Some years ago I began to write some ‘once upon a time’ stories. They were usually written for specific people, or to make a particular point. With permission I am sharing one I wrote for a young woman who used her own pain to fight for her sisters, but it is dedicated to all those women who find and use their voice.

The Tower:

Once upon a time in a faraway land a baby girl was born. She was small and perfect as all children are but when she was very young those who were supposed to care for her and nurture took her to a Tower that stood at edge of the City. Here she was imprisoned, alone, and the Keepers of the Tower used her at will. Her body and her life were theirs. For many years she lived in silence with pain and fear as her daily companions and her only comfort the bright and loving world she created within her own mind, and held dear through all that happened to her.

She was told that the Tower was a ‘normal part of growing up’, she was told that, as a girl, there were things she needed to learn that could only be learnt in the Tower, she was sometimes told it was punishment, and sometimes told it was love, and it seemed to the Girl that she must be a very bad child to suffer so. Over time, she came to believe that she deserved all that happened to her and her shame was deep.

When the Girl was grown she was allowed to leave the Tower but so great was her shame and fear that for some years she lived in the shadows at the bottom of the Tower and rarely ventured into the City. Over time however she became braver and began to venture forth in very small steps. The Tower cast its shadow over every part of the City – over the homes of families, over the workplaces and schools and even over the Palace where the Rulers of the City lived. Rarely was the Tower mentioned, although no-one could avoid seeing it, and those who spoke of it spoke in whispers. There were many who believed that the Tower was not really a bad place and who refused to listen to any truth about what happened within its walls. There were some who, despite the evidence of their eyes, refused to believe that the Tower existed. And there were some who used the fear and pain of the Tower to control those around them.

In corners of the City, in hidden lanes, and cottages and the back rooms of houses, there were places where women worked together to keep the shadows at bay and lit fires and beacons to hold back the darkness and it was to these places that the Girl finally found her way. Here she met women who spoke openly of the Tower and who talked together about destroying it, but it was strong and big and had stood for many years and it seemed that they would never be strong enough to bring it down. The girl was both fascinated and terrified by women who spoke thus, for whenever she thought of her time in the Tower she was filled with dark shame and it seemed that if she spoke all would see her darkness and turn from her in revulsion. When she tried to speak her voice was a whisper and she sometimes despaired of ever moving fully out of the shadows. However, over time, she began to listen and gather together the stories of women – and some men- who had grown up in the Tower. At first it seemed that the pain of others, on top of her own pain, would destroy her. Many times she doubted herself and many times the shame and the fear overwhelmed her. At such times she would try to numb her pain, or carve it into her body, or drown it in alcohol, but despite this she managed to gather together many stories and to be a witness to many women who had survived the Tower. For through all her suffering the Girl had retained a brave and valiant spirit and although she rarely saw her own injustices, she had a keen hatred of injustice when it touched others.

She hoped that if she gathered enough stories she might bring them to the Rulers of the City and ask that the Tower be pulled down, but shame still filled her and, when she tried to speak to others about what she was learning, sometimes they turned from her. Other survivors told her that this was because no-one really wanted to know for knowing would mean taking action and admitting that the Tower was evil. Many feared change and many feared acknowledging years of ignoring the pain that shadowed their City. The Girl felt that others turned from her because they could see her shame and the blackness she still believed dwelt within her, but despite her confusion and her fear, she continued to witness other’s stories and to try to speak out in her quiet voice in the defence of her sisters and brothers.

Deep within her, anger stirred, anger at injustice, anger at the misuses of power and anger at the lies that kept her and so many women – and men – living in the shadows. She became more aware every day of the shadow of the Tower and the many who still lived in fear, and she became more aware that other children were still growing up in the Tower. Some days she saw women hiding in the darkness, weeping, and some days she saw women who died by their own hand when the pain and shame were past bearing. Her anger grew and her pain grew until it seemed to her that they would destroy her.

One morning as she walked through the City the shadows appeared particularly dark, and she felt as if, under the hum of the day’s activities, she could hear the tears of imprisoned children, and of survivors who still struggled each day with the legacy of their torture.

Her anger and her pain welled up and she stood still in the street, in the midst of the day, and not far from the Palace of the Rulers, and a scream rose from her depths. She opened her mouth and at first only a faint cry emerged, but she breathed deeply through her pain and her fear and into her anger, and she screamed. She screamed a scream such as had never been heard in the City, a scream of outrage, of rage and of grief. At first those passing hurried away or gazed at her in shock before lowering their eyes, and some called out to her to shut up and talked of calling the Police, but the Girl had found her scream after years of silence, and she screamed on.

A strange thing happened. The Girl became aware of other screams joining hers – small screams and loud screams. Screams came from women working in the shops, mothers at home with their children, school girls on their way to school, elderly women making their slow way along the street, teachers in the school. All around the City women and men screamed – a scream of outrage and anger and refusal to be silenced. In the Palace where the highest in the Land met to make decisions there was, at first, a flurry and rush to find out what was happening – but after a short time, even there, some began to scream- at the very foot of the Ruler’s throne his aunt and her maids, his sister and her friends, some of his Knights, raised their voices and cried out for they too had suffered in the Tower and been silenced for many years and generations. From the whole of the City, from highest and lowest, a mighty scream rose.

And an amazing thing happened. The walls of the Tower began to shake and tremble and the stones at the gate tumbled down. The doors flew open and children streamed out, bruised and frightened and crying children, and they added their voices to the voices of the City as they were gathered into arms that welcomed them into the light. The Keepers of the Tower retreated deep within for they had too long lived in darkness and they feared the loss of their power. And some from the City fled to join them for they too feared the light and what it would bring. The Tower shook, and the walls began to fall down and the very foundations cracked and shattered. As the Tower fell, a silence fell too and the City watched in wonder as light filled all the darkest recesses and shone on the faces of those who had broken the silence and brought down the Tower. A shout of exultation rose from those who watched and with it a vow that the Tower would never rise again and that the heritage of the children of the City would be love and light, not fear and shame.

And the Girl smiled and lifted her face to the light and the last of her shame shattered around her like the walls of the tower that her refusal to be silent had brought down.