"How did I claw my way out of poverty? That question always baffles me.
When I was nine years old.
In the middle of the night, I witnessed my dad attempting to break my mom's legs. She ran out of the house and was hiding in a woodsy area down our dead-end street waiting for my dad to calm down.
She finally tried to sneak back but he was hiding in our front yard with a thick wooden stick and began to beat her violently in her legs.
She screamed like an animal.
He kept whacking and beating.
My sisters and I ran outside in a panic.
No one came out to help.
I screamed a primal, earth-shattering scream.
I ran in the house screaming.
I ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, fell to my knees in front of the toilet and screamed, 'God! If you love me, you would take me away from this place. I don't want to be here anymore.'
God did take me. He took me on his terms.
Every painful memory, every mentor, every friend and foe served as a chisel, a leap pad that has shaped 'Me'.
Viola Davis Finding Me
