Help Domestic Violence Survivor Live
Donation protected
UPDATE: We (me, my spouse, and cat babies) have moved! Please keep sharing and spreading the fundraiser.
I still need help affording my basic needs as my mobility is limited due to my disabilities.
Funds will go to my college education, transportation, food, toiletries, time to start a new career that doesn’t involve posting myself online, physical therapy, and specialized therapies for healing from intensive sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.
Thank you for making this possible!!!
*****
We need to move as soon as possible …
To those whom it may concern: My name is Nick, aka blackgirlsaregod. I am a writer, artist, and …….survivor. I’m coming to you to ask for help. I have been asking for help online for about seven years since my life was first threatened with domestic violence, since I became independent as an adult.
A large part of my needing so much help is directly linked to the abusers who hurt me, the economic system that expected me to survive in an expensive bay area at $15 an hour, and peers that helped abuse me also. It’s important to emphasize that people irl would view my content online and target me for having “privilege” (followers online; vanity metrics) and “power” (the tips that helped me afford things) and this line of thinking convinced them that my obvious victimhood was not worthy of addressing.
Different groups of people I thought I was safe with…. opted to gossip about me than tell each other about the violence I was experiencing, and protect me. (This is ironic to me because its not like I was the only artist with clout they knew—maybe it was ableism, colorism, or classism—since I was openly fundraising then and there are many barriers for those with low incomes to enter the arts…)
Going to the police at this point, AND at those points in the past, seems futile to me—my abusers have actual systemic powerful positions over me; DV survivors are often jailed themselves; going to court is something I know would make me more ill, depressed, and financially disenfranchised than I already am.
Since many of my abusers, former peers, and their allies don’t like me and since *I* am traumatized by them emotionally and financially, I would very much like to leave.
My PTSD has directly interfered with my ability to stay present and not dissociate; even my love of writing and art, being a writer and artist, has become a challenge and not a dream.
I never would have thought that I’d have thousands of people watching me—watching me make art, watching me try to survive my abusers without saying their names. When I did say names, I faced immediate backlash and disinvestment.
I don’t need to post videos of me being yelled at or photos of my bruises to be believed.
I can’t do this anymore. I have had the life sucked out of me.
I thought I would be able to survive and thrive in the place I was born.
I was wrong.
Fundraising has been very helpful for accomplishing living well in everyday life, but it has also made the social conditions of my existence strange and difficult.
At 19, I started to fundraise to get away from my brother who enjoyed beating me and yelling at me. This was necessary because my parents and extended family were not interested in protecting me emotionally or financially.
Although wealth exists in my family, it has been communicated to me that I Need to Work for Myself and Give MySelf a Life. How I was supposed to do this with minimum wage and a raging sibling, I’m not sure.
The funding from that fundraiser helped me move into a room with roommates. Over the years from 2017-2020 I experienced some unprecedented violence from the people I lived with that triggered me to fundraise and move again a total of three times. The peers I lived with also liked being verbally abusive, and spreading rumors about me.
This was very confusing for me because I was an abuse survivor struggling with depression, who also experienced sexual violence on a number of accounts while living with them. AND THEY KNEW THIS.
It didn’t help that peers close to the persons who sexually violated me, were not interested in supporting me through an accountability process or even fundraise as my body was falling apart from the impact of sexual violence.
Making more friends online with other disenfranchised Black women made me realize that peer abuse, roommate abuse was something they experienced as well.
In addition to this, I came to realize the mentors I met as a youth were grooming me and did not have the best in mind for me, as a child or as an adult. These people have positions in the professional arts and other industries and continue to work and teach. Obviously, this is triggering to me.
In 2020, I started doing okay. I figured out a way to make my Instagram art business (a revolving online gallery, I called it) to be profitable. I started to make plans to move from the place I was born, since it was and is full of peers and managerial persons who hate me/have actively tried to destroy my mind and body.
I met my partner, who is now my spouse. We adopted three cats. I fundraised for some supplies and equipment to fund my art and music career. “I am now a full time artist,” I said, but my body started to fail.
More Criticism and rumors from peers sent me into a manic spiraling depression and I was admitted to the psych ward. I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis and went to sleep crying because my hands, hips, and ankles were achingly inflamed even if all I did was sit all day.
…Its also of my opinion that sexual and emotional abuse has made an impact on the severity of the arthritis that I was discovered to have; as well as the chronic pain that became noticeably worse after I was attacked. (being able to continue receiving funds for my healthcare would be wonderful)
Before I was able to figure out how to create a newsletter, That Instagram blog was deleted, and so was most of my income with it. Now, I am fundraising once and for all again to Leave.
Not simply to rent, or to eat food, or to pursue my education–but also the insurance of moving costs once our family finds an opportunity of somewhere to go.
I’ve never felt so disgusted and sad in my life, that there were literally so many persons and economic obstacles that have prevented me from moving away sooner.
Even though I have a small following, those likes and shares are only vanity metrics and I wish the people from my past realized that I was not only an artist with thousands of followers and admirers, but also a domestic violence victim which this city despises.
For decades, Black families who have made Northern California their home for over a century have been fleeing.
Growing up, I wondered how anxious and sad my grandparents might have felt when they fled from the South to California. Now, I know.
Help me win this cause. The money from this gofundme will go toward continuing to pay rent, taking care of my cats, taking care of my spouse, and moving away.
