Rape, or naw?

Keturah Ann Forrest Brownley 1837-1920

Rape or non-consensual sex?

Do we have to talk about it?
Yes, we do.

This blog post is in honor of Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

Keturah Ann “Kate” Forrest Brownley (February 9, 1837 CE - February 6, 1930 CE), wife of Jefferson Lafayette Brownley, and daughter of John “Jacky” Forrest and Elizabeth Miller Knight Forrest is one of my maternal ancestors.

Keturah is of a time where marital rape was legally acceptable and physical punishment for wives not fulfilling their duties was not only customary, but somewhat expected in particular realms of society. 

My parents, The Honorable, Earle Clinton Mobley and Dr. Cynthia “Cindy” Hall Mobley-Glowacki were married in 1980.

In 1989, the year before I was born, the United States Congress chose October to be Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Therefore, every October, DVAM is observed to support survivors, honor victims and raise awareness about relationship abuse.

This decision in Congress was made BEFORE there was a law in the United States of America against marital rape.

It was not until 1993 that marital rape became illegal in all fifty united states.

While sitting at a restaurant on Friday evening, October 9th, 2026, waiting for my to-go order, I saw this image flash on the television screen, and it sent my skin crawling.

It inspired me to ask the individuals around me if “non-consensual sex” was just a palatable, marketing term for rape.

Everyone seemed to strongly agree that “non-consensual sex” was a fancy term for rape.

In Light of the Cornell 7 case, I feel compelled to share the following stories from my life.

My child proudly wears her B.A.C.A. vest that says "I will not live in Fear.”

& Today, I also choose to Live without fear,

and hit publish.

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In July 2003, I was 12.
I still had not even bled.
I could not even whisper the word sex.
I did not even know what a menstrual cycle was.

On July 16, 2003, Nelson Mandela said “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world”
and I could not agree more!

In the summer in 2026,

On a square, post-it note…

I jotted down my most traumatic experiences,

for the first time.

By the fall of 2026,

My spirit was shaken.

Awoken, Re-ignited.

Decades of emotional suppression -

A long time simmering -

An iceberg melting -

A volcano erupting -

For far too long…

My Spirit repressed.

Many of my stories have been frozen, in time, inside ——-

In the summer of 2026,

I wrote several statements about some of the most horrific experiences of my life.

I seem to have a freeze response still, after all these years, when the memories resurface, uninvited.

I wrote these terrifying experiences down during the height of the summer heat. I shoved that post it note in my small, flower journal that I typically carry everywhere. 

I finally wrote them down so I could journal, in-depth, about my experiences, later, when I found the time...

I wrote them on a post-it because I refused to let the memories take up space, rent-free, in my big, beautiful brain, one second, one minute, one day longer.

These traumatic experiences have been with me for decades; shaping every next step of my journey because my nervous system has never felt safe enough to heal.

I kept them with me, everyday, until I had the time to write my story out fully.

Well… being a single parent, while trying to manage a business and keep up house and trying to pay rent and bills, while everything else is happening in the world right now…

It is difficult to balance it all with grace, to say the least.

It is easy to say that I have not had copious amounts of time for shadow-healing.

I am striving to presently, lovingly and gently to raise a tiny human, but I will readily share that I carry unhealed wounds.

It is safe to say… my body has been holding too much.

Come the end of September, my period was late.

Bear with me if you’d like me to briefly explain how my menstrual cycle is related to these stories frozen inside me…

I am a cyclical being and my period is predictable. There are only disruptions in my moon cycle when my body is under extreme duress. 

My bleed came violently and suddenly Tuesday morning, September 29th, 2026 - The morning after a beautiful and cathartic Red Tent gathering with friends.

I had been holding onto that post-it note for months,

while striving to maintain all my responsibilities.

September 29th is also the anniversary of my sister’s death. It has been 22 years since my sister, Rebekah walked this planet. She was only two years old when she died from Leukemia.

