Think about the family
We keep talking about the pain it causes our families
I know that, I am them
I am the one that held on to stories of violence so hard I bled
Held on to secrets of feeling unsafe
Felt my insides explode, cancer in my belly, pain in my chest
I too felt it was no ones business
So I kept on holding on
Explosions continued in my body, on others faces, on my arms
Growing up I began to think these secrets were normal
This fear and uncertainty I kept inside
Comfortable
Was love, was safety
But I cannot hold and explode
No more
Hate me for being hateful
Raging is not peaceful
But exploding is not either
I know that now
Is this the pain you speak of?
The one you want us to keep quiet about
So that our families can be at peace?
But this peace you speak of are explosions that we hold
And they keep the bombs sacred
Ready to go off
MalintZINE 
It pains me to know that the patriarchy sets the expectation that women are the receptacles for pain, for trauma, for suffering, and that it is their responsibility to internalize and contain that violence. God forbid the abuse is left out in the open, forcing men to see it, forcing them to acknowledge that it is there, maybe even deal with it themselves.