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The Stolen Humanity

October 15, 2018 - Comment

The story of this book is about my Stolen childhood aboard with emotional, physical and sexual abuse by people I trusted. I had serieous suicidal attempts by overdoses, carbon monoxide and jumped off from 42ft high bridge at age 15. As an adult I was oppressed, physically, psychologically tormented and raped more than once. For

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(as of October 15, 2018 9:48 am GMT+0000 - Details)

The story of this book is about my Stolen childhood aboard with emotional, physical and sexual abuse by people I trusted. I had serieous suicidal attempts by overdoses, carbon monoxide and jumped off from 42ft high bridge at age 15. As an adult I was oppressed, physically, psychologically tormented and raped more than once. For all that, my ultimate human right was truly violated when I was alluded by human trafficker who entrapped me in prosititution. This sex slavery operation was contributed by Korean government and the U.S. military forces in South Korea since the Korean War in 1950’s. Nevertheless, against all odds I prevail my individuality with the dignity and reclaimed power of my voice lied within me. After coming to America, I became single mother of 3 children with 6th grade education and with limited resources. At age 52, I got my GED and pursued for higher education while maintaining full time job at mental health field. It latterly took me 12 years to finally receive Master’s in Psychology. I was 64 years old when I walked on the stage to receive my depolma in front of my children and their own family and continue to work in field of psychology at age 70. My proud children are all grown, have their own family and doing well. I have 3 grand children and one great granddaughter. The reason it took me so long to write my story was the fear of sacrificing my children’s welfare. They may have to deal with the stigmatism and judgement from others because of my true identity from the past. Would they be embarrassed for the path that I have traveled? Would they be ashamed of me as their mother or resentful for me afflicting emotional disturbance on them? I was torn by the questions “should I keep silence till day I die?” Or “clame the power of my voice” and be an instrument others, a voice for those who continue to suffer from ignorance of others. Nonetheless, I was one of the lucky ones to be set free from the mental and physical degradation and I feel that I owe it to those women who died and were buried in an abandoned field. I owe it to women who have been kept silence, marginalized by government, murdered and forgotten. God bless America the land of opportunity and the place I call home…

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