On the 29th, in the afternoon, I was hauled away by paramedics from my therapy session, on a stretcher, because I turned yellow and green and had a fever from throwing up. I was carted away in an ambulance to the nearest emergency room, with my daughter in safe care outside of my purview.

On Wednesday morning, the 30th, I remained in the Emergency room, waiting on answers and a plan.

A woman, one of my nurses, shared with me, that her father sexually abused and raped her. She told me that her mother fought for her. She told me her father only spent three months in jail. This news shattered me. This is unacceptable of the systems, I believed, were built to protect us.

It is time for the systems that allow rapists to walk freely, boldly and unburdened to drastically change. 

Apparently, I was severely depleted of minerals…

I had an infection on the 29th, that I no longer had on Wednesday, the 30th, according to a second urine test.

I was severely in need of grounding energy, herbal tea, a good cry, a couple hot meals, releasing some pent-up rage, several big hugs and a compassionate listening ear.

I was passing massive blood clots, but no one in the hospital thought my period had anything to do with my dis-ease…

I’ll be going into detail about this hospital experience later…

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If you would like a greater understanding of Consent, please check out this video on Youtube that was created in 2015 by the Thames Valley Police.

If you need immediate support, please reach out to RAINN’s [Free and Confidential] National Sexual Assault hotline at 800.656.HOPE or
Text HOPE to 64673.

I share my stories because I will no longer be chained by Shame.

I have hugged each man I mentioned below - after they violated me -
On some occasions willingly
& sometimes un-willingly.

I will no longer act to preserve a man’s reputation at the sake of my own sanity.

I will no longer to keep my Truths inside. Self-love is speaking your Truth.

I will honor my Spirit by releasing the fear I have around myStory.

I choose to share the names of the men who violated me, not with the intention to place criminal charges on them, but rather to introduce - to FORCE - an uncomfortable conversation about Consent and Accountability.

Remember, Woman,
you were born life giver, miracle creator, magic maker.

You were born with the heart of a thousand mothers,
open and fearless and sweet.
You were born with the fire of Queens & conquerors,
warrioress blood you bleed.
You were born with the wisdom of sages & shamans,
no wound can you not heal.
You were born the teller of your own tale,
before none should you kneel.
You were born with an immeasurable soul
reaching out past infinity.
You were born to desire with passion, abandon,
and to name your own destiny.

Remember, Woman, remember
you are more than you can see.
Remember, Woman, remember
you are loved endlessly.

Remember, Woman, your power and grace,
the depth of your deep sea heart.
Never forget you are Woman, divine,
as you have been from the start.

Poem by: Reese Marie

---

May the sharing of my experiences bring catharsis to those in need of healing balm for their Spirit. 

Sexual Abuse or Not Sexual Abuse

It was probably sexual abuse, when I was 13 and he would tickle me, pull me close and whisper, “shh, you’ll like it” while he was found his way into my pants and touched my dry clitoris over and over in wonky circles. I was frozen. I could never move. I never said no. I never said stop. My Dad always left him in charge on date nights with my abuser’s Mom. He was the “responsible” eldest child; a male. I always felt too uncomfortable and afraid to say anything. He was my “caretaker.” He was “in-charge.” He became my step-brother.

His name is Kenny Strickland.

Rape or Not Rape

It was probably rape, when I was 15 and he drove us to my mother’s house in the middle of the night. I had been drinking with my friends at a high school party. He took my keys from me on my mother’s front porch. He was my guardian. I didn’t want to go inside with him, alone. It was dark. No one was home. My friends were supposed to be there. I’ll never forget the way his prickly, shaved chest felt on my bare skin. I will not forget the undulating, the penetration, the violation. And I will not forget the feeling of the couch that I had to sit on for years and years later. 

His name remains, Kenny Strickland.

Rape or Not Rape

It was probably rape, when I was 15, in his astrovan, parked in the dark, behind the closed pool (or sometimes parked in alleyways before youth group). I said okay; I wanted to have sex, right? I loved him, right? I wanted to be with him, right? My friend said this is what people who love each other do. I was frozen, again. The carpet hurt. The penetration. It made my back bleed. I had scabs for weeks on my sacrum.