Thanks for reading, share widely, and don’t give up on art.
Nick
I still need help affording my basic needs as my mobility is limited due to my disabilities.
Funds will go to my college education, transportation, food, toiletries, time to start a new career that doesn’t involve posting myself online, physical therapy, and specialized therapies for healing from intensive sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.
Thank you for making this possible!!!
*****
We need to move as soon as possible …
To those whom it may concern: My name is Nick, aka blackgirlsaregod. I am a writer, artist, and …….survivor. I’m coming to you to ask for help. I have been asking for help online for about seven years since my life was first threatened with domestic violence, since I became independent as an adult.
A large part of my needing so much help is directly linked to the abusers who hurt me, the economic system that expected me to survive in an expensive bay area at $15 an hour, and peers that helped abuse me also. It’s important to emphasize that people irl would view my content online and target me for having “privilege” (followers online; vanity metrics) and “power” (the tips that helped me afford things) and this line of thinking convinced them that my obvious victimhood was not worthy of addressing.
Different groups of people I thought I was safe with…. opted to gossip about me than tell each other about the violence I was experiencing, and protect me. (This is ironic to me because its not like I was the only artist with clout they knew—maybe it was ableism, colorism, or classism—since I was openly fundraising then and there are many barriers for those with low incomes to enter the arts…)
Going to the police at this point, AND at those points in the past, seems futile to me—my abusers have actual systemic powerful positions over me; DV survivors are often jailed themselves; going to court is something I know would make me more ill, depressed, and financially disenfranchised than I already am.
Since many of my abusers, former peers, and their allies don’t like me and since *I* am traumatized by them emotionally and financially, I would very much like to leave.
My PTSD has directly interfered with my ability to stay present and not dissociate; even my love of writing and art, being a writer and artist, has become a challenge and not a dream.
I never would have thought that I’d have thousands of people watching me—watching me make art, watching me try to survive my abusers without saying their names. When I did say names, I faced immediate backlash and disinvestment.
I don’t need to post videos of me being yelled at or photos of my bruises to be believed.
I can’t do this anymore. I have had the life sucked out of me.
I thought I would be able to survive and thrive in the place I was born.
I was wrong.
Fundraising has been very helpful for accomplishing living well in everyday life, but it has also made the social conditions of my existence strange and difficult.
At 19, I started to fundraise to get away from my brother who enjoyed beating me and yelling at me. This was necessary because my parents and extended family were not interested in protecting me emotionally or financially.
Although wealth exists in my family, it has been communicated to me that I Need to Work for Myself and Give MySelf a Life. How I was supposed to do this with minimum wage and a raging sibling, I’m not sure.
The funding from that fundraiser helped me move into a room with roommates. Over the years from 2017-2020 I experienced some unprecedented violence from the people I lived with that triggered me to fundraise and move again a total of three times. The peers I lived with also liked being verbally abusive, and spreading rumors about me.
This was very confusing for me because I was an abuse survivor struggling with depression, who also experienced sexual violence on a number of accounts while living with them. AND THEY KNEW THIS.
It didn’t help that peers close to the persons who sexually violated me, were not interested in supporting me through an accountability process or even fundraise as my body was falling apart from the impact of sexual violence.
Making more friends online with other disenfranchised Black women made me realize that peer abuse, roommate abuse was something they experienced as well.
In addition to this, I came to realize the mentors I met as a youth were grooming me and did not have the best in mind for me, as a child or as an adult. These people have positions in the professional arts and other industries and continue to work and teach. Obviously, this is triggering to me.
In 2020, I started doing okay. I figured out a way to make my Instagram art business (a revolving online gallery, I called it) to be profitable. I started to make plans to move from the place I was born, since it was and is full of peers and managerial persons who hate me/have actively tried to destroy my mind and body.
I met my partner, who is now my spouse. We adopted three cats. I fundraised for some supplies and equipment to fund my art and music career. “I am now a full time artist,” I said, but my body started to fail.
More Criticism and rumors from peers sent me into a manic spiraling depression and I was admitted to the psych ward. I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis and went to sleep crying because my hands, hips, and ankles were achingly inflamed even if all I did was sit all day.
…Its also of my opinion that sexual and emotional abuse has made an impact on the severity of the arthritis that I was discovered to have; as well as the chronic pain that became noticeably worse after I was attacked. (being able to continue receiving funds for my healthcare would be wonderful)
Before I was able to figure out how to create a newsletter, That Instagram blog was deleted, and so was most of my income with it. Now, I am fundraising once and for all again to Leave.
Not simply to rent, or to eat food, or to pursue my education–but also the insurance of moving costs once our family finds an opportunity of somewhere to go.
I’ve never felt so disgusted and sad in my life, that there were literally so many persons and economic obstacles that have prevented me from moving away sooner.
Even though I have a small following, those likes and shares are only vanity metrics and I wish the people from my past realized that I was not only an artist with thousands of followers and admirers, but also a domestic violence victim which this city despises.
For decades, Black families who have made Northern California their home for over a century have been fleeing.
Growing up, I wondered how anxious and sad my grandparents might have felt when they fled from the South to California. Now, I know.
Help me win this cause. The money from this gofundme will go toward continuing to pay rent, taking care of my cats, taking care of my spouse, and moving away.
Thanks for reading, share widely, and don’t give up on art.
Nick
Organizer
Nick Lovett
Organizer
Oakland, CA