I don't know what to do

My country is a desert when it comes to help for women. It used to be an oasis in comparison to what is happening now. I can’t even call a hotline for women without a trans-identified male person answering the phone. And when one has experienced so much sexual violence, including from them, I’d sooner search for 2 doctors to qualify me to be state sponsored murdered, than give a man (or sadistic woman, for that matter) fetish material.

When you’re isolated, phone lines can be life lines. A compassionate woman with minimal training can out do any high priced the-rapist in making themselves unnecessary for spans of time that no therapist has ever been able to out do. Sometimes your stories are so dark, you don’t want to see the woman’s face. Because if you care for women, if you adore them, as I do, you don’t want to burden them with your shit. And so, it stops you from sharing. Even when you know you need to let it out.

My “community” doesn’t exist. I doubt it ever did. But, I was happier for whatever illusion, I believed I was living in. Despite that clear and present homophobia, back in the day, I’d take it all over again, if I could have my spaces of solace and refuge restored. My country is a desert. And I don’t know what to do, but scream out into a void, in hopes of finding you.