This month’s #SurvivorSunday feature is the fearless Evangelist Detra Williams. A walking testimony of faith and resilience, Detra shares an excerpt from her book ‘Wounds to Wisdom: The Survivor Series Volume 2’, taking us on her journey from childhood sexual abuse to domestic violence. Her transparency and passion will leave you near tears for the girl she once was, yet applauding the woman she has become. **TRIGGER WARNING**

Detra’s Story:

I was born May 24, 1966, in Longview, Texas in a small area of town called Fox Hill. My mother was the youngest of 12 kids, and she was only 17 years old when I was born. When I was only 6 months old, my mother married the man that later became my father. I may not have his blood running through my veins, but I am every bit his twin. He moved the family to Dallas, Texas along with his mother (my grandmother). Later, there were 2 more children born from this marriage. Life as I remember started well. Parents and grandmother worked, we ate the best food, and we lived in a very nice neighborhood. But like any other family, there was a dark secret; things were not as it appeared in public because behind closed doors life was Hell. My parents were alcoholics, and my father was an abuser. He would beat my Mom with whatever he could get his hands on. But mainly he would break the broom handle and beat her with that, or he would be so mad that he would sometimes use the butt of his gun. They would always send us outside. But of course, we could hear everything, we would pretend that it did not bother us. He would not beat us as he did our mother but we sure did get some serious spankings. With all these family secrets, you would think that was all. However, at the young age of 7 years old, my life was getting worse. It was late in the midnight hour in early spring of 1974. A few months before my 8th birthday; as I slept in my bedroom that I shared with my baby sister, who was 3 years younger than me, I felt a light touch shaking my big toe. I woke up to see a dark figure standing at the end of my bed waving for me to follow him. A brief time later, I returned to my room crying and shaking, not understanding what just happened to my body.

A few months had passed, and that light touch was still shaking my big toe to wake me up. Not knowing what to do and since this had gone on for months, I decided to ask that one question, “Why are you doing this to me.” The answer was very shocking. “If you were my REAL niece, I would not be doing this to you.” Because he knew that the man that was raising me was not my blood father; he felt that it was ok to do these things. At the age of 12, I began to feel sick in the morning, and I could not hold down food. I went from an active teenager that loved playing sports to a teenager that only wanted to sleep. My mother decided to take me to the doctor. At the Doctor’ office, I overheard my Mother say, who would do this to my baby? How could my 12-year-old daughter be pregnant? But she didn’t ask me. However, a few days later she took me to another doctor’s appointment at a different office. There was a weird smell, and people just looked at me. We went to the back, and about 30 minutes later the procedure was over. I cramped and bled so badly that all I could do was lay down. We arrived home, and a male detective was sitting in our living room. He introduced himself to me and talked to me about sports, and foods that I like. The Detective asked me who I had been having sex with. I looked him straight in his eyes and said: “a dark figure and his name is E.W.” My mom screamed, my grandmother cried, and my father was ready to kill. He was sentenced 25 years to life (due to prior criminal history and disclosure from another child down the street). I was not prepared for the effects that this would have on the rest of my life. Before and after he had gone to prison, no one talked about what happened. No one told me that I did nothing wrong. No one even gave me a hug or said that everything was going to be alright. I began to not care about myself. I felt dirty, nasty and all I wanted to do was have sex with and anybody that wanted it. Sometimes it was 2 or 3 boys in one day. I did not care. There were no emotions attached. I felt lost and empty. At the age of 19 years old, I got married, not because of love, but because this was a way to get out of my Dad’s house and on my own. I had my first child at 20 years old and divorced at the age of 22. I was right back in my Dad’s house, but it was ok because he mainly lived with his girlfriend.

While trying to get my life back on track, I was working as a Receptionist at Allstate Business College. One day this young man came to my desk and gave me a Dr. Pepper; this was my favorite drink, and I had one daily. He smiled, said that I was beautiful and he wanted to do something nice for me. I thanked him, and he walked off without telling me his name. I really wasn’t sure if he was a student here, but I did know that he made me smile. Smiling was something I did not do much of those days. I had the same daily routine; got off the city bus in front of the building, went to the vending machine, got my daily Dr. Pepper, walked to my desk and was ready to work. A few days had passed since that nice young man came to see me. One day I looked up and there he was; standing in front of me. My heart was beating so fast, that I felt it through my clothes. He said, “hello there beautiful, I have something for you.” I told him that I already have a Dr. Pepper and he said that he had something better for me. He said that he noticed that I rode the city bus and he wanted to give me a bus pass. I was immediately taken; no one had ever done anything for me and not want something in return. He asked if he could walk me to the bus stop after work and I told him sure. I finally asked him his name, and he said L.D.; then I asked if he was a student here. He said that he was, but he was going to quit because he could not concentrate on his school work knowing that I was sitting downstairs. He said that he wanted to spend all of his time with me, and boy did we spend a lot of time together. A few weeks had passed, and we became intimate with each other. Oh, My God, it was the best I ever had. His endurance lasted forever. He demanded sex every day; we would have sex in the bathroom, under the stairs, behind the building, and in empty classrooms. This man made me feel as if I was the only woman in the world. He ensured that I was always sexually satisfied. Never did I realize he was beginning to control me. Months had passed, and he was still walking me to the bus stop, bringing me flowers, candy and gave me whatever I wanted. I never asked him if he worked or how he got his money, I just knew he wanted me, and there was nothing else important. He met my son and they immediately connected. He began to bring him toys and always wanted all of us together as a family. I met his family, he met my family and we finally moved in together. Shortly after that we were married. I loved and admired everything about this man. He knew how to treat me, he loved my son, and he was willing to take me away from my dull, lonely life.