The Diatribe’s Jocelyn Barnes

Jocelyn performing on stage saying"When I was growing up".

Jocelyn is standing in front of her mother. Her mother is handing her pens and notebooks.

When I was growing up, my teachers said I should journal. My mom bought me notebooks and pretty colored pens, then encouraged me to craft whole worlds outside of my own.

Storm clouds with the words "my little secrets" hover above Jocelyn. She is writing in her notebooks.

I filled up diary after diary with my own little secrets.

Jocelyn's mother is upset as she reads a notebook. Outside are tons of notebooks and paper thrown in the trash.

Once when I was away at school, my mom read my entries. She didn’t like what she found.

Trash is being dumped out. Jocelyn falls with the trash. Parts of herself are on crumpled pieces of paper.

I came home to find she had thrown these pieces of myself away. I asked for an explanation and all she did was shame me.

Jocelyn is laying on a board which makes her resemble "Operation: The Game". Her mother tries to take the pen from her hand as if playing the game.

And so I forgot how to put my words on paper. In the years that I needed it most, my pen became a foreign object.

Dark fades to light with Jocelyn crying in a corner. A shadowy figure hovers over her. Words on the image read "My house became a dark cave. My mother became a stranger. But her boyfriend and his desires became all too familiar."

My house became a dark cave. My mother became a stranger. But her boyfriend and his desires became all too familiar. And I forgot how to speak my own truth.

In a courtroom Jocelyn is giving a testimony into a microphone.

Twelve figures surround Jocelyn with questioning looks.

When I finally did, I was sixteen. At his judgement day, the jury couldn’t make up their minds. His 12 legally appointed peers couldn’t decide if what I had to say was worth believing.

The weights of justice hold Jocelyn and a shadowy figure, implied to be "The boyfriend". He is lifted up high in a snarky but positive pose. Jocelyn is down low, looking somber. A faded Jocelyn looks over the situation upset of the turn out.

They call that a hung trial, but I felt like I was the only one in the courtroom left hanging. I decided to make it the last time anyone doubted me when I spoke. I got re-accustomed to the sound of my own voice through spoken word.

Jocelyn writes "My truth". She is happy and has bubbles and butterflies surrounding her. In the corner a piece of paper has "What does it do for you?" written on it.

Poetry has become a sacred form of healing in my life. It has made me realize the importance of sharing my story, and helped me give pieces of myself to those that might not even know they needed it. For me, there’s nothing more impactful than that. I believe that finding the ability to share your inner-most self can change the world and that there are an infinite number of ways to achieve it. Poetry does that for me. What does it for you?

Comic Made By

Alexis Mauricio