[POETRY] My Third Eye

January 11, 2015

By Jayne Dough

[Trigger Alert: This poem contains graphic descriptions of physical violence]

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I took a beating for you

once

drawing the assailants away

away from our home, away from my sister, away from you.

I stood, letting the blows land hard against me.

The object was not my safety.

My face got the worst of it,

til it had the same half-moon quality my mother’s had, after brain surgery, chemo and steroids.

I still bear the scar.

A raised bump that sits over top of my third eye…

I don’t care that you fucked some baby mama’s baby daddy, angering the neighbourhood.

I don’t care that you didn’t fight for me,

or that your fingers shook too hard to dial 9-1-1.

I don’t care that you cried,

or that you watched,

that you followed as they beat me.

I don’t care that it was me instead of you.

I only want to know why – WHY – you let them in the house.

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Jayne Dough is a pseudonym adopted to honor the Toronto woman, Jane Doe, who bravely sued the police for mishandling her rape case. Although we don’t know her name, Jane Doe helped a generation of women in the city of Toronto. Jayne Dough writes as one of the many unnamed women who have endured and supported a cycle of abuse. Now coming from a place of security and peace, she wants to be outspoken about her experience. Much gratitude to The Ride or Die Project for creating a platform that embraces the intricate complexity of these issues. Much love.