There are people who enter our lives for a season and leave behind unforgettable lessons—sometimes painful, sometimes powerful. For me, one of those people was Percy. I met him when I walked into his clothing store in one of Milwaukee’s most dangerous neighborhoods. What I didn’t know then was that stepping into that store would shape nearly ten years of my life. Percy wasn’t just a store owner—he was a notorious drug dealer, a man twice my age, ruthless, and intimidating. Yet, beneath his bravado and gun always at his side, he hid a deep insecurity. He used young women like me to feed his ego, to make himself feel larger than life.
At twenty-three, I was still insecure, still searching for belonging, and still blind to the dangers of the path I was stepping into. What began as curiosity and flattery eventually turned into a cycle of control, manipulation, and abuse. I thought I could handle it. I thought I was “different.” Instead, I found myself trapped—emotionally, physically, and mentally. Percy stripped me of my sense of worth, but he also became one of the most pivotal forces that pushed me toward finding it again.
Looking back, Percy represents more than just a chapter in my book—he represents a turning point. He was a reminder that not everyone who calls you “goddess” has good intentions. He taught me the importance of discernment, of recognizing red flags before they become chains, and of protecting my own light in environments that seek to dim it.
Today, I share this not to glorify the pain, but to show the power of transformation. I walked into Percy’s store an insecure young woman. I walked out of that chapter a resilient, empowered woman who understands that survival can become strength—and that strength can become a story worth telling.