His name is Eric Wilfong.

Rape or Not Rape

It was probably rape when I was 16 and he was 21. He’d smoke me out and tell me I’d like sex more if I was high. He was right. He was the first person who asked and I granted permission to photograph my vagina. He also liked the way I tasted right before I bled; he said he could always tell when I was about to bleed because my vaginal fluid would change taste due to the higher iron content in my blood. He thought this was fascinating. And frankly, so did I. My mom wanted me to marry him. My mom thought he’d become a great doctor one day.

His name is Andrew Thompson.

Rape or Not Rape

It was probably rape, when I was 17, after chugging Everclear at a party with friends, passing out temporarily on the Old Dominion University lawn, wishing my “boyfriend” would answer my phone calls, barely making it back to a male friend’s dorm apartment, and waking up to said male friend’s penis, inside my vagina, penetrating. I pushed him off and he was confused. 

His name is Tyler Young.

Rape or Not Rape

It was probably rape when I was 19, when I told my drunk ass college boyfriend I didn’t want to have sex in wee hours of the morning after being out drinking all night. He pleaded with me, while all of his roommates simultaneously begged me to fuck him till I eventually gave in so we could all go to sleep. After all, the sun was about to come up. He was extremely angry with me because I was standoffish when he woke up.

His name is Maxwell Sauer.

Rape or Not Rape

It was definitely rape, when I was 29, when he came home from the bar at 2:30 am and I was completely sober trying to sleep. When he refused to go to bed without fucking me, I gave in and let the tears roll in the dark, he didn’t notice and two minutes later, he sloshily finished inside.

His name is Timothy Robert Tabor.

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In hindsight, it was not probably sexual abuse and rape. It was,
I have been sexually abused and raped over and over throughout my life.

I was being disingenuous with my Spirit when I denied myself the chance to feel all the grief from the painful experiences I had.

These experiences irrevocably changed me. 
These experiences skewed my mindset. 
These experiences are just some of the violations against my body and my will.

Yet, it was my Silence, over decades, that burdened and broke my Spirit. 

Acting with integrity, at this time, means speaking out about the darkness I have experienced in the 36 years I have spent circling the sun.

Never again, will I be dishonest with myself.
Never again, will I distrust my intuition.
Never again, will I suffer in silence.
Never again, will I allow the darkness inside to overwhelm me.
Never again, will I choose to people-please over inner-peace. 

I am joyfully, delighted to be a part of a world where people feel safe to exist authentically.

‍ ‍Are you with me?

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Do you carry a protective lens from being abused?

Are you perhaps acting abusively and need to change?

Do the Systems in your life support your highest good?

Please, do not be Silent in your Suffering. 

We are Stronger, together.

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May this read be an invitation to unpack the skeletons your closet.

Do not let the unhealed parts of you seep unconsciously into your life and the lives of those around you. 

In order to heal it, you must be willing to feel it.

____________________________________

With elections on the horizon,
I sincerely hope my writing spurs action towards
love and compassion for all.

____________________________________

Thank you for spending your precious time and energy reading my words.

I invite you to listen intuitively to your body, hydrate and support yourself as needed.
Self-love is the best form of self-care.

Please contact me to be added to my Newsletter or to schedule a time to connect.

  Transforming Trauma’s first newsletter is being released on Samhain,
‍ ‍when the veil between our worlds is the thinnest.

In Love and Darkness,

Hannah Hall

Selfie taken on October 3, 2019 in Fredericksburg, Virginia at the National Organization for Victim Assistance - Advanced Crisis Response Team Training.

"If you want to go fast, go alone.

If you want to go far, go together."

African Proverb

I have felt lonely and in despair too many days and nights to allow myself to fall into that dark trap again.

There are too many of us suffering in silence.

May our Spirits be lifted knowing that there is power in speaking our Truths Together.

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At last, I leave you with a quote that has permanently altered my lens.

“You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

My desire for this blog is to create a path where we may learn and grow together.

