my usual spot on the bench while my boyfriend watched her from the crowd. I wanted to be her. In that teenage angsty way, I wanted her life. I thought she had everything.
Four days ago, Tracy’s body was found in the trunk of her own car, along with the body of her two-year-old daughter. Across town, another beautiful young woman and her own 2-year-old daughter were found shot to death. The suspect, still at large, is the father of both dead children.
Today I’m feeling wretchedly grateful for a life that is mine, not anyone else’s. But I have to admit something awful. In times like this, my faith in what we’re doing here is shaken.
I’ve had a few days to stew inside this and I think, the older I get, the better I understand that faith is something that needs to be actively nurtured. You can’t just ignore it and expect it to be there when you need it. Much like love, it has to be nearly lost over and over again so that you’ll appreciate it, so that you’ll really know its worth. We have to want faith, actively fight for it, like a privilege instead of a right. We have to scrape ourselves out of bed when we just don’t want to. We have to stand up and fight another day.
Yes, I think I lost my faith for a few hours this weekend. Maybe even a day or two. But I am getting it together and I am working hard to believe and I am remembering every brave, gracious word ever printed on Violence UnSilenced, both by triumphant survivors and by you who support them. You are all so important. I know this is worthwhile work. I also know we may not ever see a resolution. I guess faith means continuing to do it anyway.
I’ve decided not to run survivor stories on Violence UnSilenced this week. Instead, I’ll be posting an interview with the executive director of Domestic Abuse Intervention Services.
I also want this week to serve as a place-marker in time for those who never had the opportunity to speak out here. I want to give a hat tip to their souls.
Tracy. Amber. Deja. Neveah. I pray you find the peace in your resting that was stolen from you in your life. Now that you’ve put your burden down, I hope the rest of us will pick it up.
Survivor stories will resume next week.
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Cross-posted at Okay, Fine, Dammit
