They told you to go back.To be patient.To “love him through it.”To pour water on a man who doesn’t grow, doesn’t change, doesn’t offer safety, doesn’t
They told you to go back.
To be patient.
To “love him through it.”
To pour water on a man who doesn’t grow, doesn’t change, doesn’t offer safety, doesn’t even acknowledge your pain.
But here’s the truth they don’t want you to say out loud:
Water does nothing for fake flowers.
They may look the part.
Smile for the camera.
Wear the right words like Sunday clothes.
But inside, there is no root. No softness. No truth. No intention to grow.
And yet women are told—commanded—to pour anyway.
To pour:
Even when the man in their life makes them afraid to speak in their own home.
Even when they’re afraid to breathe too loudly.
Even when he’s threatened their children.
Even when she’s been told, “Go back. He’s trying.”
“Be a good woman.”
“God will reward you.”
The church tells her.
The movement tells her.
The community whispers it behind smiles and praise for her loyalty and silence.
They tell her to give him her space,
her peace,
her body if necessary,
and cover him with her prayers while ignoring her own cries for help.
But what about you, cherished one?
Who pours into you like that?
Who shields you with their body?
Who organizes long, sustained campaigns for your protection?
Who listens to your fears before the stalking starts?
Who believes you before the online smear campaign hits your inbox?
Who trusts your instincts before the assault, before the headlines, before the obituary?
And when you say:
“I feel unsafe. Something is not right. I do not feel peace here.”
—do they listen?
Or do they mock you?
Dismiss you?
Call you bitter?
Say you’re “man-hating”?
Say you’re “not trying hard enough”?
Women have been taught to water fake flowers—
To give life where life never was.
To show loyalty where there is only control.
To believe, always, in a man’s potential, even while dying under the weight of his reality.
And when those women collapse, when the fear becomes too much,
the same ones who told her to pour will say:
“Well, she stayed.”
“She should’ve known.”
“Why didn’t she leave?”
But we remember.
We remember who demanded that she love the man more than herself.
That she protect the predator more than her own child.
That she silence her spirit in favor of a fantasy they sold as redemption.
We remember that they told her to water fake flowers.
And when the vase shattered—they blamed her for the mess.
No more.
If it doesn’t grow with you,
if it doesn’t protect you,
if it doesn’t nourish you—
you don’t have to water it.
You don’t owe your soul to anything that cannot hold your safety.
Share if you feel safe and ready—your voice might be the lifeline someone else needs.
And if you do share, remember to cite the messenger.
Words carry legacy.
[wesurviveabuse.com] | [survivoraffirmations.com] | [rosaschildren.com]