Let’s stay connected <3

Waves

A dedication to big emotions.

Oceans.

Darkness.

Waves.

Emotions.

Energy in Motion.

The waves won’t kill me.

I won’t let them drag me under.

I surrender.

I surrender to survive.

I surrender to a higher power.

I surrender and flow.

I thrive when I flow.

I let go.

I embrace the darkness.

I let go.

I allow the waves to pass.

I rise.

I survived.

I thrive.

Transformed.

Waves in motion.

I won’t let them drag me down.

I ground.

Transform.

Pray.

Surrender.

Flow with emotion.

Wave.

Freedom.

Stay.

Flow with emotions.

Pray.

Surrender.

Freedom.

Wave.

Pray.

Stay.

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Thank you for participating with my blog.

As a reminder, this blog is a trial and experiment & I welcome feedback.

Please contact me to be added to my Quarterly Newsletter or to schedule a time to connect.

The first newsletter is being released on Samhain, when the veil between worlds is the thinnest.

In Love and Darkness,

Hannah Hall

Authentic Thoughts

Have you ever felt that instant connection with someone?

That one, where you feel like you’ve known them for decades, maybe even lifetimes?

Soul to soul, you see them for who they are, no questions asked.

A complete understanding.

That comfortable feeling of familiarity - of Authentic Connection.

These connections, even brief, last forever.

These are the moments we live for.

And - If our Light has been dimmed. Then, the story changes.

Thank you for participating with my blog.

As a reminder, this blog is a trial and experiment & I welcome feedback.

Please contact me to be added to my Quarterly Newsletter or to schedule a time to connect.

Kindly,

Hannah Hall

Grief - A feeling easily ignored

Grief.

A feeling often misunderstood.

A feeling that sneaks up in innumerable ways.

Masking as Disappointment or Anger.

Grief is there.

Waiting to be acknowledged.

If you don’t make friends with Grief -

It may haunt you.

Stealing Joy from everyday moments.

Tainting each interaction without realization.

Upon connection with Grief -

A barrier dissolves.

A light returns to the present.

A joy experienced anew -

For the first time, since Grief took hold.

Allow Grief to flow

and let love in.

Grief. 

A feeling easily ignored.

yet, transformed when encountered together.

Welcome to Transforming Trauma’s corner of the inter webs.

PSA: This blog is an experiment and a trial. I welcome feedback. I do not have a specific format planned. I intend to share about plant medicine, emotional wisdom and how to use these tools to release outdated emotional patterns.

Future Endeavors

I am excited to announce that I am hosting several in-person events this summer.

I will be posting blog updates regarding upcoming events including a Medicinal Garden Walk series and seasonal Kid’s Sensory Garden Experiences.

Stay tuned and a calendar will be added to the home page soon!

Following Joy - a Direction for Life

When we are young, we are frequently asked, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Where are you directing your energy?

Rather than, “What brings you joy?”

I love this concept of Joy because all too often we are taught to follow a particular predetermined path, which is supposed to lead to happiness but is Joyless.

After I gave birth to my daughter, I began following Joy. Little by little, I began giving up on what I thought I should be doing and began doing what brought me Joy.

I let go of the idea that I needed to live according to everyone else’s desires and expectations.

I chose to live according to my own needs and desires. I chose to be home with my daughter. I chose Joy.

Following Joy is a deeply rewarding choice but it is not necessarily an easy path.

Yet, when you are living according to your life’s purpose, there is a comfort, an inner peace.

As I watch my daughter grow, I am encouraging her to find Joy, as well.

Rather than asking, “What will you do when you grow up?” I find myself asking, “What brought you Joy today?”

If we change the narrative, we give our children permission to listen to their inner whispers.

By living this way, we raise children who are in tune with their own needs and desires.

Let’s take a moment to reimagine a world where Greed and Shame are no longer a part of it.

Let’s imagine people who live and work harmoniously.

Let’s imagine a world where we’re free to express Joy.

Let’s imagine a world with a foundation of Love.