Page 66 of Behind the Bars

No.

It never got easier, saying that word. It never became numb or meaningless when I said it to someone who gave himself permission to place his hands on me. The way eyes looked me up and down when I walked into a room…the way they’d judge me on everything I was and everything I wasn’t…the way they’d whisper as I stood still in theroom.

She’s sexy. She’s hot. I bet singing ain’t all her mouth cando.

I’d just turned twenty-two, and I knew mortification more than the average person. I knew what it felt like to stand in a room, fully clothed, and still be told that I called the attention to myself. To be called a tease when I did absolutely nothing at all. I knew what it felt like to be told I’d find more success if I showed more tits and ass duringshows.

I always showed up and did my job—nothing more, nothing less. I kept my clothes on, I kept my voice low, and I kept sayingit.

No.

No.

Stopit.

Don’t.

But that didn’t stop them from belittling me. That didn’t stop them from taking me from show to show, meeting to meeting, and presenting me as if my body was a bargaining chip. As if I were a prized possession, not a human being. Mama allowed it all, too. I was her star, her shining light. I was going to do everything she’d been unable to ever accomplish, because that’s what kids are supposed to do, as she’d told me numeroustimes.

We’re supposed to be better than ourparents.

I am already better than myparent.

If I had children, I’d never treat them that way. I’d love them. I’d protect them. No matterwhat.

I hadn’t signed up forthis.

I hadn’t known what I was getting myself into when I entered the musicindustry.

I signed up for Mama, for her love. Her respect. Her heart. Over time, I’d realized it was never going to come my way. No matter how hard Itried.

In every story ever told, a person reached a limit. Everyone had a breaking point, and I reached mine July30th.

On July 30th, the voices in my head became too loud. On July 30th, I packed my bags in the middle of the night. On July 30th, my heart screamed at me to run, so Iran.

I ran as fast as my legsallowed.

I ran as far as I couldgo.

Then I ran somemore.

I bought a one-wayticket.

I sat on anairplane.

On July 31st, 2017, with pain in my chest and scars on my soul, I finally wenthome.

Part II

“The things we truly love stay with us always, locked in our hearts as long as liferemains.”

-JosephineBaker

Chapter Twenty

Jasmine

Whenever I thought of home,I didn’t think of a place. I thought of people. I thought of the ones who’d shaped me into the woman I’d become, the ones who’d loved me with my scars and told me those scars were beautiful, the ones who’d allowed me to make mistakes and still lovedme.

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