Sacred Rage: The Fire That Purifies Silence

Content Warning:
This piece discusses sexual abuse, familial violence, and emotional trauma.
Please take care of yourself while reading — pause, breathe, or return later if you need to.
You are not alone, and your healing is valid, no matter where you are on your path.

Sacred Rage: The Fire That Purifies Silence

Rage isn’t chaos — it’s clarity.

♠

There are moments in life when silence becomes poison — when keeping the truth to yourself becomes another form of self-betrayal.

For years, I told myself that I didn’t need to share what happened to me.
That it was enough to heal quietly, to rise privately, to live without reopening the wound.

But I see now — that choice, that silence — wasn’t peace. It was submission.

The first breath after years of silence.

♠

I was sexually abused by my brother.

Not because I provoked it. Not because of anything I did. But because I was a child in a home where truth was too heavy for the adults to hold.

I kept that truth buried — not out of shame, not to protect him or that family — but because I didn’t think it was necessary to share the darkest period of my life with anyone.

Why should I have to?

But by not naming what I experienced, I was giving it power — keeping the abuser and enablers safe in the dark.

When truth shatters the old story.

♠

They are not like me.
They do not care about my peace — they never have.

When I first disclosed what happened as a teenager, they could have done something — anything.
If my mother cared, she wouldn’t have begged me to lie to the police when a friend I confided in told a nurse, and Child Protective Services got involved.

If they cared, they would have protected me.

They didn’t. So now, I am protecting myself — by bringing the truth into the light.

You failed, not me.

♠

How dare you come after my social media accounts — reporting me for using paid services to grow my following, reporting my stories for copyright?

What the fuck do you mean?

But thank you. Because now, I can see clearly — I was still seeing you all through rose-colored glasses, an illusion of who I hoped you were.

I had to delude myself into seeing your potential to survive living with you.

But no more.

Resilience looks like standing in the storm and choosing yourself.

♠

You will NEVER silence me again.

You have no power over me anymore — and that’s what terrifies you.

It scares you that people in every mosque you’ve ever attended might see who you really are, that your smears about me were just camouflage for your own wrongdoing.

You all knew. You all did nothing.

And little me — she thought your inaction meant there was something wrong with her.

There never was.

You were the adults. You just didn’t want to do the hard thing.
You failed, not me.

No more. This is the line.

♠

You thought I wouldn’t share it. You thought I was ashamed.

But I did nothing wrong.

I’ve known that for decades — thanks to therapy — but I didn’t see the point in repeating the same cycle of disclosing and being left with no protection.

I gave it to God. I focused on inner work, on healing myself, so that if I ever have the privilege to have children, I don’t pass on your generational poison.

Naming isn’t aggression — it’s alchemy.

♠

And yet — you had the audacity to think I wouldn’t tell the world that you begged me to lie.
“Don’t send my only son to jail.”

I thought I was doing the right thing by not disclosing this in my last blog.
But I went no contact less than a month ago — and still, you came after me.

You mistook my patience for passivity, my silence for forgiveness.
You made a big mistake.

Sacred rage clears what compassion cannot carry alone

♠

I accepted long ago that you would never show up as I needed.
That doesn’t mean I was going to let it go.

Maybe this is petty — but you came after me.
And I will never be attacked and stay quiet again.

Let’s not forget the rest — my eldest sister nearly broke my neck when I was eighteen.
My father physically assaulted me.
My middle sister verbally abused me.
My mother — the manipulator in chief — orchestrated the rest.

♠

I gave each of you opportunities to repair, to take accountability, to show even a glimmer of remorse.

You failed. Over and over.

And now, you’re worried about your image? About people finally seeing you for who you are?

You smeared me across towns, across mosques, across continents — painting me as unstable, rebellious, lost.

But all I ever was — was honest.

♠

I don’t enjoy writing this. It doesn’t bring me joy.

But clearly, it’s necessary.

You think because I appear to be alone that I am alone.
You couldn’t be more mistaken.

I don’t need to waste my energy fighting you — karma’s already doing its job.
I’ve pulled back my protective energy, stopped transmuting your pain.
I didn’t even realize that’s what I was doing — until I stopped.

Now I’m calling back my power — no longer carrying burdens that were never mine.

Leaving isn’t giving up — it’s choosing to live.

♠

Before you whine about this blog, know this: you brought this on yourselves.

I tried to end things with grace, with silence, with distance.
But you crossed a line.

And I will not be silent ever again — not for anyone.

♠

To those reading who aren’t part of that lineage: thank you for being here.

I apologize for the heaviness of this space, but I needed to say what was unsaid — to clear the energetic weight from my field.

If you’re still reading, I appreciate your open heart.

Forgiveness is sacred, yes — but some things are unforgivable.

My rage isn’t destruction — it’s resurrection.

♠

I needed to name this truth publicly to release the binding that kept me tethered to their shadows.

Sometimes, tit for tat is exactly where it’s at.

Because sometimes, to rebuild trust with your past selves — the inner child, the adult survivor, the future self you’re becoming — you have to step into the shadow and own it out loud.

♠

Just because I’m not comfortable in the dark doesn’t mean I need to avoid it.

Maybe your path calls for quiet detachment — and that’s valid.

But for me?
I spent too long shining my light on people who only used it to cast deeper shadows.

♠

So yes — I had hoped to save this for a time when I could speak with more polish, more grace.
But c’est la vie.

We make plans — and the universe reveals the real path forward.

♠

Peace isn’t silence — it’s the fire finding purpose.

♠

Author’s Note

This piece is not for revenge — it’s for release.
It’s for the countless survivors who were told to “forgive and forget,” to swallow the poison and call it peace.

Silence has never protected the innocent. It’s only protected the guilty.

If you are navigating your own sacred rage, may you understand: anger is not your enemy.
It’s a compass pointing toward what still deserves justice.

You don’t owe silence to anyone who harmed you.
You owe yourself freedom — and the courage to speak your truth.

With fire, faith, and freedom,
– HigherHeartWarriorChannel