When I was 19 and rape and abuse did not call me back, I was told I had “fallen through the cracks” three days later. My sophomore year in college (that yes, I attempted), I went to the counseling center to discuss the unfortunate incident (read: RAPE) of my freshman year and they told me I was not actually registered because it appeared I had “fallen through the cracks.” When my son was 18 months old and my doctors’s office sent me a letter (that was lost in the mail 30 days), to tell me I had invasive cancer, my former doctor called to tell me, “you fell through the cracks and for that, I am very sorry.”
I don’t know about you, but I’m damn tired of “falling through the cracks.” I’m a white, middle-class chick in North Dakota. I can’t imagine how many times I might have “fallen through the cracks” had I not been white and middle-class.
There are two things that can happen when you “fall through the cracks” enough. You either curl up, give in, and think you don’t matter. Or you stand up, strong and ready to fight for yourself and those like you. Which one are you?
It’s difficult standing up in a world that is willing to let you die, but you have to do it. If you don’t, they win and you keep falling through the cracks. So, I know you’re out there. Sometimes that’s the only thing (besides my son) that keeps me fighting. I’m not willing to “fall through the cracks” anymore. Are you?